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… … …

Hermione was overcome with another weird sensation of delusion and disbelief. She was walking down a long corridor of what the house-elf told her was the west wing. The beauty of the house disgusted her but at the same time she couldn't help but admire… well, the beauty of it.

She was outraged though, when to her left came windows from which she could see a charmingly landscaped lot… upon closer inspection she discovered that the lot ended with another side of the house.

"What's that?" asked Hermione to the elf, who she didn't dislike simply because it resided with Malfoys, it was forced to after all.

"That's the east wing," she squeaked.

Hermione then realized that the lot was squared off by two more sections of the house. They had a courtyard right in the middle of their mansion. Hermione scoffed as she continued walking past it, like the likes of Draco could ever truly appreciate the unique and stunning renaissance architecture of such…

"This way miss…,"said the house-elf as she led her around the corner, leaving Hermione no longer able to see the courtyard from the windows.

The house was enormous and it felt as though they had been walking forever and they weren't even there yet. Hermione continued to think bitterly about the courtyard, something she had always imagined in her dream house. Malfoy Manor now suddenly reminded her of that government building in the states, what was that called again? It was all connected and shaped like a...Pentagon. Hermione laughed at her brief moment of stupidity.

The American muggle leader, the president, she recalled, had taken them there as a display of hospitality, but only before he begrudgingly told Dumbledore that his…FBI was it? Or maybe… CIA? Whatever the secret organization it was they had over there, they had no reason to believe that Voldemort was in America. 'Except Malfoy Manor only has four connecting wings, instead of five,' thought Hermione absent mindedly.

Finally the little elf paused in front of one of the numerous doors that were along the hall.

"Here is your room," she said, "please make yourself at home."

"Yeah right," Hermione muttered as the elf opened the door for her.

Although the room's luxury was amazing, the first thing Hermione looked for was a clock.

It's six o'clock," she thought, 'One hour till supper…mmm, food…and two hours till the charm should wear off…"

Suddenly her surroundings dawned on her and her mouth dropped. She felt like she was in a palace…a room for a princess. She was overwhelmed by its comfort, having stayed in a tiny cement cell for nine months.

The bed was huge and billowing with a handsome canopy set against the left wall. On the right wall here was a beautiful gold vanity table, and in the middle of the room was a lovely floral rug, with breathtaking paintings along the walls and a glass doorway leading out to a balcony on the wall farthest from the door. Even the little things like light fixtures and knobs on the armoire were extravagant. Hermione couldn't help but notice the careful and unique craftsmanship around the doorways, which were carved with Celtic wizard designs. Wondering where they led to Hermione opened the one at the end of the left wall, just past the bed.

She discovered a bathroom adorned in white marble and gold. Hermione didn't even realize she was grinning when she saw the huge bathtub that was aligned with mirrors.

Suddenly she snapped out of it. She'd never enjoy such a tub, or anything in this room. She was still determined to escape that very night, and her thoughts or plans never went any further than that, because she was so positive it would work out. She would get out of that house, get her family and run, it was only fair after what she had been through. No way could she handle marrying Draco Malfoy. How could fate hand her such a destiny she didn't deserve? No, she wouldn't have to live here. A bit tragic yes, because it was beautiful, but it was Malfoy Manor and everything was tainted.

Still, she could hardly believe they lived in such luxury. It just wasn't fair that such horrible people should have such a nice mansion. She sighed and threw herself back onto the bed.

"Miss, miss," said the house elf suddenly, "forgive me miss but it is time for you to get ready for the supper miss."

Hermione looked over at her peculiarly as the house elf opened another door exposing a gigantic walk in closet.

"Master has specifically requested this miss," said the elf, barely able to hold the ensemble Lucius had in mind.

… … …

Draco was splashing cold water on his face. Then he looked at his reflection from his bathroom mirror and sighed. He was very nervous for dinner, dreading it even and was still very frazzled from seeing Hermione.

He would have never guessed that she would look so… presentable, he decided was the right word, after nine entire months in Voldemort's prison. Suddenly he shuddered; he hated the thought of such a place. How had she not gone insane?

Then he agreed with himself that there was no use in pretending the girl didn't have her wits about her. Everyone knew she's the cleverest girl in Hogwarts. Well… was the cleverest girl in Hogwarts, she didn't return for 6th year after all.

Harry and Ron not returning didn't surprise Draco at all after what happened in the department of mysteries. Those two fools were so eager to go meddle where they didn't belong, surely they thought their holy crusade against the dark side was more important than school.

But Hermione not returning either had taken him a bit back. He always thought she was so obsessed with education. And what is more than that, joining Harry and Ron in their self-righteous cause was… well, you'd have to be quite brave. Although he always thought of her as a loudmouth know-it-all, he still perceived her as somewhat meek, far too timid to go hunting after Death Eaters anyway. Either she was not nearly as smart as he thought she was, or she had much more courage then he dared give her credit for, because no one would have guessed in a million years that she of all people would drop out of school.

Oh well, it's not like a lot of them didn't; it was such a trying year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco himself only lasted till Christmas. Although they never actually proved his father was there that famous night in the department of mysteries, everyone knew that he was.

Lucius couldn't stand the thought of a Ravenclaw thinking they were superior to his son after Draco had told him that now more than ever people looked at him like he was a petty criminal. So Lucius decided to pull Draco out, as did many other fathers of Slytherins, and got him a private tutor.

Lucius thought it a pity too, since Dumbledore wasn't the full time headmaster, he was eager to see how the school would evolve. But much to Lucius's dismay, it filled with the protection of muggle-loving Aurors and Fudge was constantly poking his fat head in. Not to mention McGonagall being named replacement headmistress for the year, who he suspected of having constant communication with Dumbledore anyway. So he was, as it were, still practically running the school anyway.

Draco recalled how disappointed he was when he had to leave Hogwarts. Although everyone hated him more than ever, he still found it cozier than his actual home.

And now, the very privacy of his own south wing was jeopardized by that silly mudblood in the next room!

Aggravated all over again, he hastily slicked his hair back and grimaced at himself in the mirror. He hated wearing his hair that way, but Lucius insisted that it was proper Death Eater etiquette, especially in front of him. He quickly slipped into his finest robes, adjusted the collar and then made his way to the dining hall.

… … …

Dismal silence choked the air in the dining hall except for the steady clicking of the grandfather clock.

Finally, Bubsy opened the door for her and Hermione felt instantly uncomfortable as everyone's eyes turned.

Draco found himself looking, blinking rapidly, and then looking once again just to be sure.

Hermione looked very sophisticated and alluring. Lucius smiled at his triumph, in his own mind he thought his hard work had successfully passed her off as attractive. It would be hard enough for everyone to believe Draco was marrying a muggle in the first place, but an ugly muggle? No one would believe he of all people would marry anyone ugly.

The dress he had picked out for her was black, v-necked and fell scantly around her knees. A sheer black material adorned the collar and hem of the skirt, adding to the femininity.

Lucius was also pleased that she had done her hair without him even asking. She had parted it down the side and clipped the full part back to her ear, a renegade tendril falling gently in her face. With her hair back, her long slender neck was visible as well as her collarbone and the delicate slope of her shoulders. She had on earrings and black stilettos and subtle gloss on her lips.

"Please sit," spoke Lucius.

Draco got up immediately and drew out a chair for her. At first she looked at him like he was crazy and then remembered, 'Oh yes,' she thought, 'my adoring husband-to-be.' She smiled slightly and sat down, amused by his actions and recalling the cloak she had strategically placed by the front door just down the hallway from the dining room. Soon she'd be kicking off those silly heels and hopping the gate, until then she was thinking of what a smooth and sweet gesture Draco had managed to pull off, if only it had been anyone but him, what a flattering and gentlemanly thing to do…

Draco watched her as she slid into the seat, calm and collected. He was surprised she had actually agreed to dress up for dinner, and since she didn't look nearly as miserable as she pretended not to be before, a stranger just walking in would think she belonged at that table. Draco was still in awe that it was even her, staring at her exposed skin and golden brown hair without even realizing it.

Hermione noticed Narcissa still hadn't looked at her, but was staring down at her plate. This caused Hermione to smile. Then she noticed Augustus was also at the table, but unlike Narcissa, he wouldn't stop looking at her. Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

Suddenly there was a chime. Lucius grinned smugly and got up from the table. No one said a word while he was gone and Hermione was almost positive she felt Draco hold his breath. When footsteps reproached and the doorknob began to turn everyone started to rise, Hermione was confused, but followed anyway.

Lucius came in first. "Master has arrived," as he gestured with his arm and bowing his head.

Everyone else bowed their head as well. Although confused, Hermione did the same.

But even with her head down, she still sensed an overwhelming presence enter the room. An eerie, cold presence, different from a Dementor, this feeling had no dream quality to it. No, it was very real and the feeling of badness was rock solid. She peered over to Draco and he finally rose up his head. She slowly did the same, but suddenly not wanting to look.

"Welcome to our dinner your graciousness," Narcissa finally spoke, "We're so honored to have you. We know it is hard for you to venture to far from safe haven. We are humbled that you would make the trip to our meager dwelling"

"Narcissa you are too much," said a chilling voice, "But it is not I who is the guest of honor. Surely I wouldn't miss the dinner for the world."

Feeling pulled, forced even, like her cheek was being sucked by the air by an invisible monster, Hermione finally looked over to the doorway. A tall, thin man stood cloaked in deep thick black was looking at her. He slowly pulled back his hood, revealing his ghostly complexion and twisted head. His skin was scaly and gray, looking as though it would be cold and rough to the touch. His mouth was thin and elongated, and he had an almost completely nostril-less nose. Even his eyes were slit and rested in snake-like sockets. His beady gaze bore into Hermione and he… Hermione couldn't be too sure, seemed to smile at her.

She turned her eyes downcast to her plate and shook with terror, her mouth gasped in noiseless disbelief and her blood ran ice cold.

She was about to politely dine with the man she and her entourage had scoured the globe for for a year and a half. The guest Lucius had so proudly boasted of was Voldemort himself.

Graciously, he offered him a seat at the end of the table. As he moved from the entryway a short fat greasy man entered in behind him. Lucius seemed to feel no need to offer him a seat and he situated himself stilly into the corner.

Hermione leered at new man. Wormtail was there as well. This couldn't be! Her blood boiled with anger and rage. How badly she wished she had a wand! She remained stiff in her seat, tensing up her muscles was the only thing she could do to contain herself and not jump up and attack them.

Lucius took his seat excitedly at the other end of the table, and for the first time, Hermione sensed that Draco was almost as tense as she.

"I offer you the best of my house," Lucius declared and food magically appeared on the table. "It's Fillet of Sole Normandie and freshly steamed Avalon Sauté' mushrooms with a bottle of nicely aged red wine."

Voldemort said nothing in return and Wormtail appeared at his side. He removed his own fork from his pocket and took a bite of the fish. Voldemort watched him chew and swallow. Then Wormtail sampled a mushroom and took a sip of the wine. Satisfied when he didn't fall down dead Voldemort gestured him away. Then he picked up his cloth napkin and began wiping the brim of his goblet.

Lucius watched the whole routine with a stony expression but said nothing. When Voldemort finally took a bit of fish on his fork and nibbled at it and Lucius seemed to finally relax. Everyone else took it as a go-ahead and began to eat as well.

Startled by sudden movements, Hermione also picked up her fork, but by no surprise she had no appetite, being in the same room as He-who-must-not-be-named had made her sick to her stomach. She poked and nibbled at her fish more feebly than Voldemort.

"So my Lord," spoke Lucius again, "if I may ask, what news of progress."

"Well," he said in a drawling tone, "A few more at the ministry have fallen to a price, and are now under the influence of our side…"

Hermione could scarcely believe the situation let alone her ears as the two continued to talk, Goyle even participating a bit. Were they daft to talk so freely of the war right in front of her? Weren't they worried she would give information back to her side? Sure, they didn't name names of who at the ministry had become traitor, but before the light side didn't have enough evidence to even say they suspected such corruption was going on from the inside. But lately, such things had become common, yet unspoken knowledge.

Ever since Voldemort risked a public appearance and tried to seize the prophecy, Fudge could no longer deny his return. An underground war had begun and all of the wizarding world was turned upside down. The old death eating families were surely trying to make contact, to reassure the Dark Lord of their unfaltering loyalty in order to avoid his wrath. But still, some families were still more discrete than others.

Though everyone tried to go about their usual lives, since all out war had not been declared, people didn't know who to trust anymore. Random attacks on muggles began to reoccur for the first time in nearly 20 years. Sadly, even some of those in the Ministry of Magic had chosen the dark side but Fudge was as good as blind as to who they were.

"…Did the Nott's survive the raid on their house alright?" Hermione heard Augustus ask as they continued to talk of politics and illegal activities right in front of her.

"Oh yes, yes," Lucius was saying, "They managed to hide a lot of their things. Nothing was found… well nothing that they couldn't pay the ministry inspectors to ignore anyways…"

People had been disappearing, arrested for questioning, sent to jail, or randomly released. Some were hiding from officials all together, either because they really were guilty or could not otherwise prove their innocence. Other's fell to blackmail or bribery from persons unknown. Other's grouped together and lashed out at the ministry for not having a better knowledge of what was going on.

The Daily Prophet couldn't even be trusted any longer, as it was suspected that some of the publishers and writers were traitors. Articles naming death eaters couldn't be believed because it was easily a framing, and the declaration of innocence could be just as faulty.

"Well that damned Quibbler though…" Hermione tuned in to hear Lucius complain, "some how caught wind of the ministry's plan to investigate the Abbotts but ever since the article was published no one seems to know where they are! Gave them a warning to hide, it did…"

Hermione smirked. It had been her who had recruited the Lovegoods into the Order, it was one of her first missions. While tolerating Voldemort's presence may be a defeat against her, remembering that the Quibbler was a trustable source was a victory for her side was temporarily retributive

But dark or light magic, wizarding families locked themselves up in their houses, having little to no contact with anyone out of fear of attack or being exposed as a death eater. Everyone was confused and afraid.

"…And, I want it to be known," Hermione heard Voldemort go on to say in his dinner conversation with Lucius, "that anyone who can bring me James Finch-Fletchley, dead or alive, shall receive a reward of 5,000 galleons."

"Is that so?" asked Lucius in a mixture of shock and intrigue.

"It is very so," said Voldemort, "The imbecile thought he could penetrate my inner circle by pretending to be truly enlightened by our beliefs, came up with some codswallop story about hating Harry Potter since his son, Justin, has had problems with him. In reality Justin is acquainted with him. He most definitely will pay for this…"

Hermione groaned inwardly, 'Why would the ministry send someone as obvious as James Finch-Fletchley in as a spy?' she thought, disappointed in their ineptness, '…hasn't Fudge learned anything! He should always heed Dumbledore...'

Dumbledore, for one, had pleaded with Fudge unrelentingly, warning him that disbanded wizards were the worse thing that could happen. He begged him to try and reunite the masses before it was too late, and everyone turned against everyone. Meanwhile he demanded Fudge keep him posted on developments from investigations, as he would personally try to find Voldemort.

Hermione sat silently at the table soaking everything up like a sponge. There was no way they had forgotten she was there. With her being so out of place how could they? Did they want her to report this back to the ministry? Was it a trick? There was definitely something she was missing.

Perhaps they were just that confident she would never again speak to the Order. Or the Ministry. Or anyone for that matter. It could only mean they assumed she'd never be able to blurt out that she was a prisoner to a passing stranger and that they must send for her help. They must honestly believe they have the means to contain and silence her for good. Hermione did not want to admit to herself that their surety frightened her.

Finally, the adults plates ran out of food save for Voldemort's. His along with Hermione's and Draco's plates, who apparently had no appetite either, remained full of food but Lucius appeared not to have noticed as he called for an elf. He told it to clear the plates and bring in another bottle of wine.

"This is the finest in our collection," he boasted as it was poured in everyone's glass, although Voldemort appeared not to care. Ignoring it, Lucius continued, "A toast!" he declared, "to the wedding."

Hermione looked awkwardly over at Draco as she raised her glass in dull obedience and took a small sip. Narcissa across the table had already downed hers and was gesturing for more. It appeared the attention of all now rested on Draco and Hermione, and apparently Narcissa wanted alcohol assistance if she was to finally acknowledge Hermione's existence.

"Yes," Voldemort said icily, "The wedding. The muggle, why she looks…"

"Perfect," Lucius interrupted, "The better we can get her to look the better all around…just as we discussed."

Voldemort again nodded softly, looking over at Hermione. Hermione stared intently at the table, grinding her teeth and clenching her wine glass so hard it was amazing it didn't shatter.

"As you can see she's filled out that dress quite nicely, but I think she's still a bit on the thin side," Lucius added.

Hermione felt a wave of nausea as they spoke of her like she was some show dog.

"Yes, I suppose you're right Lucius," he said dryly, "Looks as though she needs a little work on her social skills as well," he added, "The little thing hasn't said a word… Everyone knows pure witches love their chitchat."

Lucius's face grew hot and he looked extremely flustered. "Surely you're right my Lord. Next time I'll see to it that she is more polite."

"Well there's still plenty of time till the engagement is officially announced, no need to get yourself in knots," said Voldemort almost mockingly.

To this Lucius didn't know what to say but it didn't matter, "Now Lucius, a word in private," Voldemort directed. With that Lucius and he got up and went out a separate door from which they all had originally entered, Wormtail following close behind.

It stroke Hermione as odd that they spoke so freely before, yet now felt the need to not be heard.

"Well that went well," said Augustus, after Lucius led Voldemort out of the room, Wormtail waggling behind them.

"To say the least," Narcissa responded, drinking another glass of wine.

"Mother, may I please be excused?" asked Draco softly.

"No Draco," said Narcissa, "Not till your Father returns."

Draco looked bitter and slunk back into his chair as Augustus continued to talk to Narcissa.

Hermione's eyes darted to the grandfather clock. 8:27. Her heart gave a funny jolt. She peered over at Draco who was staring sullenly into his wine glass. Augustus seemed interested enough in his one way conversation and Narcissa was too tipsy to be much of a blockade.

Startled, Draco nearly fell back out of his seat as Hermione's chair fell to the ground, knocked over due to her abrupt jump out of it. He managed to look up as the flare of her skirt disappeared out the dining room door.

"Lucius!" screamed Narcissa as Draco took off after her.

She was fast, and honestly, Draco wasn't too keen on chasing her. But he knew what would happen if he didn't.

Running past to scattered stilettos in his foyer, he burst out of his front door into the cool night air. Dashing down the steps, he saw her image disappear into the shadows the trees along the driveway cast with a cloak in her hand flailing behind her. He followed her into the darkness and saw her emerge back into the moonlight at the gate. He gasped at the ease in which she managed to throw the cloak over the jagged top of the gate to lessen the chance of being injured and hoist herself up. Within seconds she was swinging her legs with swift proficient agility over the other side of the tall iron entrance; he was fourteen before he had mastered sneaking out his house.

Just as she dropped to her feet on the other side, Lucius apparated near her, now present to watch her fall to her knees and sputter. She was immobile once again. She collapsed to the ground choking because she couldn't breathe, trembling from what appeared to be severe pain. She couldn't see, hear, or speak. She couldn't move, just feel hot searing pain course through her body.

Lucius smirked and pulled her back up by her hair. A gurgle replaced what would've been a shriek of pain. He placed one hand on a pedestal near the gate and thought the password to the telepathic security system. The gate began to open and he dragged her back into the grounds. Instantly the pain went away, but the strain and exhaustion remained.

"It's unfortunate for you the Dark Lord had left before your little stunt, you stupid mudblood!" he spat as Hermione gasped for air, able to breathe again. "He would tell me not to do this…!" He balled up his fist.

Hermione closed her eyes tightly and tried to prepare herself for the blow. But nothing came.

"Lucky mudblood," he growled most angrily, as he lowered his hand with what appeared to be a great exercise in self-control, "…can't bloody have you with any black eyes," he finally muttered through a clenched jaw.

Hermione currently hought nothing of this remark however, because she was utterly baffled by her foiled attempt to escape, her heart drowning in the swells of disappointment, "The dress…" she panted desperately, "…is charmed?"

"Yes," said Lucius menacingly, "It is!" He then reached back into his pocket and pulled out a familiar piece of paper, only this time he read something slightly different than the day before and not only flicked his wand at Hermione, but at Draco, who had stood by silently watching the whole spectacle, as well, causing him to flinch.

"Now, listen closely you little freak," Lucius went on, "you're now bound to Draco for…for as long as necessary. Unless you want another taste of what you just sampled, I suggest you stay on the grounds or as close as Draco otherwise declares out loud. And hear you me Granger, no one will pull you back into the boundaries next time. Now, Draco, take this filth out of my sight."