"That was really, really stupid you know, trying to get away like that."

Hermione's awkward thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Draco actually speaking to her, the first noise either of them had made since they had started their long grim walk from the gate to her room. They traveled together; Draco's all too familiar aura of sternness and mystery about him.

"Really? That's odd, getting away sounded like a great idea at the time," Hermione said back without so much as looking at him.

Draco, who would've laughed at the witty repertoire if it had been from anybody but her, was actually quite stunned that she even responded. Although the hatred for him in her voice was quite clear, he had assumed that she would be too afraid of him to speak, which was obviously not the case.

"Whatever," he scoffed angrily after his surprise had subsided, "It's just dumb to go making this worse for you than it needs to be."

"Trust me Malfoy," she quipped as they turned the corner to the south wing, "Nothing could be worse than this."

Hermione found her statement to be completely true, because as they neared 'her' room a horrible sinking feeling consumed her stomach as she realized she be staying the night, and possibly many nights, in Malfoy Manor, for as of right then she had no other plans of escape and feared it would take her awhile to configure her assets and figure out how to get around Draco's now seemingly flawless binding charm. But Draco found her to be exaggerating dramatically simply for the sake of being an extra large pain in the ass.

"Oh right," he sauced back, "I suppose Voldemort's dungeon was much better."

"Better than what? Marrying you?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

"Yes," said Draco as they reached her door.

Hermione scowled as she opened the door and then spoke very firmly, fearlessly looking him in the eyes for the first time "Just for the record Malfoy, I'd pick dying slowly in a cold dark dungeon with my own name and dignity over a long life as a Malfoy any day!" and she slammed the door in his face.

"Fucking ingrate!" he yelled at the door and then furiously stormed away.

… … …

"We can haff more wine upstairs," said the snaggle-toothed teenager Hermione was supposed to be deceiving, raising his unibrow up and down, totally destroying the chivalrous and charming image she had perceived all Russian regional boys to obtain because of Viktor Krum.

This was no gentleman she was dealing with. This was the rich and spoiled son of very powerful, and very dangerous, man.

He grabbed her by the wrist urging, practically expecting, her to follow him.

Hermione giggled in tune with her wanna-be debutante character, thinking quickly, "Oh gee," she smiled shyly and let her hair flip, "Gee, I don't know Ivan, I mean…"

"Vot is it?" he asked impatiently.

She was no longer teasing him. She really didn't want to go upstairs, that wasn't part of the plan, "…I've just had so much wine as it is, and it's getting quite late…"

Where was Harry to occlument to her? Should she go upstairs and leave the searching to him? Or just stupefy Ivan now and look for the documents herself?

"There is no need for any more games Natasha," he jeered, "Ve both know you vant to come upstairs. Now come vith me" he said, like he was a rockstar and she was some nameless groupie, pulling her once again.

Hermione reacted by pulling back without realizing and he looked at her angrily.

"Hehe," she recovered, smiling coyly… But underneath that convincingly flirting smile was panic. Harry had ventured off too far to send her instructions mentally… he had never done that before. He was supposed to be backing her up. What was she supposed to do now?

"I can't wait till we get upstairs," she said finally.

"Excuse me?" asked Ivan, but Hermione had already pushed him back down onto the sofa, then sat over him with one knee in between his, pulling his head firmly back looking at him sultrily. Ivan's ugly face grinned excitedly. Although smooth and controlling on the outside, inwardly Hermione was desperately wondering if Harry had abandoned his post to go after her…

… … …

"BLOODY HELL!" groaned Draco out loud, banging his head against his headboard, "she's been at it for THREE hours now!"

Enough was enough. He tossed off his blankets and swung out of bed, walked to the far wall of his room and angrily banged on the door. The sobbing that was once heard abruptly stopped but Draco turned the knob and barged in anyway.

Hermione sat against the wall across from the door he had just opened. She had a cat in her lap and evidence of tear streams on her red shocked face. A tall, broad white haired person had just unexpectedly entered. It didn't dawn on him in his sleepiness that he was merely in his red and gray plaid pajama pants, leaving his flat stomach and chest exposed, but even after he realized it he just shrugged it off.

Draco saw she was sitting by a gift bag. Apparently Lucius had some 'good behavior rewards' sent to her room before her little escape stunt, most likely during dinner he assumed, and had forgotten to take them back.

Hermione was hastily trying to wipe away any evidence of crying when Draco finally spoke.

"People are trying to sleep" he said less angrily than he had planned to after an awkward moment of looking at her. It was obvious she was embarrassed having been caught crying, and for a moment there he felt the need to go easy on her.

But then he remembered that it was Granger and that he didn't care. It was 2 a.m. and she was the reason he was still awake.

"I didn't know our rooms were connected," was all she could think to say.

"Well they are!" Draco yelled, "and I can hear everything!"

Hermione said nothing to this, but appeared to swallow a sob and began to look more angry than sad.

What right did he have to be so brash when she didn't even know she was keeping him up? She thought no one could hear her cry… 'Oh god,' she thought, when it fully sunk in he could hear her all along, 'how humiliating, looking like a weak baby in front of Malfoy by crying…' But only the word 'crying' reminded her why she was so upset in the first place, and her eyes began to water all over again.

Draco cursed himself and was very uncomfortable as Hermione's lip began to quiver regardless of how hard she fought it. It finally dawned on Draco that the stress she must be under was tearing her apart emotionally.

But then again what did he care? She better not go off again with the sobbing and the wailing because he was fucking tired.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he asked, raising his arm up to tousle his hair in aggravated annoyance, his expression crabby.

"Can't sleep," Hermione said after stifling another hiccup, 'because of my bloody nightmares,' she wanted to add, but didn't.

"You haven't even tried," Draco said irritated, looking at the untouched bed, "You don't even have nightclothes on."

Hermione didn't feel the need to respond. Draco wasn't her mother.

Draco stepped a bit further into her room, immediately Hermione responded by clutching Crookshanks to her and tried to cover her belongings with her body, as if to guard them.

"I'm not going to take back your stuff," Draco snapped, rolling his eyes. What would he want with stupid muggle trinkets? "I just want to see what's keeping you from going to bed."

Hermione uncoiled a bit, exposing a photo of her family, anticipating Draco to say something snide or mean. But he didn't make fun of her, instead he just looked at it blankly.

"Go to bed now ok?" he pretended to ask but really demanded, turning around to return to his room.

"Wait!" Hermione called suddenly.

Draco turned around to look at her with an expression of agitated confusion.

'Merlin Hermione,' she thought to herself, 'He's already seen you cry, might as well let him see you beg.'

"My parents," she pleaded, letting the tears flow freely now, hoping they would subconsciously work persuasion on Draco, "They haven't heard from me in almost ten months… and with your father and Goyle going to my house…"

"No." Draco interrupted, guessing where this was going.

"Please!" she begged, earnestly boring into him with her big wet eyes, "They don't even know if I'm alive!"

Draco stood silently in the doorway that connected their rooms for a moment as her shoulders rose up and down the rhythm of her soft cries.

He groaned angrily, thinking of the happy family in the picture and how horrible his father must have been to them when they broke in and stole Hermione's things. He wondered what her mom and dad must have been thinking, even worse, what they were still thinking. "You better shut up and go to bed if I let you do this" he threatened.

"I will, I swear," Hermione said frantically.

He sighed, "Follow me then," and he hastily exited out of her door.

Hermione had to walk briskly to keep up with his long quick strides as he led the way down the dark quiet hall. Finally he made his way to a door on the left side, clanking the doorknob as he pulled the door open in a fit of creaks.

Hermione's shoulders tensed up, and she looked frightened, "Won't someone hear us?" she asked looking back down the hall.

Draco furrowed his brow and shook his head, "No one can hear anything from down here," referring to the seclusion of the wing.

The door he opened was really a staircase and as Hermione climbed up it behind him she felt it getting cooler. Upon reaching the landing she discovered they were in a miniature owlery, roofed like Hogwart's, but as cold as any attic.

Draco opened some shudders and Hermione could tell by the layout of the house that through the window one had a view of the courtyard. Draco whistled softly. He readied his arm as his brawny great horned owl came flying in, landing on the offered perch.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the large size of it, and then realized why as Draco immediately gave it a treat, then petted it softly, making it coo.

"That's a beautiful owl," Hermione said softly.

"This owl is the most respectable living creature in this house," Draco responded. And then, as if the awkwardness of his comment being said out loud had just dawned on him as it did Hermione, he hastily added, "Now, write only what I tell you!"

Hermione went to a wooden desk and chair, picking up one of the quills there and began to write as Draco dictated, "Mum and Dad, I can not write much, just that I am alive and well. I do not know when I'll be back, but if I die someone will let you know. Hermione."

Draco watched the delicate flick of her wrists as Hermione scribbled the message. She handed it to Draco.

"Dear Mum and Dad, I am not allowed to write much, but I can tell you that I am alive and well. I don't know how much longer I will be away, but I will return to you. I'm sorry if those intruders frightened you, I'll explain everything later. Stay strong and positive. Your loving daughter Hermione."

"That's not what I said!" Draco snapped.

"Well I couldn't very well write about my death to my own mother now could I?" said Hermione.

"Hey, me even informing her should you die would be an undeserved favor, you'd think you'd be a bit more grateful! Now you're just getting her hopes up with this 'returning' nonsense," he rubbed in cruelly, "Besides… how do I know 'Stay positive' isn't code for 'I'm at Malfoy Manor'?"

Hermione laughed at his arrogance, "Oh yes Malfoy," she drawled, "You're just so bloody important that in our spare time me and my mum came up with a secret language incase of the one in a trillion chances I'd be forced to wed you one day."

Draco's cheeks turned a little pink and he sneered at her, releasing the owl into the sky. "Just learn to follow bloody directions!" he yelled as he began storming down the staircase. "It's not like I didn't just risk my own neck for you!"

Hermione dropped her attitude as she reached the hallway behind him, "Thank you by the way," she said faintly.

"Just go to bed now," was all he replied before disappearing into his room and slamming the door.

… … …

……… "Did she cry?" asked Hermione softly, looking out into the midnight city lights of Dallas Texas from her hotel balcony.

"No," said Harry, "I thought she was about to but then she didn't…" he swallowed softly, "I told her we didn't mean to hurt her," he insisted, "That it just happened."

"Harry, she won't even talk to me," said Hermione shaking her head.

"Hermione," Harry said firmly, "Ginny doesn't hate you. I asked her directly, she said no. She said she wants to understand… and that she will eventually, but it will just take her awhile to get used to it."

"Is she going to tell Ron?"

"No, Ginny's the only one who knows."

"Surely it's wrong to lie about us…"

"It's not lying," said Harry, "It's just not telling the truth."

Hermione frowned.

"Listen Hermione", said Harry in firm whisper, "The Order can't know about us. That includes Ron."

"But why?" she asked.

"You know why," said Harry testily, "They'll say "it will jeopardize their trust in us to undergo missions" because we're emotionally attached and blah blah blah."

'How convenient,' thought Hermione to herself, 'you get to stay best friends even though you're dating his ex-fling just because we're all members of the same league…meanwhile my best friend won't even look at me...'

Hermione turned to face Harry. She was going to tell him she didn't feel fully right about their secrecy, but she met his intense green eyes. Harry had been so quiet and depressed lately and his eyes had been turning dim. But when he looked at her they were more alive then ever… like they used to be. She missed that look, and couldn't bear to see it fade from her good friend's eyes again, so she received Harry's soft kiss without protest …