Title: The Guest

Rated: M

Summary: Death Eaters are on the hunt to kill a traitor and in the mean time; the traitor makes himself comfortable in Hermione Granger's home.

Chapter 2

It was a big mistake. No, it was the worst mistake he had ever made. What in the world made him open the door? He wondered as he repeatedly blinked. He had two reactions to the sight before him. One was a natural reaction any male species would have and the other was a personal reaction. It wasn't everyday he would come across a view of a woman, so exposed. And it also wasn't everyday he saw Hermione Granger, topless.

He mentally cursed Merlin because the natural reaction he just received was noticeably standing erect through his very loose boxers. Of course, a certain bushy haired woman would not notice such things when she, herself, was in a horrible disposition. With her back half bent, face completely pale, eyes wide and glistening, Draco almost –if not at all- thought she was not bad to look at. She may be a muggleborn but at least, her body was womanly. His male instincts would have wanted him to continue studying his new discovery but Granger finally came into function.

Swiftly, she grabbed her t-shirt off the floor and covered her front from view. Her pale skin grew terribly red as her next reaction left Draco staggered. The white towel she had found for him was in his face quicker than a flying bludger. As he pulled the towel down from his face, her long slender legs moved across the room in hastily speed, pushing him back with her free hand and slamming the door very rudely on his face. Draco stood in the dark hall, alone and confused. Who was she to react in such a way? It wasn't like he asked for her to be half-naked. She was the one who went off to fetch him a towel. He was a Malfoy and he didn't like being kept waited. Patience was not one of his virtues and of course, so he took the matter into his own hands.

But did he regret what he saw? Not at all, he was a man of course. And men couldn't hate stumbling a cross such a show. He wasn't exactly happy about it but this could come to his advantage in the near future. With a small snide grin, Draco peered down to the towel in his hand. His mind held on the image though, her breasts were not the least bit bad to look at. He had always thought bras would make women's' features slightly saggy. But not her; they were full, firm and…perky?

"Shit, I do need a shower," he thought as he noticed he was still slightly erect.

Without a second to waste, Draco curtly moved across the small hall way to the very small bathroom. He rolled his eyes, if he was going to be stuck with Granger, the least she could have done was purchase a better place to call a home. He was not use to small appliances, small rooms, or small…anything. But what could he do about the circumstances? Draco slipped out of his sweat shirt lazily and stared at the mirror. He had a few faint marks across his left chest, in close proximity to his heart. His angry face had softened in memory of how the scars got there or how it felt getting it. He could never explain how he felt about anything anymore but he knew one thing for sure. He hated it.

Hatred towards his life was –in his opinion- incomparable. Who would have thought his life would shift so drastically in a matter of two years? One minute spending his time relaxing in his castle-like mansion and the next, suffocating in a small apartment –if you can call it that- of the last person he thought he'd communicate with after Hogwarts. Communication to him did not necessarily mean a direct civil conversation, it meant being within eye distance. And Draco Malfoy did not want to be in any distance whatsoever with those he blamed for the hell of a life he lived.

It felt like yesterday, when he attended his father's court hearing. Charges against his father were so many that the panel judges did not bother with listing them. It was beyond evident to the prosecutors and the Wizarding community that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. No sane person could disagree to that, not even Draco himself. The thought alone was repulsing. His father, the man who taught Draco to think, breathe and be just like himself was being placed in prison. Draco clearly remembered the jolt that swept through his veins as he fought back tears. There was so much likeness between his father and himself that he was surprised they didn't prosecute him as well. It was that moment that Draco realized something.

He was on his own, besides having his mother stringing along. He was left to defend himself and his family name. Left to continue on the legacy his father had forcefully placed upon him. And Draco was anxious. It was the same freedom and power that placed Lucius in this very situation in front of many disdained eyes.

Slowly he came back to reality from the creaking of the floor boards outside the bathroom. For a split second he wondered if Granger was checking up on him to see if he had really went off to shower. He would have loved to see her reaction if he suddenly decided to leave and not return. Certainly Mad-Eye Moody would have her head for not being on guard. That shall teach them a lesson to leave it to a girl to keep him 'safe'. Even if he wanted to leave and do as he pleased, he would never get anywhere far wandless. In a helpless sigh, he continued to undress. He turned on the faucet and when the temperature was right, he entered the shower. Water tickled his skin as he closed his eyes remembering that final night his father was being taken away to Azkaban.

He remembered watching the finale of the trial, remembered his father giving his only son one last meaningful look. 'Continue the legacy, do not mess up,' it screamed at him. Draco did not dare break eye contact as his father who was finally carried away by two Dementors into a door behind the judge panel. Draco remembered coming up with a conclusion that night as his mother and him went home silently. He was going to have to change things around in order not to end up in the very same predicament. But it was just a mere thought, not really much determination went through afterwards because he spent his whole summer of his sixth year helping his mother fight through the anger and humiliation, not the loss of a loved one but for dignity.

Suddenly a jet of cold water sprinkled his skin and the shock it left made him jump back, slip on the wet floor and bang his head against the white tile wall. He lay there for about a minute, watching splotches of black move in circles in front of his eyes. It luckily didn't give him a concussion but it left him dazed for a few more minutes when the water began to completely loose its substance of heat. Draco cursed as he sat up. Leave it to Granger to have a muggle faucet that doesn't have hot water for more then ten minutes. What happened to her magic? Was she completely a muggle outside of Hogwarts? Draco rolled his eyes because he be damned to care. All he wanted was to get out of the shower and complain to her the moment he laid his eyes on her.

Draco grabbed the towel he was given and wrapped it around his waist then cursed. He didn't even get to have a proper shower because of her damn water in her damn apartment. Angrily, and stupidly, he stepped out of the bathroom, walked down the hall and banged on her bedroom door. Hermione opened the door with a glint in her eyes and a visible smirk.

"Hello, Malfoy."

Draco suddenly caught on. She must have hexed the water when she was lurking outside the bathroom door. Grasping this Draco replied sourly, "Don't you dare hello me. You casted a spell on that bloody water haven't you? I could have died in your shower! And, I assure you, I do not want to die in your hell of an apartment let alone your shower!"

"Malfoy, now don't you think you're a being a tad bit juvenile?" Hermione said calmly. "I would never hex the water to become suddenly very cold. It wouldn't be my style."

Draco was very near maddening as he lifted his finger to say something when he couldn't think of anything. All his frustration went into clenching and unclenching his other hand.

"Is something the matter?" Hermione asked in a fake concerned voice. "You might want to dry off, wouldn't want to catch a cold, now would we?"

Draco finally found his voice and stared at Granger menacingly. "If you think that you could get away with that Granger, think again. Just because I have to slightly tolerate you does not mean I will allow you to play games with me." And with that, Draco stalled off into the living room where his belongings remained.

He was still very much angry. But fighting back without a wand wasn't going to get him anywhere which was why he began to plot away as he found himself a new pair of boxers to wear. By morning, he wanted to leave Granger staggered even if it meant burning her apartment down while he was at it.

A/N: Big thanks to my beta and friend, May :) Great job girl.