Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews! I know short chapters with God-forsaken cliffhangers are the absolute death to a reader. ) However, it is imperative that I keep the first three chapters that way. Just to keep you guessing. I mean, Draco and Hermione haven't even met yet! So, now goes the dilemma. How would they meet?

I'm kidding, of course. But as you know, I don't like putting up work that isn't up to my standards. I had a lot of problems with how the story should unfold so it took me quite a while to write it. Anyways, enough of my insignificance! On with the story!

Chapter 4

Draco was in his study when he heard it.

The Slytherin was seated at his desk, reading a few reports on the current condition of the company when he heard the most horrifying thing he had ever heard: Hermione Granger, screaming that they let her go now or heaven forbid that she would gather up the strength to use wandless magic and curse them all to fucking hell! Draco Malfoy couldn't help but cringe. It was okay for Slytherins to swear. Hell, it was alright for them to say anything they wanted to say; but those words coming from a Gryffindor? It was... discomforting to say the least.

Gathering up his thoughts, he pushed himself away from his desk and stood up. He had loosened his tie; the long sleeves of his light gray dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows in an attempt to relax. Never mind the fact that he couldn't concentrate on his work the whole time that the others were doing their, shall we say, job. It had been their biggest hit yet; no potions, no duels, the time not even quite appropriate for the whole thing. But they were losing time.

And in Draco's perspective, the sooner they did it, the sooner they can let her go.

He opened the door to his study, walked down the hall and down the flight of stairs to where they were currently holding her. Her screams grew louder, but her voice was becoming more hoarse by the minute and if Draco wasn't too busy trying to come up with what to say, he would have heard that she was on the verge of crying.

And when he saw her, he had to stop dead in his tracks. There, in the middle of his sitting room was Hermione Granger trying to wrench away from Gregory Goyle's grasp. Her long, curly hair was a mess, having worked loose from its binds. It flew all over the place, covering her features so that Draco couldn't tell if she was crying at that point. It was Flint who noticed his presence and looked at him with a sigh of relief. The only other person in the room was Vincent Crabbe, who was looking at Hermione like she was the she-devil herself.

Flint and Crabbe managed to stand only a few feet away from the struggling woman, trying their best not to interfere. This was impossible, as Hermione was getting more and more furious at the moment. It wasn't until Goyle saw Draco that he managed to turn her to the direction where Draco was currently standing, still very much in shock. He didn't expect her to look so defeated yet so determined at the same time.

Hermione drew in a sharp breath. One reason was that Goyle had twisted her arm behind her, stilling her movements. Another reason was that she hadn't expected him to be standing there, with his arms hanging limp at his sides, as if he hadn't expected her either.

It took about for what seemed like eternity when in reality it was only a few seconds for them to realize the enormity of the situation. It was Hermione who spoke (rather, shouted) first.

"You!" She cried out. "You're the reason why these goddamn imbeciles kidnapped me!" Hermione was beyond reason and deep into her anger and fury that Flint winced.

The four men pretended that they never even heard her say what she had said.

"It's a few minutes to nine, Granger," Draco stated in a calm yet commanding voice. "I think it would be wise if you kept you voice down. After all, I am right here."

Hermione was about to retort when she stopped herself. Shouting would only mean that they had won over her, she reasoned with herself. And so, she kept quiet. But this silence was not without a glare in Draco's direction. Her breathing was sharp as she tried to calm herself. She looked at him with venom, silently berating him with her eyes.

And then she remembered... 'a few minutes to nine'? Harry!

Without any warning at all, Hermione started to cry.

-

Meanwhile, the fire in the Potions Laboratory had been quenched. A number of Aurors, Harry included, were at the scene. They were trying to figure out if there were any casualties.

Harry went inside first. The place smelled of burned wood and a dozen other acrid smells. Harry choked down the bile that was beginning to rise up in his throat. Not only was the smell getting to him, it was the fact that Hermione was nowhere to be found. He had hoped that she was safe. But it seemed that the fates were against him this time.

He searched for her; his heart breaking just a little bit more at the sight of so much destruction. Images of the Great War were currently trying to work themselves back into his thoughts but he refused to give in. This was not some D.E.V.I.L. attack... it had no purpose. There were no telltale signs of a break-in or any sign at all this was anything more than an accident.

It was, in Harry's opinion, the beginning of the slow death of him. This case would be easier to handle if there had been a D.E.V.I.L. attack. At least there would be someone to blame this... destruction on. At least there would be people to hunt down and arrest as the perpetuators of this crime.

But an accident? Of no one's fault or doing? And Hermione smack in the middle of it?

Harry prayed for her safety, hoping against all the evidence that was presented to him at that moment.

The place was starting to feel a little cramped. He was starting to feel a claustrophobic; like the world was closing in on him. There seemed to be no trace of Hermione anywhere and he was starting to think that she had...

No! He could not think it! Surely his life wasn't meant to turn out this way..! It was not possible that the fates would be so cruel as to take her away from him. Not when he had gone through so much. Not when he was this close to having her in his life forever. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from breaking down in front of the others. He had to find her! She was smart; she couldn't have been the cause of this... accident.

He looked until he grew weary from the smell, from the taste of fear that was starting to ravage him. It wasn't until he turned over what seemed to be the remains of a table that he saw it. Harry turned his head away, refusing to cry yet refusing to believe that it was true.

Hermione's wand. The wand she had ever since; the one she used to practice every single charm and spell in every book had been broken in two. A couple of feet away was a dark patch of something that seemed to be like a potion that had spilled and erupted into flames.

That was when the world overwhelmed him in its wretched grasp.

-

Goyle looked at Draco helplessly as he let go of Hermione's arm. He was instructed earlier to keep hold of her lest she got away. But now, he hadn't expected her to break down in anguished sobs. She sank down to the thick carpet that covered the floor of the sitting room, her head in her hands.

Draco was speechless. He'd expected a fight; he was even prepared to engage himself in a shouting match with her until both their voices had been reduced to wheezes and such. He had not, under any circumstances, prepared himself for tears. No... not tears. Not from a Gryffindor. He looked to the others for help and found none. Flint had his lips pressed together, a sign that the older man had no idea what to do. Crabbe had a scared look on his face, as if she was going to melt right there in the carpet and he would be the one to blame for that melting. If they had any help to give, it was that the privacy that Draco would need with the witch.

He signaled them to leave, which they gratefully did, locking the door just in case and waiting outside. Draco took off the reading glasses he sometimes wore and massaged the bridge of his nose. He pocketed the glasses and walked over to where Hermione was sitting and crouched down beside her.

"Granger?" He said tentatively, as soft as he possibly could but loud enough to be heard. She made no indication that she wasn't listening to him and so he continued. "Do you want to know the reason why you are here?"

Merlin, he thought, but he was sounding... gentle. Gentleness was a trait which he never expressed. It was so out of character for him to be brought down to his knees, so to speak, by a lady's cries. Hermione made no reply so Draco took that as a sign to continue speaking. Might as well let her have all the details. After all, she didn't have a hand in her fate as of the night.

"You're here because I want something from you."

This time, Hermione stopped crying and turned her head slightly to where he was situated.

"I want you to make a potion for me." Draco continued, feeling rather encouraged by the fact that her crying had stopped. "Have you heard of Ahern's disease?"

Hermione slowly shook her head 'no'.

"It's quite unknown, I guess. Its symptoms include blood loss and hemorrhaging yet the blood has no coagulants. It cannot clot and yet it causes symptoms of clotting. The person inflicted with this disease is... conflicted within himself, so to speak." Draco stated, settling down on the carpet in favor of a more comfortable position.

"How do you know that it is Ahern's disease?" Hermione asked, the rage still evident in her voice, albeit her tone a bit tired. "I have read no such book that contains the specifics of that."

"Because it was used for dark purposes decades past. People wanted to forget that it ever existed." Draco answered. "I have some books that contain descriptions of it."

"And the cure?"

"Still unknown."

And unknown to both of them, they were having the most civilized conversation that they have ever had in their lives. Of course, they still refused to look at each other in the eye and they sat a foot away from each other. Hermione's reasons were that of anger and frustration and distress over the events. Draco's were of prejudice, for lack of a better term.

"So you want me to make you a potion to cure it?" Hermione asked.

"Correct." He replied.

"For whom?"

"My father."

Hermione's eyes widened with surprise as she heard it. She immediately turned to Draco and almost forgot everything else. So much had changed in him! His hair was long and tied neatly at the nape of his neck; his eyes were the color of storm; his features were more defined. For the first time in her life, Hermione forgot who he was and what he meant to her... which, after a second's time, meant nothing at all.

"Isn't he supposed to be in Azkaban?" Hermione asked sharply. A convicted Death Eater was in their midst and Hermione wanted no part of it. Draco had the mark as well, but he turned against Voldemort at the last minute. But Lucius Malfoy?

Draco turned to her, his temper flaring already. "He was."

"Let me guess, Malfoy. You got him out of there." Hermione replied sarcastically. "Oh, wait a minute. Not you, exactly, but the rest of your hired hit-men. Am I right?"

"You always were... I don't see how that has changed." Draco said, raising an eyebrow.

"No. I won't do it." Hermione declared in a huff before continuing, "If you think for even one minute that I am going to help you save your father before his body rebels against him, then you must be out of your mind! I will certainly not-"

"I don't see how-"

"And don't you even think of interrupting me while I'm talking, Malfoy!" She interrupted, her eyes flashing.

Draco turned to her, his eyes looking her up and down, sizing her up. Hermione held her ground, clenching her fists tightly that her knuckles were turning white. He finally stood up and looked down on her.

"Never insult someone who has your fate in their hands." Draco started before Hermione could get a word in. Hermione pressed her lips together and looked away. He continued, "I hold your freedom, Granger. There is no way out of this."

"Fuck. You." Hermione replied, turning back to look at him with a look of pure hatred. If Draco was surprised at her reply, he didn't let on.

"Have it your way, then." Draco said before calling Flint and giving him instructions. She was to be taken to a room which was to be heavily warded. Hermione sat in silence, as if she was hearing the verdict that proclaimed her 'guilty' of a crime of which she had no part of. She let herself be taken away, never letting her gaze waver from Draco's face.

Author's Note 2: Well, tell me what you think! The next chapter is partly written because I want to hear what you think is going to happen next... I'll be waiting for your reviews! Oh yeah, 'Ahern's disease?' you might be asking. Well... a thousand points to anyone who can tell me where I got that from. )