A/N: Okay, so it's been two weeks. Sorry about that. I've just got so much to write that this story kind of got pushed to the back burner. But don't worry! I'm not going to abandon it. And after Sunday I won't have one of my other stories to write on ('cause it will be done!), to there will be more time for me to work on this.

Anyway, I decided not to up the rating. Yet. Maybe in a few chapters, but I don't have any content that would be an 'M' rating (yet).

Thank you's to all of my reviewers! I really appreciate the feed back. There were a few questions, so I'll try to answer them...

cutehelenjames- They might. This story is mostly going to be told from Hermione's point of view, but I will be sticking in a few things from Harry and Ron's side in one of the next to chapters.

TurboTwistedFire- Thank you for catching that error! I've gone back and fixed it. Also, to answer some of your questions...I think I will have Severus Snape show up, but as for Narcissan and Lucius...maybe. Possibly.

Zahrah- Glad you like the story. On, and not planning on making it rape or smutty. This story is more about Hermione's ordeal and, of course, what happened to Draco than anything else.

urges- Thank you for the compliment! And I am glad that you liked that last part; that was the effect I was going for.

Once again, thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 7: Connection

Hermione was barely conscious as when Voldemort left. Her body lay on the ground, her eyes half closed, breathing hard. She was still wracked with pain, but lying there, curled up in a ball, was the only thing that she could do to try and stop it.

She hadn't told him anything. And that was the thought that kept her from losing it entirely. She hadn't told him what they were doing. She hadn't…all she had done was scream. Scream, beg, cry. But that was all.

Voldemort hadn't been pleased, of course. And yet…and yet he had seemed very amused as he walked out of the room. Amused for some reason that Hermione could not fathom, most likely because her mind was occupied entirely with the pain in her body.

She heard footsteps that stopped as they came to a point next to her. Then she felt herself being lifted and she whimpered, the movement causing her body to alight with pain as though she had been submerged in fire. Someone was holding her—carrying her—and walking.

Her head throbbed and the fact that she was now moving didn't help. Not at all. But she closed her eyes tight, clenched her hands into fists, and tried to ignore all the feeling in her body.

She would have preferred it if she had passed into unconsciousness. Then she wouldn't have to deal with any of this. She'd just have…nothing. She would feel nothing, see nothing. For a little while she wouldn't be in this mess.

Whoever was holding her was walking faster now, jostling her. A corner of her mind told her that she was being taken up a flight of stairs. Every so often the person would pause, as though she were too heavy to be carried. Then they would start again and her head would pound.

She wanted to pass out. Faint. Just…let go. But for some reason she couldn't. She just couldn't fall into unconsciousness. Something wouldn't let her.

Another pause in the person's steps and she heard the creaking of a door as it opened. Then she felt herself being set down, felt a blanket being pulled over her body.

Her eyes flickered open as the door shut again and she didn't see who had carried her.

…

When she woke in the morning her head ached fiercely, aided by the bright sunlight that streamed into the room. At least, she thought it was morning. Whatever time it was…she was just unhappy to be awake. Because all the pain come back. Except it wasn't as prominent, it didn't hurt as much.

But it still hurt. It still hurt more than she wanted it to.

She sat up, ignoring the throbbing in her head. She still wore the clothing that she had the day before, though it was crumpled from having been slept in, stained with sweat from the ordeal she had been through. She didn't like it, but she didn't think that she could move enough to change.

There was a tray of food sitting by the door, just as it had been the day before. Slowly, she moved from the bed to it, each movement labored, sending pain through her arms and legs. When she finally made it to the food she nearly collapsed, only keeping herself from falling completely to the ground by one braced arm. Then it wavered and gave out, sending her sprawling on the floor, arms and legs splayed, knocking over the glass of—water? Had it really been water? —that was on tray. She gave a small cry, felt tears come to her eyes.

With enormous effort she reached out a hand, taking hold of the bowl of porridge and pulling it towards her. The other hand went for the spoon and she brought both of them towards herself. The food was cold, but she ate it all the same, though each movement, every bite, every time she swallowed caused her to wince.

She felt so…so weak. So helpless.

Harry… She hated to admit it, but she wanted him to come for her. She wanted him and Ron to find her, to get her away from this. It was selfish, and she knew it, but she wanted to escape. She wanted them to take her away. Ron…

She wanted them to find her. If only there was some way for them to get to her without coming near, without being detected by Voldemort. If only…

She sniffed, tears coming to her eyes. She fell back to the floor, pushing the bowl and tray and spoon and glass away from her, resting her head on the ground. One hand covered her eyes as she cried, though she remained silent. It was only tears.

She lay on her stomach, crying until she heard footsteps outside of the room. She went cold and felt instantly sick to her stomach. Her tears stopped and as the door opened again the only thing that remained to show that she had been crying was the redness of her eyes.

The door closed and Malfoy knelt beside her. "Granger."

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice hoarse. She swallowed hard and spoke again. "Going to take me back down there, Malfoy?"

Malfoy was silent for a moment, then stood up. She remained there on the ground, didn't see where he went. But she heard the sound of running water. And then he came back.

"You need to get up," he said gruffly, crouching down next to her again.

She gave a small laugh that came out as more of a cough. "Oh, I do? That's nice." She closed her eyes again.

Next thing she knew he had scooped her up in his arms and had carried to the—what? The bathroom? And then he dropped her into the tub, into ice cold water.

Her head went under the water and she inadvertently inhaled, then came up coughing and spluttering. "What the—" she coughed violently, expelling water, "—hell was that for, Malfoy?" She glared up at him through tendrils of dripping hair.

Malfoy draped his arms over the side of the tub, helping her to remain in an upright position. "I told you that you needed to wake up, Granger. This is the most effective way to accomplish that."

"Oh, so no magic?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Doesn't work as well as freezing water. Besides, you've had too much magic used on you today as it is."

Hermione let her head fall back, staring up at the ceiling. "So that was all today?"

"Yes. And you need not worry, Granger. I'm not taking you back there. Yet. The Dark Lord will only see you once a day."

She glanced over at him. Damn, the water was cold! But she was getting used to it. And she had to admit, it had woken her up completely. Not that it had taken away the pain, but it had brought her back more use of her body. "That's comforting. So, then, why are you here?"

He was silent for a moment, his eyes locked with hers. "Because I wanted t-to make sure that you were all right."

She frowned. "Draco Malfoy, concerned about me? Has the world stopped spinning or something?"

Malfoy's mouth twisted and he stood up. "Glad to see you can keep that extremely entertaining wit about you, even after being tortured. Can't you be pleasant for even a minute, Granger?"

Hermione laughed. "Oh, that's rich. That's just perfect. You are telling me that I can't be pleasant? Since when have you ever been pleasant to me?" He said nothing. "Hypocrite."

"Shut up, Granger," she heard him growl, though his back was still to her and she couldn't see his face. "Shut the hell up. You know—"

"Nothing," she finished for him. "You've said that before." She stood up, wincing slightly as she did so. "Now, are you going to give me a towel or are you just going to let me freeze?"

He grabbed the remaining towel from the rack and threw it at her. "There. You want a towel? Take it!"

Hermione clutched the towel to her chest. She needed to change clothes, but not with Malfoy there. "Um…"

"What?"

Hermione flinched, knowing that she had screwed up. For a moment, Malfoy had acted human, had not been the cold, emotionless person that she had seen the past few days. And she'd screwed that up so badly… "Um…" She sidestepped him, grabbing her clothes from where she had hung them before, the clothes that she had been traveling. "Is there any chance that you could…leave the bathroom? So I can change?"

He didn't speak, just left.

Hermione closed the door behind her, keeping her back as firmly against it as she could while she stripped off the sodden shirt and skirt. There was no lock on the bathroom door, and she didn't want to give him the chance to open it. She doubted that he would, but one never knows…

She pulled on her old clothes, her stained pair of jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a sweater, and then hung up her wet clothes. She felt uncomfortable; her undergarments were soaked and she didn't want to leave them on under the dry clothing. So they were hung up as well.

Then she opened the door. Malfoy was still there, waiting for her. She crossed her arms over her chest, thoroughly self-conscious. And to top it all off, her headache wasn't going away.

"Well? Did you want something?"

Malfoy inclined his head. "Yes. You've been wanting to know what happened to Christabelle, haven't you?"

Hermione stared at him for a moment. She had almost forgotten about the girl in the past day. "Y-yeah," she finally said. "But what—?"

"I can take you to her. You are allowed to be out of this room, as long as there is someone with you. As I constitute as 'someone,' I can take you to where she is being kept."

Hermione's mouth dropped open slightly. "Y-you'd do that? Let me see her?" He nodded. "That's…I didn't expect you to…"

"You don't know a lot about me, Granger."

She frowned again, her arms still crossed over her chest. "And…can you just answer this for me, Malfoy? Why are you calling me Granger?"

"Because 'Hermione' is to personal and you are not my friend, so I see no reason to—"

"No," she cut in, "not that. Why haven't you been calling me 'mudblood?'"

He was silent for a moment. "Do you want to see Christabelle or not?"

"Yes. But I also want you to answer my question."

"Another time," he said, and his tone told her that there was no way that he was going to answer at the moment. "Now, come." He reached out and grabbed her by the arm.

"Hey!" His grip on her arm hurt and she was sure that she would have a bruise there. "Could you not—"

"Look, I can't chance you running off."

Hermione kept one arm crossed over her chest. "You didn't let me finish. I was going to ask if you could not hold my arm so tightly, but I suppose that doesn't really matter, since you seem to think you are a mind reader."

Malfoy gave a short laugh as he opened the door. "No, Granger. I'm no mind reader. Didn't bother to take Divination."

"Good thing you didn't. It was a terrible class." Hermione quickened her steps to match his gait, so that she wasn't being dragged along. "A load of crap."

"Oh, you took it?"

She nodded. This walking—really, it was more of a run—was not helping her head. "Walked out of it before third year ended."

Malfoy stopped. "You walked out of a class? As in, actually quit the class?" She nodded again. "That seems pretty uncharacteristic for you."

"And it seems uncharacteristic for you to give a damn about me, but you actually seem to be slightly concerned. Life's full of surprises." She wasn't sure where exactly they were. They had turned several corners. They were still in a hall, that much was for sure. But—

Malfoy began to walk again and it took a moment where he was dragging her along for her to realize that they were moving again. And then it was another moment before she was able to get her footing again and actually start walking by herself.

"Please, can't you just slow down?"

He didn't answer, just stopped in front of one of the doors. Then he reached into his robes and pulled out a rusted key, inserting it into the lock and turning it. There was a faint clicking sound and then he removed the key, replacing it in his pocket.

"She's in here," he said, turning the doorknob and pushing it open. He pushed her inside, releasing her arm, locking the door behind them.

It was a room not unlike her own, though smaller, with a tiny, grimy window. The blankets on the bed were ruffled, and a small figure was sitting there, covered almost entirely with a sheet.

"Christabelle?" Hermione called out softly, and the figure stirred, turning around.

" 'mione?" She saw the small mouth say the word. "Izzat you?"

Hermione nodded. The little girl smiled, jumping off the bed and ran to her, the sheet trailing behind her, and wrapped her arms around Hermione's waist. "Hello, Christabelle." She shot a glance at Malfoy, who was standing by the door.

"He hasn't done anything to her," he said shortly, and Hermione gave a sigh of relief. From somewhere near her stomach, came Christabelle's voice.

"Is 'at Dwaco?"

Hermione gave a start, but answered all the same. "Yes, that is."

Christabelle looked around Hermione. "Hi, Dwaco."

Hermione looked back at him again and saw him give the girl a warm smile. "Hello, Christabelle."

The girl released Hermione and walked over to Malfoy, hugging him in a similar manner. And to Hermione's amazement, he hugged her back.

"I'm not as cruel as you think me to be," he said, seeing her watching him. "Just as I am in charge of taking you from place, so am I in charge of Christabelle. I'm one of the onlypeople that she has seen since both of you were taken, just as you have—okay, admittedly you have seen far more than she has seen."

"Hm." Hermione thought that there was more to it than that, but Christabelle had taken to her quickly, so it was also possible that she had attached herself to Malfoy in a similar way, hard as that was to believe. "I suppose I believe you."

" 'm glad you awe here, 'mione," piped up Christabelle. "I been sooo bored. There's nothing to do."

Hermione reached over and ruffled the girl's hair. "I'm glad to see you to, Christabelle. But I'm afraid that I can't stay long." She looked up at Malfoy and he nodded. "I have…other things to do. Understand?"

Christabelle nodded. "I understand. Bu' can you come back sometime?"

She smiled down at the girl. "I will try."

"And that said, Granger, I'm going to need to take you back now," came Malfoy's harsh voice.

"Wha—?"

"Hermione needs to go now, Christabelle. Do you understand that?" Christabelle nodded and hugged Malfoy again. Malfoy patted her on the head. "Now, say good bye."

As Christabelle hugged her, Hermione began to wonder how this girl could make Malfoy's demeanor change so drastically. What…

She left the room with Malfoy, casting one last look at the forlorn looking girl. "Good bye, Christabelle."

The door was locked shut.

A/N2: All right, you know the drill. Errors, questions, and comments. Oh, and I wasn't sure if Malfoy had been in Divination or not. I checked book 3 and couldn't find mention of him being in there, but I didn't check thoroughly. If you know otherwise, please tell me.

Anyway, hope that you enjoyed this chapter!

Raven