A/N: I am sorry about the long time between updates! These past two or so weeks have just sorta flown by...and there has been a ton of real life to get in the way of writing.

Anyway, I am planning for the plot to really start picking up after this. You get a little bit of what happened to Draco in this chapter...and that is a big part of the story. I don't know when I will reveal entirely what happened, but you will find out at some point (I have an odd habit of referring to events and never actually telling what happened. Well, you will find this out).

Chapter 8: Hopefully

It was strange. It was so, so strange how that little girl brought out the softer side of Draco Malfoy. How one word from her could make him almost smile. How one minute he would be like that, and the next he would revert to his harsh, cold way of acting. Christabelle, that girl who couldn't pronounce her r's, who seemed to be almost younger than she really was, could make Draco Malfoy almost seem human.

The door was locked as they left. For a moment, she wondered why all the locks she had seen so far used keys, rather than magic. However, she didn't have time to ponder this.

Malfoy had one hand on her wrist as he closed the door, though his grip was not a tight as it had been. A slight amount of trust? She doubted it. More likely a trap. The moment she moved she'd be hit by some curse, and then locked up so securely that she wouldn't have any chance of escape.

And escape was what she wanted. It would have been so much easier, were Christabelle not with her. Despite the fact that they were not related in any way, she would not—no, she could not—leave a child in Voldemort's grasp.

He would probably hurt her if I ran. I could gamble against it and run, hoping that Christabelle would be safe…but I am not willing to take that risk. As it is, he has not hurt her, has not touched her. For my safety…I won't sacrifice hers. That would make me as bad as he.

"Granger. Come on."

Her eyes snapped to Malfoy and her feet hurried to catch up to him. "Can't you warn me before you start walking, Malfoy? I'm getting sick of having to run!"

He didn't slow down his pace. "I did warn you, Granger. And isn't running behind me better than being tortured by the Dark Lord?"

She swallowed, taking one large step that allowed her enough space to catch up to him. "I suppose so. However, it would be nice if you would slow down. Just a little, that's all."

"Well, well, well. My nephew, taking his pet mudblood out on a walk. It's just so cute, I could vomit."

Malfoy's eyes flashed dangerously in the dimly lit hall and he halted in his tracks. "Hello, aunt."

Bella Lestrange stepped out before them. She had been lounging in an open doorway, white light filtering through and casting eerie shadows upon the walls. Her eyes were almost closed, though not in a way that implied tiredness. It was more of a slanted, alert look, as though she was concentrating with all her might. Her eyes were contrasted by her mouth, which was twisted in lazy smile. There was another in the doorway as well, a figure with the slightest hunch to his back, and a feral looking face.

"Greyback," Malfoy said, never missing a beat as the werewolf came into view.

"Draco Malfoy." He inclined his head slightly. "It is…good to see you."

Bella tossed her dark hair, stepping forward so that she was within a foot of her nephew. "Does the Dark Lord know that you have the mudblood out of her room?"

"She's harmless, Lestrange. She has no wand in her possession."

"You didn't answer my question, Malfoy," she almost hissed. Behind her, Greyback leaned against the wall, watching the exchange with interest. "Does the Dark Lord know?"

There was a moment of silence, where the two relatives stood facing each other, eyes locked. One might think that Malfoy's hesitation meant that no, Voldemort didn't know, but taken in context…it was more of a power struggle. Aunt versus nephew. If he answered, Hermione supposed that it could be considered a win on Bella Lestrange's part, though none of this quite made sense to her. Hadn't she once heard something about this woman being Malfoy's favorite aunt? Or was it the other way around? Or had she even heard it at all? The feeling of confusion had become normal for her, and so she simply pushed them aside. She would think more on them later.

"He took her to see the girl."

Hermione's eyes flew wide open as she heard Greyback's words. What--?

"That poor little girl," Greyback continued, moving forward, one hand reaching out and brushing through Hermione's hair. She wanted to shrink away from him, but she remained still, though her eyes must have conveyed all of her fear, for he laughed deep in his throat. "Yes, I can smell her on you. On you both." He smiled, showing white teeth that were more pointed than was normal for a human. "I'll have her sometime, you do know that."

"When my lord allows it, Fenrir. And not a moment before. Boy! Where are you going?"

Malfoy had begun to walk again, dragging Hermione along with him. A glance back showed her Bella's furious face.

"This is a waste of my time. If you think to question my loyalty to Lord Voldemort, Bella Lestrange, then I say that you obviously have forgotten just exactly how loyal I am to him." He paused, and turned his head so that his eyes locked once more with those of his aunt. "I truly hope, Lestrange, that you have not forgotten."

Bella's eyes narrowed even farther and her lips quirked into a sneer. "Oh, I haven't forgotten, my dear nephew. Though I do think that that was self preservation, rather than showing any sort of loyalty."

Malfoy's grip tightened on Hermione's arm, and she saw him clench his teeth, his face paling slightly. "You can have your opinion, Lestrange. Think whatever the hell you want. I could care less." Then he jerked Hermione around, almost dragging her after him as he headed down the hall.

She would have said something. She really would have. But the look on her face told her that anything she said would most likely end up with her being yelled at, threatened, or cursed. So she held her tongue and simply struggled to keep up.

She was aching again, aching all over. Her headache was back, stronger than ever after the last confrontation, and she was sure that she had a fever. Vomiting…yes, she felt like vomiting, but she wouldn't. She couldn't. She—

She stumbled, one foot slipping out from under her. If it weren't for Malfoy's hold on her, she would have tumbled to the ground. As it was, she fell, her knees scraping across the cold stone, though nothing more than her legs touched the ground. He held her up, though he didn't stop and she found herself being pulled along, her arm almost being jerked from its socket. The urge to vomit grew stronger, though she still fought against it.

"Malfoy…please stop…" And to her horror, the words came out sounding like a plea. She, Hermione Granger, would not plead with Draco Malfoy. She wouldn't!

At least, the Hermione from Hogwarts wouldn't. The girl who constantly had her nose in a book, the one who was taunted and teased for so many of her years, she wouldn't. But the young woman who had been tortured, who worried for Christabelle, who didn't know how much longer she would live…she would.

It frightened Hermione to no end.

But that was it. When he didn't stop and she continued to be dragged along the ground, she just let go. Let her head fall against her arm, and let her body go limp. It was all that she could do. She was sure that her body was shaking, sure that she had broken out in a cold sweat, sure that she wouldn't be able to walk, even if she wanted to. She'd held off the pain long enough, and now it was all flooding back.

"Granger." Malfoy had stopped, dropped her arm. She slumped to the ground and the only thing that kept her head from hitting the stone was that her arm hit the ground first.

"Sorry," she whispered, her eyes closed. She really wanted to sleep. Sleep, or vomit, and she wasn't sure which one she wanted more.

She thought that she heard him sigh. She opened her eyes a crack and saw that he had knelt beside her.

"Look, Granger, you need to get up."

"S-sorry. I don't think I can."

There was a moment of silence, then she felt his arms slid under her, picking her up from the ground.

"You know, I am getting very sick of having to carry you."

She managed a small smile. "Glad that I've succeeded in annoying you." The smile faded as she felt him stumble, moving her body enough that it sent a fresh wave of nausea through her. "Could you—? Never mind."

"What were you going to say, Granger?"

"It doesn't matter—wait, stop, I think I'm going to—" She turned her head away from him, feeling her stomach lurch into her throat. She coughed, then dry retched, feeling the back of her throat convulse.

Malfoy stilled as she made sure that she wouldn't actually vomit. "You all right?" he asked after a few moments.

Another unexpected thing from him. Hermione let her head fall back against his shoulder. "Yeah, just great. Wonderful." She let her eyes close, concentrating on keeping her stomach under control as he began to walk again.

"You are a pretty lousy liar, Granger."

"If you knew, why did you even ask in the first place?"

There was silence, broken only by the sound of a key being inserted into a lock, of metal scraping upon metal. Then the familiar sound of a door being opened, then closed. A moment later she found herself lying on her back on the bed.

"You had better rest, Granger," Malfoy said, standing back. "The Dark Lord won't come here, so you don't have to worry about him. For now."

"Hmm? What was that?" She was watching him carefully now, though her eyelids kept drooping, closing, then flickering open again. "Why won't he come here?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It's an old trick. Allow the person who is being tortured one place to feel safe, one place where he can't touch them. Then, take it away. But he won't do that for awhile, yet, Granger. He's going to take away everything else, first."

Her stomach lurched again, but this time it wasn't from nausea. The way he said it…it was almost like he knew exactly what was done…either he had done this to someone, or it had been done to him.

"That's…reassuring," was all she could think to say. Then she thought back to the question that she had asked him, yet he had never given her an answer to. "Hey, Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you call me 'Mudblood' anymore?"

There was another moment of silence, so long that she almost thought that he hadn't heard her. When he finally spoke, she was so close to being asleep that she, herself, barely heard.

"Because you've got enough problems right now, Granger. You've got to deal with so much, that you don't need me to call you that."

"Oh." She said it softly, though she hadn't fully understood all of his words. Then she gave in to what her body was telling her, and let herself slip off into a deep sleep.

…

He didn't leave the moment that she fell asleep. Rather, he sat down on a chair that stood in the corner, and watched her.

It was odd…finding someone like her here. Not that he was surprised about Voldemort taking her. It was something that he would do, were he in Voldemort's position. It was a smart moving, given how much of an effect she had in the life of Harry Potter. Women were so often times the weakness that a man would have. And while Draco knew that Potter was not interested in Granger in a romantic sense, he also knew that they were very close friends. Besides, that boy, Weasley, liked the girl. Between those two things, it was almost a given that Potter would come for her, either from his own feelings for her, or at his friends urgings.

Personally, he didn't really care if they came or not. Even though he hated Potter…it just wasn't important to him anymore.

What he had told Granger was true, about him no longer calling her a mudblood. She had so much to deal with that there was almost no point at demeaning her anymore. She probably wouldn't notice, or care, in any case. He gave a half smile as he thought about it. She noticed it far more when he didn't call her a mudblood. Not that he really cared if she noticed him or not. Though it was nice to have someone there…

The past few months had been hard on him. So incredibly hard, and he was almost certain that he had blocked out a few of the memories. He wasn't sure, at any rate, about some of the things that had happened. But he knew most of it. Just the…details were a little sketchy in his mind. He knew everything that had happened to him, everything that he had done. At least the basics of it.

He leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out before him. He'd leave in a few moments, but it was nice to have a time where he didn't have to worry about Voldemort and Death Eaters. He had told the truth: Voldemort wouldn't come t this room, not for quite a long time. No other Death Eaters would, either. It was all part of Voldemort's method for breaking the girl. It really didn't matter that Draco had told Granger about the whole room thing. Her mind would warp eventually, so that even the knowledge of it wouldn't help her.

It was sad…in the back of his mind, he acknowledged it. That this was all happening to her. He didn't like her, didn't care much for her, but half the things that happened to anyone weren't deserved. And Hermione Granger didn't deserve this.

However…

He sat straight up as a thought hit him. This could all work out to his advantage. If he played this all correctly…he could use Granger for his own gain. He could do that…

So he sat there for quite a while longer, scheming up what he would do. He highly doubted that he could do any of it for awhile, but it didn't hurt to plan. It would help him…and it would help her. Hopefully.

A/N2: Well, hope that you liked it. I will say this: nothing in this story, not description, and none of the personalities, will shift to fit with the new movie that is out. I haven't actually seen it as of now...but I will. Eventually. To me, the books and the movies are almost separate entities. And fan fiction is something else entirely.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing,

Raven