A/N: Well, it has been awhile. Over two months, and I wish it hadn't taken so long for me to write this pathetically small chapter. Unfortunately, my writing time has been...well, almost no time at all. For several weeks the only extra time I had at all was from 4-5 pm, and that had to be used for eating.

This isn't all that I was able to get written in the free time that I did have, though. Originally, I wanted to put up a much longer chapter which continued where this one left off, but that part didn't turn out how I wanted it to, and so I have been rewriting it and rewriting it--still, it isn't what I want it to be yet. And, unfortunately, I will not have the use of the computer for the next week...

I do hope that you will all stay with the story, though. I am not abandoning it, I just have so little time to write that two to three weeks should be expected before the next chapter--though it may come much sooner. It all depends on if I can get that stupid chapter written.

So, thank you to all the readers and reviewers, and I hope that you will like this chapter. As always, if you see spelling/grammar errors, please point them out.

Chapter 12: Normality

Hermione remained standing in the center of the room for several minutes after he left, simply staring at the door. Then, when the sound of his footsteps had drifted away, she shook her head, clearing her mind as best she could. She had expected him to do just that--walk out and leave. Even though he had been surprising her more and more with his actions as of late, there were somethings that he would still do. And it didn't matter, either way. He did have other things that he had to do, she was sure of it. After all, he was a Death Eater, and she doubted that they stayed in this...manor, for lack of a better word, all the time. Not that she really wanted to know what he did when he wasn't with her...

The aches in her legs were getting worse—no doubt because she hadn't been moving around much at all. Well, there wasn't much room, but she was able to walk again. She began to walk, moving around the perimeter of the room, stretching her legs out as best she could.

This place where she was being kept...she suppose that she could call it a manor, though she really had no idea about its layout. At least two floors, she knew that, and at least two bedrooms and bathrooms on the second story. It was certainly large enough to hold many more rooms; even though she had tended to be fairly dazed each time that Malfoy took her through the place, she could still determine that it was quite large.

All the floors were stone. At least, every one that she had seen. She paused in her walking, gazing down at the ground. Larger stones, grey, some more smooth than others. They looked to be quite old, what with the more worn paths created by busy feet. Not hers, of course not. It looked as though...well, they had been there for quite awhile. She knelt down, tracing her fingers along the edge of one of the blocks of stone. She pursed her lips, scrapping a fingernail across the surface. Not even a scratch. Well, that confirmed it. The floor, at the very least, was incredibly old.

The walls looked to be made of the same material; she noted this as she began to pace again. Of course, the stone that composed the walls was not worn in the same manner as the floor. No one would be walking on the walls. Hermione allowed a small smile to flicker across her face at that thought. People walking on walls...although, she supposed that it was entirely possible. She had seen things far stranger than that it the past years.

As she completed another circuit around the room, she glanced at door. The wood looked very old as well, cracked and dry near the bottom, with long scratches trailing down it. Claw marks, almost. Long, deep gouges that started close to the top and continued all the way to the bottom. But they were not fresh, and some of them looked as though someone had tried to sand over then, trying to rid the wood of its disfigurement. The doorknob, as well as the hinges on the side, were all made of dark iron, in a style that she had not seen used in contemporary objects. The hinges were rusted in places, which explained why the door squeaked every time that it was opened.

Odd how she hadn't really noticed any of this before.

The window, on the other hand...she pivoted on her feet, heading toward it. The glass looked far newer than the stones or the door, though it was not new by any means. As she neared again, she noticed how the glass was warped. It wasn't just an effect created by the rain that still streamed down its face; the glass looked almost as though it were melting. Slowly, very slowly, but she could see the ripples in it, and how it appeared thicker near the bottom. She remembered looking at some of the older houses in her hometown with her parents once, and how her mother had pointed out how the old glass would slide and melt like this over time. She had never been told and had never learned how long it took for glass to look like this, but still...the glass must be old.

But it was inexpertly installed. Hermione could feel a small draft flow through the room and as she stopped by the window she could see small cracks around the edges, where the frame did not fit snugly enough.

So at least this room was old. But she remembered the doors that opened to the room where she met with Voldemort. They were very similar to these, though in much better condition.

A two-story stone building. All she could think of were the old forts and castles that could be found in various places around Britain and the rest of Europe. It didn't help her much, as she could be anywhere. Anywhere at all.

Her legs still hurt a fair amount, but she felt much better than she had earlier. What with the food and the exercise...but there were still aches all over her body. She doubted they would go away any time soon.

She could keep walking, she really could. But she didn't want to. The bed looked very inviting, sitting there in the corner of the room with the blankets all crumpled up on it. A wave of drowsiness ran through her and she made her way over to it, letting herself fall onto it.

Darkness washed over her, and she slept.

But sleep did not last for her. Though she wasn't entirely sure how long she slept, she was sure it couldn't have been more than one or two hours. Three at the most. But with the rain still pouring outside, and the clouds still covering the sun, she couldn't be sure about what time it was, or if the day had come or left or what. She didn't feel rested at all. If it was at all possible, she felt more exhausted than before.

"Did I wake you?" came Malfoy's voice from near the door and her head shot up. She had just propped herself up on her elbows when he crossed the room to her, tossing another bundle at her side. "There. Some more food, since I am sure that you need it." He sat down beside her on the bed, his posture very relaxed.

"Th-thank you," she managed, her mind still muddled by sleep. "Yeah, I do." Hermione unwrapped the bundle, spreading the contents out beside her. In addition to the apples and meat that were the same as what he had brought her before there was also a small hunk of cheese and a few stale rolls of bread. She smiled up at Malfoy for a moment, then bit into one of the apples. As whithered and small as it was, the flesh was sweet and it was juicy enough to please her. She was about to take another bite when Malfoy reached up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her movement.

"I wouldn't eat much more," he said, removing the apple from hand and setting it back into the cloth. "Keep all of this under the bed, or somewhere where it will not be seen. Got it?"

Hermione raised one of her eyebrows, looking at him in a confused manner. "No, I don't get it. Why bring the food, say I need it, and then take it away? As you probably can guess, or just did guess, I do actually need to eat." As if to prove the point, her stomach chose that moment to growl. She ignored it, concentrating on Malfoy.

The boy looked away from her, out the window, and ran a hand through is hair, sweeping it out of his face. "Eh...No, it doesn't make much sense. To you, at least. But it all makes perfect sense to me."

"Explain, Malfoy. Give me a reason why I shouldn't eat right now."

Malfoy sighed, turning his head back so that their eyes met. "Lord Voldemort it in a particularly bad mood at the moment. If you eat now, I doubt that it will stay down. He has a tendency to take out his frustrations on whoever is handy at that time."

"Oh." Hermione glanced down at the floor. "Wh-what happened? Or is it just mood swings, or something like that?"

Malfoy snorted. "Not mood swings. No, someone made a mistake last night. I'm not permitted to tell you exactly what happened, but he certainly isn't happy about it."

"Someone was killed?" she asked, though she knew, the moment after she said it, that it really meant nothing. Asking simply if someone was killed didn't specify if it was a Death Eater, someone she knew, or a muggle.

"Something like that," was his answer. "Herm—Granger. When I take you down there today, I want you to be careful. Don't...don't provoke him. He can be very...very cruel when things don't go his way."

"Like he isn't cruel already," she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. This was simply wonderful. She could probably end up dead by the end of the day, if she wasn't careful.

The side of Malfoy's mouth quirked in a humorless smile. "Oh, he can get worse. Far, far worse. Trust me on this." The half-smile died and his gaze intensified. "Don't do anything stupid, Granger. If you value your life—even tell him what he wants to--"

"No." His eyes widened at the force behind her words. She began to shake her head, tangled hair whipping around her face. "No, no, no. I will not tell him anything to save myself. I will not be that selfish. I won't." But she was trembling now, though she didn't want to. If things could get that bad, then she just...but she couldn't tell him. She couldn't. This was the only edge they had over him, the only one. That and having Harry, but still...they couldn't let him know, she wouldn't let him find out.

"Stop." Malfoy grabbed her shoulders, stilling her shaking form. "Granger, with how he was the last time I saw him, he might even force his way into your mind. Do you want that? Do you?"

"I'd kill myself before I let him in," she spat, and in that moment she knew that it was truly what she would do. She didn't know how, but she would not let him in, even if it meant taking her own life.

Malfoy moved away from her, shaking his head. "Damn it, what is it that you know that is so important?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Do you wish to catch me off guard, to make me tell you whatever it is that I know? What if I told you that there wasn't anything, Malfoy? And you tell me to trust you."

She saw his jaw clench and then unclench, his teeth grinding together. "Do not spin take my words out of context--"

"That's not what I'm doing! I told you, I would die before I told anyone!" Unknown to her, her voice was getting louder and angrier, as was his. "So don't try to trick me into telling you anything!"

Malfoy glared at her, his words hissing out from between his teeth. "Just. Tell. Me. Why would anything be worth giving up your life?"

So that was it. Hermione sat back, trying to stop her body from tensing up. "You just...you just think differently from me, Malfoy. There are many things, so many things, in fact, that are worth more than my life. But why do you even care, Malfoy? You hate me; I'm sure you would love to see me dead."

"Do not spin my words around like that. I do not hate you, and I thought I told you that! Damn it, do you hate life enough that you would throw it away? This is exactly what will get you killed today, you filthy little know-it-all mudblood!"

For a moment, it was as though someone had slapped her, and both of them sat perfectly still as silence fell around them. And then, once his last words had sunk in, she began to laugh. And laugh. Even as her sides began to ache and her breath come in quick snatches, she kept laughing.

"What is so funny?" His voice was dangerously low, but even that only served to calm her slightly. When she was able to meet his eyes again, Hermione smiled.

"You called me a mudblood." The smile remained, almost as though it were some sort of honor to be called such a derogatory word.

"And that's funny...how?"

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm herself further. "It's just...it just seemed like you were the Draco Malfoy I knew from school. Just a little bit, but you just seemed like...it seemed like everything was normal. For a moment it was all...normal."

Malfoy leaned back so that he rested against the bed's headboard. "Heh. Strange how being called a mudblood makes things feel normal. If you were anywhere but here, it would be best if you weren't known as a mudblood. But still...I see what you mean. Seeing as nothing is normal anymore..." His voice trailed off and he closed his eyes. "Of course, what is 'normal' to begin with?"

Hermione shrugged. "I would say what we are most used to and most comfortable with, but the latter part of that is not necessarily true. There are many people out there who are definitely not comfortable with their lives." She leaned back against the headboard, only inches away from him, looking out into the room. "Maybe...maybe normal is just a concept made up by the mind, something that we can say whenever we don't like how things are going, so that we can complain about it."

"Hn. Sounds about right. I'm sure there's still more to it, though. We could simply use that term so that we can try to contrast how different things are at the moment we say something isn't normal."

Hermione smiled slightly, crossing her arms over her waist. "I must say, this isn't very normal. Having a somewhat intelligent conversation with I've disliked for the past seven years. You know, I never really thought that you would talk about something like this." She turned her head to the side, looking at him in time to see him shrug.

"There aren't always people around who care enough to talk about something so seemingly trivial. That's not to say that I've been surrounded by people who only cared to talk about the most idiotic things." His eyes opened again and he turned so that he was facing her. "Pansy, for example, was someone who I could carry on a good conversation with."

Hermione frowned slightly. "Pansy? Pansy Parkison? I never would have pegged her for someone who could have anything insightful to say."

"You never took the time to get to know her, Granger. Though, she didn't try to get to know you either." Malfoy sighed, brushing a hand through his hair to push back the strands that had fallen in his face. "Of course, Slytherins and Gryffindors never took the time to get to know each other outside of the rivalries that we had. Can't say that I ever liked many of you, from what I did know--"

"And few of us liked you," Hermione pointed out. "And all those charms and curses and the such that you would use—especially during those stupid Quidditch matches—did nothing to help things."

Malfoy's eyebrows rose and he looked at her mildly. "Are you saying that Gryffindors never used curses on us?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling still. "Of course not. But I still have to say, this doesn't really feel normal. Especially because we just had that little yelling match. You know, if it were Harry or Ron who I had been arguing with like that...I'd still be fuming now. I don't know why I'm acting any differently around you."

"It's because you don't have the luxury to choose who you are around now. There's me, and there's Voldemort, and you have nowhere to run. You are trapped, Granger, and if you shut yourself off from me then there is no one at all to turn to."

Hermione blinked, looking at him. He had said it all so calmly, without any hint of cruelty or any other emotion that she would have thought would be present in his voice. "It seems you thought that out well."

Malfoy turned his grey eyes on her and she felt unnerved under them. "I have."

"That's nice to know."

Malfoy rose from his seat, extending his hand to her. "Look, I have to take you down to Lord Voldemort now. It will not do you any good to be late; as I said, he's in a particularly bad mood. There is a chance that he will kill you. Please, Granger, be careful about what you do and say when you are with him."

Hermione took his hand, letting him pull her up from the bed. His hand was dry and rough against her own, but as she found her way to her feet she realized that she didn't really want to let go. What he had said was right; he was all she had at the moment, like it or not. There was only him and Voldemort in her life at the moment, and he was the one who she preferred to be with. "Is that concern, Malfoy? For me?"

He let her hand drop before he answered. "Interpret it as you like." He retrieved his wand from his black robes, tapping her wrists. Instantly they were bound together by the chafing rope. "Now, come. Or do I have to carry you?"

"I can walk on my own," she said, following him out the door of the room. It wasn't as though she wanted to get to Voldemort any sooner...she just...every time that he had taken her down there she had been barely conscious, or she hadn't been able to tell the details about where they were walking. Today, she wanted to. She wanted to know where he was taking her, exactly, and she wanted to try to figure out a way to get out of this place. Every single little bit of information would help her. Every single bit.

The hall extended for quite a ways to either direction, and about twenty feet to the right of her room was the staircase. This descended for two stories, two stories which she had trouble descending. After all, she was still desperately weak.

Once down to the first floor, though she couldn't be sure about that, they entered another hall, torches lining it an illuminating it with orange and yellow light. Several white-masked Deatheaters passed them, brushing by her with little regard to whether they knocked her off her feet. And then...the door.

Malfoy knocked loudly, waiting for the cue to enter. When Voldemort's voice came from inside—harsher and more deadly than she had heard it before—he turned to her, his eyes narrowed, and cut the bonds from her wrists.

"Remember what I said," he said softly, then opened the door and pushed her inside.

And then...and then Hermione was alone once more with Voldemort. And she knew why Malfoy had told her to be careful.