Hermione's heart pounded wildly within the confines of her chest as she felt herself being pulled along quickly by the crushing hand of Malfoy. He darted in and out of the shadows, between the trunks and limbs of ancient, moss-covered oaks, hardly making a sound on the carpet of drenched leaves as he made his way through this strange and unfamiliar forest.

Hermione's lips still burned from his kiss. Despite the danger of their current situation, trying to make it out of this forest without being killed by Death Eaters, she couldn't make it ten seconds without flashing back to that moment in time.

She had been overcome with panic after the masked Death Eater had knocked her to the ground not with a spell, but by a blow to the side of the head, and then tied her up at the base of a tree. She had been set out as bait for Harry, and realized it immediately upon regaining consciousness. The overwhelming thought of that, mixed with the pain in her head, had pushed her over the edge. She had panicked, overcome with a feeling of dread so consuming that she couldn't even think reasonably or see straight. All she could think was, please don't let Harry come, please, please, let him stay away from here, don't let him find me, don't let them take him. And then Malfoy had arrived, along with the strange, pale man in dark clothing. Hermione realized in a split second, as the Death Eater emerged from behind Malfoy, that she was not only bait for Harry, but bait for Malfoy.

But Malfoy had turned at the pale man's warning, and loosed his wand upon the approaching villain. She felt a fleeting moment of relief as the Death Eater sank to the ground.

But even after that immediate danger had passed, Hermione's mind was still in tumult. Harry was gone. The pale man had him. He was taking Harry away from the Order, away from safety. The next few minutes were extremely blurry in her memory afterwards, but she remembered struggling bitterly against Malfoy as he pulled her into a strange place, trying to escape him so she could find Harry. And then—

She felt a pair of lips on her lips, pressing sanity into her. As if a light switch had been flipped on, she immediately became aware of the sensations surrounding her—a glowing light permeating from the walls of this damp shelter; the chill of the evening air; the wet coldness of her clothes clinging to her body; the dull ache of her head where she had been struck; the hands that gripped her shoulders firmly and held her in place against a warm, solid body; the mouth that covered hers and wouldn't relent. She was being kissed, a small sector of her mind told her. It was such a strange realization.

Then the lips and the hands and the body retracted, letting the cold air rush in around her. She felt shocked as she looked up at the wide-eyed, gasping face of Malfoy. Shocked and cold and—

And then he was back, faster than her eye could detect, locking his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. The next few minutes melted into each other, and all she could remember afterwards was the warmth, and the closeness, and the desire that welled up inside her chest as his lips sought hers again and again with a hunger she never knew existed within him.

She had never been kissed like that before, not once in her seventeen years. The feelings that accompanied it shocked and overwhelmed her. Because, truth be told…there was no other feeling in her memory that could eclipse that of being kissed by Draco Malfoy.

She only hoped he didn't know that.

Hermione snapped out of this latest reverie when Malfoy, halting suddenly in mid-stride, pulled her roughly, though soundlessly, behind a thick cluster of bushy trees. There he knelt, pulled her down to the leafy ground beside him, and turned his head to the side. He seemed to have heard something.

Hermione watched him intently as he listened. His brow was creased in concentration, his eyes focused on the ground in front of him. The closeness of him as he knelt there beside her, their shoulders touching, her hand clasped within his, sent a shiver through her. Her whole body was tensed as she waited for whatever it was he seemed to be anticipating. Two or three minutes passed in complete silence, not even the birds of the forest daring to disturb the heavy silence as Malfoy listened. But Hermione's knees began to hurt from crouching, and her head was throbbing painfully, making her dizzy. She felt so weak, like she might collapse at any moment.

She whispered, "Malfoy—"

And before he could put a hand over her mouth, before he could even shoot a warning glance at her, the attack came.

The red dart of light shot through the leaves of the low, bushy cluster of trees in front of them and between their heads, narrowly missing both of them. In almost the same instant, Malfoy yanked her back to her feet and began pulling her swiftly behind him as he dodged wildly in and out of the trees, jumping over fallen logs and low brush, pushing through tangled branches, trying desperately to escape the barrage of spells that shot ceaselessly behind them.

The only real defense they had in this situation was speed. All they could do was try to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the Death Eaters.

Draco held on tightly to Granger's hand as he crashed through the forest. Silence would help them no longer. All they could do was run, and run fast. He could tell she was wearing down; they had been running nonstop for at least five minutes now. His anger, though, at her chosen moment to speak up, snuffed out any sympathy he may have momentarily kindled for her. If she had kept her mouth shut back there, the Death Eaters might have just moved on and searched elsewhere. They wouldn't be involved in this high-speed chase right now.

The landscape became rocky and pitted, though still thick with ancient tree growth. They had to move more carefully now while still keeping up pace. He could still feel the spells whizzing past them. It was a miracle neither of them had been hit.

Granger was weakening rapidly. Their pace slowed despite his efforts to keep her moving. A feeling of dread invaded his chest as he realized they might be caught; this might end tragically.

But as suddenly as that feeling entered his chest, it was pushed aside by another. It was a strange, almost tingling feeling that seemed to begin leading his path, telling him which way to go. He couldn't explain it to himself and didn't have time to anyway. But he was no longer leading blindly. Suddenly, he could feel whether to turn right or left, whether to climb up the hill or down the slope, whether to enter this thick patch of trees or take the clearing. He knew. This feeling guided him steadily until the bright jets of light behind them began to thin in number and fail in aim. And when they heard the very last one hit some random point deep in the forest some ways to the left, and they came out of a particularly dark, thickly wooded area and down a rocky slope—

Outlined by the dim light of the moon, there stood the mouth of a cave, nestled snuggly in the hillside, camouflaged by dense foliage, visible only from the angle at which they now stood. They both stopped abruptly at the sight. Thinking only a moment, Draco strode up to it, pulling Granger along behind him. He had to duck his head to enter, but she did not. He began to lead her into the darkness. As they walked further and further inside, the tunnel of the cave grew wider and taller, and instead of darkening, it became illuminated with the same strange glow of the tree from earlier. The rocky walls seemed to shine with light.

When Draco felt they were far enough inside, he stopped and dropped Granger's hand, turning on her suddenly. His anger had not dissipated, not even slightly.

"When you're running from Death Eaters," he said venomously, moving towards her, "and they could be anywhere at any time, and you're with someone who actually happens to know what he's doing, and he stops and hides you and tells you to shut up…you don't speak."He was upon her now, speaking in low, harsh tones meant to hurt, edging closer and closer into her space, as she backed up towards the wall. "Unless, of course, you're an idiot girl, or you have a death wish, or you completely lack all common sense."

As he flung these words at her, moving in closer like a snake about to strike, he saw her waver on her feet. Her eyelids fluttered closed and then opened, and she brought a shaking hand up to her head.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, his anger still saturating his tone.

She brought her eyes up to meet his, and they were filled with pain, physical pain, and then she brought her hand down from her head, took one look at the red liquid staining her fingers—and slumped into him.

He caught her around the waist before she could sink to the ground. Her hands clung to the fabric of his shirt.

"What the hell?" he said, holding her tightly to him.

She lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him with dizzy eyes.

"I think…I think I need to lie down," she said faintly.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked again, not letting her go.

"My head…" she said weakly, pressing her forehead against his chest and closing her eyes.

He looked down at the floor—it was too jagged to let her lie here. After just a moment of thought, he bent down, slid his left arm behind her knees, and lifted her into his arms like a child. She moaned slightly and reopened her eyes as he began carrying her further into the cave.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes focused on his face.

He didn't answer her, but kept walking, surveying the cave floor with his eyes. When he found a flat, relatively smooth area of rock, he knelt down and lowered her body carefully onto it.

She still had her hands entwined in his shirt, and so he had to bend over her, resting on his knees. Their faces were very close, and he was all too aware of the location of her lips in respect to his. His anger had subsided without him even realizing it. As he knelt there over her, she searched his eyes with her half-lidded ones, for what he did not know. He only knew that he couldn't pull himself away from her.

"What happened to your head?" he asked after a moment.

She closed her eyes at that, as if remembering. She took her right hand from his shirt and brought it up to tentatively touch the right side of her head just above the ear. He reached down a hand and pushed the wet curls back from her scalp. There was a shallow gash there, bleeding slowly.

"How did that happen?" he asked, scrutinizing the wound.

"One of the Death Eaters knocked me out with something," she said. "I didn't see what it was."

He felt a searing anger fill the pit of his stomach.

"Sounds like something they would do," he said. Hypocrisy, perhaps? As he used to be one? He didn't care. He felt only scorn and disgust for their actions now.

She didn't respond, only closed her eyes. He thought she had fallen asleep. He went to stand—but her hand still gripped his shirt. She opened her eyes and shook her head almost imperceptibly at him.

"What," he said.

She released a small sigh and closed her eyes again. He once again thought she was asleep until she said quietly, "I'm cold."

Indeed, she was shivering. His eyes ran up and down her small form.

"You already have my robes," he said.

She didn't respond. But she also didn't release her grip.

What does she want from me? he thought.

Of all the times to be thick, thought Hermione.

She was freezing. Her head was throbbing with pain. The world spun when she opened her eyes and she felt like she might pass out at any second. Everything was pain and dizziness and fear. She was scared to be here, in this place she did not know, in a cave hidden in a forest, with a boy who might abandon her at any moment, being chased by horrible men who wanted her dead.

All she wanted right now was to be comforted, and to be warm, and to go to sleep. She wanted Malfoy to hold her so she could go to sleep without fearing that she would never wake up again. The pain in her head shadowed almost all traces of pride and dignity within her. She didn't care about anything, except being held. And if it didn't happen soon…well, she could already feel the burn of salt tears beneath her eyes. She couldn't just come out and say it, though. Desperate as she was for comfort, she wouldn't sink to asking him to hold her. She was still Hermione Granger and no amount of pain could bring her to that level.

She felt his presence over her, the warmth of his chest under his shirt. Why couldn't he just understand her meaning? Why couldn't he just lie down with her? He seemed to just be sitting there, waiting for an explanation.

The first hot tear slipped out the corner of her closed eye and ran down her cheek. She didn't want him to see her cry. She released his shirt and turned over on her side away from him as more tears slid from her eyes. The movement caused even more pain in her head. It was like a sharp drumbeat that would not cease, blurring all her thoughts and pushing reason aside.

She heard Malfoy stand and walk away. The sound of it was sorrow in her ears. She felt herself shaking with sobs now, shaking with pain. And then frustration. Anger. Draco Malfoy was cruel and heartless and he didn't understand kindness or feelings. All these days she had taken care of him and watched over him, setting her own wants and needs aside to make sure he didn't die. She had actually cared about his well-being. She had actually tried. And now, here she was, in need of him, and all he had to do was hold her, not make her difficult potions or heal her wounds. All he had to was comfort her. Such a small task compared to hers, such a—

So wrapped up in these thoughts and her pain was Hermione that she didn't even hear his footsteps returning. She snapped out of her mental tirade only when she felt the arm go around her waist, and the other arm slip under her neck, and the warm body press against her back. She felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs, so powerful was this gesture.

Her pulse raced; she could feel her heart pounding against her ribs. To be so close to him—it almost cancelled out the throbbing pain in her head. She was consumed with his mere presence. She couldn't see him, but she could feel him, his warmth, his heartbeat, his breathing. She could smell the scent of him, and it was like a drug. Her mind grew fuzzier, her thoughts fainter and more disjointed. She felt the tension go out of her muscles as she relaxed against him. All negative thoughts relating to him were but ghosts now. She could not recall a one of them. She wanted to say something, to thank him in some way for not being horrible .

"I…" she began very softly.

"Shut up, Granger," he said lowly next to her ear. She felt his arm pull her even closer to his body.

She fell asleep with the corners of her mouth tilted up in a slight smile.

Okay. So he had kissed her. And now he was holding her in his arms while she slept. It was somewhat difficult for Draco to wrap his mind around these facts.

So what'd you do today, Draco?

Oh, you know…got transported to a strange forest where Death Eaters chased me around…met a weird guy who can disappear into thin air without using a wand…kissed Hermione Granger inside a tree—

WHAT!

Yep. Kissed her inside of a tree. And not just any tree: a glowing tree. Oh and then we got chased by some more Death Eaters. Then some sort of magical force took over my body and led me through the forest to safety. And then we found a cave. A glowing cave, of course. And…now I'm just laying here…holding her…in the cave…yeah…

Draco's thoughts wandered off into this imaginary conversation. He was in that half-awake, half-asleep phase that comes just before unconsciousness. This day had been a strange one indeed. (And coming from Draco Malfoy, that's saying something.) He wondered just where he was, exactly, and if he would get away from here safely. He wondered if the Death Eaters were still around. He wondered just what would happen next.

But mostly, he wondered why the hell he couldn't control himself around Granger. The question haunted him and lingered in his thoughts even as he tried to push it away. It kept screaming itself at him, reverberating inside his skull.

Why are you holding her so tightly? Why couldn't you have remained strong as you walked away from her? Why couldn't you just stay away? You made it about one minute into the cave before the thought of her lying on the cold floor in pain, alone, crying, overwhelmed you. You turned back and laid down beside her and now you're holding onto her like she's the only thing keeping you from flying off the earth's surface. What is it about her, this annoying little Gryffindor mudblood? Why couldn't you stop yourself from kissing her? Why are you dragging her through the forest at the risk of your own life, trying to protect her?

I DON'T KNOW! he screamed back at the voice.

He didn't know why he did these things. He didn't know what it was about her that made him act this way. He just. Didn't. Know. He couldn't explain it to himself or justify it, this pull she had on him. There was just this feeling around her, a straining gravity, a taut string that had woven itself between them over the preceding days and finally snapped inside of the tree. And yet…it hadn't snapped. It was still there, welding his body protectively against hers as she slept. She was just…

He cut off the thought. He didn't want to think about what she was and wasn't. He didn't want to think about her at all. It was enough that he couldn't control his body around her. He wouldn't let his mind be struck down with this illness also.

Soon after this thought, he was taken by sleep. It was a hazy, light sleep dotted by half-dreams and random images. He woke up several times during the first two hours, often with a start. He found Granger sleeping soundly each time. After those first couple of hours, his mind began drifting into deeper sleep.

He was back in the chamber. The dark, round room lit sparsely by dim torches mounted on moist walls. The floor was cold, jagged stone. He felt the cold metal of the shackles restraining his ankles and wrists. He heard the chains shake and rattle as he struggled against his bonds. The cold, stone wall was to his back. And before him—evil.

The Dark Lord stood at the center of the round chamber, scanning his snake eyes across his three captives. Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco Malfoy, chained to the wall in a row.

Draco looked over at his mother, whose forehead was bleeding above the eye. She held her chin upwards; her jaw was set tightly. But he could see how she weakened. How her knees shook from the strain of standing upright so long.

His father began to plead, "My lord, we have been loyal—"

"You have failed," said the Dark Lord, cutting him off.

"But Dumbledore is dead," said Lucius.

"Killed by Severus," said the Dark Lord, taking a step towards Draco. "Not by this one. You recall the deal we made. I don't believe Severus was mentioned."

"Draco was incapacitated—"

"Draco failed. He is weak."

"Spare his life," pleaded Narcissa, her voice wavering. "I beg of you—"

"Oh, I will not kill him," said the Dark Lord. "He deserves a far worse fate than that. Death would be a blessing."

Torture, thought Draco. He's going to torture me.

"Draco will live a long life. He will stay here and follow me loyally for the rest of his years. He will rise amongst the ranks of my followers and perhaps become important. Perhaps become strong. But…he will live the rest of his life knowing that he killed the parents who loved him. He will be haunted by the memory of the screams of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

Just as the Dark Lord lifted his wand—the scene shifted. His parents were no longer in the room. In their place: a small, curly-haired, Gryffindor girl dressed in Hogwart's robes.

Hermione Granger.

She looked at Draco with fearful, piercing eyes.

"Malfoy!" she cried.

The Dark Lord laughed.

"You think he can save you?" he asked. He raised his wand and yelled, "CRUCIO!"

She screamed in a way that made Draco's insides freeze over. Her body twisted against her restraints, her face contorted in pain.

"NO!" cried Draco. "Stop!"

He couldn't free himself. He struggled violently against the shackles, the metal bands cutting into his flesh.

"Malfoy!" she called to him through her screams. "Malfoy! Malfoy!"

"Malfoy," said a soft voice next to his ear.

He jerked awake and looked around wildly for a moment, not recognizing his surroundings. He thought himself still in the chamber. Where was Granger?

But he looked down and she was right there next to him, pressed tightly against his body. Held there by his own arms. She was staring at him with a puzzled expression.

He felt a strange physical awareness in that moment, as their eyes locked and the fuzziness of sleep dropped away from his brain. He felt the burn of air in his lungs as he struggled for breath, the cold perspiration on his flushed skin, the rapid pounding of his heart against his chest. Against her chest. She was right there, so close. Her screams still echoed in his mind. But her mouth wasn't screaming now. It was silent. And so close to his own.

Every unwanted feeling from the past week came back to him. Every repressed desire swelled to the surface and galvanized him. She coursed through his veins like fire.

He descended on her like the bull charging the matador, her lips the red cape. Her eyes popped open in surprise even as his closed tightly. He heard some sort of gasp die in her throat as he rolled her onto her back under him. He supported his weight on his knees on either side of her hips, kissing her deeply from above, his hands flat on the floor above her head. This new position came in one fluid motion, and he was on top of her before she even had a chance to react. He had assumed, based on their earlier kiss, that she was all in favor of making out with him.

This is why the stinging slap across his cheek startled him so much.

One second Malfoy had been yelling in his sleep, obviously suffering some horrible nightmare, and the next he had just—attacked her. It happened so quickly and startled her so much that her brain actually shut down momentarily. And when it started back up again, and she realized she was being kissed almost savagely, without her consent, her first thought, from the depth of her haughty little Gryffindor heart, was:

How dare he!

She hauled back her hand and slapped him across the cheek. A far cry from her actions inside the tree only hours before, but…well, that was completely different.

He broke the kiss immediately, his eyes flying open. He stared down at her, his chest still rising and falling against hers, his face flushed and questioning. She stared back at him, almost wondering for a split second if slapping him had been necessary. She pushed the thought away.

"Get off," she said in a voice that sounded strange to her ears.

She saw his jaw clench and his eyes harden over, hiding whatever feeling had been in them. Then, without a word, he stood, turned away from her, and began walking in the direction of the cave entrance. She watched him go, his form highlighted by the glow from the walls. Then the tunnel curved, and he was out of sight.

She sat up weakly. Her mind was reeling. She unconsciously raised a hand to touch her lips as she thought over what had just happened. He had kissed her again. She had slapped him. Now he was leaving. And she alone.

The thought didn't fully register at first. And then she realized: she was going to be all alone in this strange place with no one to protect her. Actually…alone.

Her pulse quickened. This was not good.

A/N: Speedier update. Hope you enjoyed it! Tell me what you thought, my wonderfully loyal, ever-reviewing, Loyal Band of Reviewers. My love burns for you with the fire of a thousand suns.