Chapter 25

Exactly how Hermione was going to do this, she didn't know. At no point had she ever known how to deal with Draco. In fact, she didn't know what was going on at all. He didn't seek her out. Exactly what he did, she wasn't sure, because she stayed in the kitchen, which was apparently where he wanted her.

In some level, she wondered if that was some kind of message he was sending to her about her place. But not so long ago, he'd been pretty adamant she didn't have a place. It was so hard to get a grip on what he was thinking.

As usual, she sat at the kitchen table in the still and silent apartment. But now she heard footsteps, and she immediately felt her hackles rise. The door burst open, and she cringed with the violence of it. There seemed to be only two speeds to him, violence and utter stillness. They were back to violence, along with that cold look in his eyes. Then again, she wasn't sure she'd seen anything but. At least not for a really long time. Apparently, he'd made his mind up about something.

A hard grip took her arm and forced her out of the chair, his wand was out. What was this? Had he decided on torture again? But no, they apparated to somewhere she didn't recognize. His grip was still tight on her arm as he marched her across grass, up a small hill towards a statue. "Where are you taking me?"

He didn't answer, but a tin can stood at the base of the statue, and she knew instinctively it was a portkey. They were leaving, and she felt this was happening way to fast. Again she felt out of control. He had to be taking her back to England.

Fighting him didn't work, because he was stronger than her. Disturbing as it was to feel that. Before she knew it, the sickening feeling of being carried away. Much worse than apparating. Neither of which she'd done for quite a while. But she knew where they were. The Leaky Cauldron.

She snorted. This place had been her very first introduction to the magical world—a place of absolute wonder.

"You look disappointed," he said.

"On so many levels."

Finally he let go of her, and walked ahead. If she didn't keep up, the proximity charm would get her, so she had to follow. They emerged into Diagon Alley, which was different from the last time she'd seen it. The shops she'd wondered at, the ones she'd used to love were gone. Flourish and Blotts was still there, but she would no longer be welcome inside it. But there was a heaviness, a seriousness that hadn't been there when she'd been a child.

"You took something wonderful and turned it dark," she said.

"It was always dark. You were just distracted with the superficial presentation."

"Then maybe I'm disappointed that you can't manage to make something wonderful with magic. All the wonder in the world, and what do you do with it? How is it it can made you even worse human beings?"

"Because that's human nature."

"Maybe it's the Slytherin influence."

"Slytherins built this world. It was always our world."

She wanted to argue but knew it would be pointless. What would happen now? What would happen with Marcus?

Every part of her hated being back here, and not just because of her current situation, but the deep disappointment she felt that stupid people had ruined what had been a very good thing. As an eleven-year-old, walking down Diagon Allay had been magical in every sense of the word. Now she couldn't even see the wonder she'd seen back then. Maybe he was right and she simply knew better than to see innocence in this place now.

"Isn't there any part of you that wants to make a better world? Or is this it?"

Suddenly he stopped. "Shall I close your mouth for you?"

Oh, how she wished he'd just drop dead. There was no possible way she could act as his girlfriend. She plain couldn't tolerate him. Well, nothing new there.

He kept walking. Maybe there had been a time, a very short one, where she'd been slightly fascinated by him. For being the opposing, the other. The unachievable. The very point he'd plagued her with, the fact that she could never be what he was. No matter what she did, or how hard she tried, she'd never be what he was. Well, apparently, he wouldn't let her reject either.

Knockturn Alley. Wonderful. "Why are we here?"

Again he didn't answer her.

How in the world was she supposed to be annoying to him to the point where he wanted to release her instead of killing her? Damn that hope that had flared in her chest. It still burned so brightly. To live a life away from here, from all this darkness.

It was the one thing Voldemort couldn't tolerate about Harry, his brightness. Love, friendship, hope, joy. Maybe that was what she needed to be to Draco. The problem was that so much of her brightness had been stamped out. She'd survived by making herself small and invisible, where kindness had been small and hidden. Empathy didn't flare in this society.

That was all well and good, but how could she be with someone she basically couldn't tolerate?

"I miss my cat," she said. This place reminded her of when she'd bought him. Well, not here exactly.

"What?"

"I miss my cat. You never had a pet."

"I do now."

They stopped at a shop. One she didn't recognize, but she knew the feeling it gave her. Ickiness. What did he want from here? The horrid shop-keep seemed to know without them speaking, and Draco slipped something into his pocket.

Actually, everything in this place seemed seedy and unpleasant. The grip returned to her arm, and he walked her out of the shop, where he apparated them away, emerging them somewhere much more opulent. Dark beauty was the word for it. Shiny wood, thick carpets, and flowers.

"Is this your house?"

"This is my parents' house."

Malfoy Manor. She should have recognized it. Maybe it was the terror that had made it look different. Curiously, she wasn't terrorized now. Maybe she should be. Whatever vial of darkness he'd just bought should terrify her. Strangely, it didn't. Unpleasant was more how she felt. She's faced death and torture with him, so maybe there wasn't much more to fear. She feared more the revulsion of sleeping with him, rather than any fear as such.

Maybe he'd bought a love potion. Well, that would be gross, but it would also allow her to check out of this whole thing.

"Do you still live with your parents?"

A sharp look was thrown at her. "I suggest you get out of my sight," he said with warning and walked away.

Well, they were getting on swimmingly. His intentions were clear as mud.

"Miss Granger," the steely voice of Lucius Malfoy sounded. He stood in the doorway on the other side of the large grand hall. "I believe you promised to disappear and never to be seen again."

"I would have, if it wasn't for your mental son."

His mouth drew tight with displeasure. Perhaps she should be careful with her tone. "He is relentless," she finished.

Pain was creeping up on her. "He'd moving out of range," she said and started running. The severity of the pain told her which way to go. This house was massive. She had no idea where she was, or where she was going, only if she was in and out of range.

The room she ended up with had green satin on the walls and dark lacquered paneling. There was a small desk and a chaise lounge. Right here, though, she wasn't in pain, so she stayed there, fighting tears. She hated everything about this. At least the chaise lounge was soft, but this was not the place someone like her should be, or rather haunt. It felt as if she was existing utterly purposelessly.

After her moment of hopelessness had passed, she decided that she needed to find him. Her objective here was to get him to be bored with her, and that wouldn't happen if she was completely out of sight. Not that she wanted to find him. Maybe she just needed to know where he was.

How would she find him, though? The only way was to find the edges of the range and determine the center of that range.

The hallway was silent and empty. The whole house was silent and empty. No, actually, it was full of fascinating things, which she registered on some level, but right now, she didn't care.

It took some time, but she managed to narrow down the space he was in. And she knocked on the black door. This might result in torture, or worse, but again, this was about her objective.

"What?" he said when he opened the door. His jacket was off, and he looked more informal in his white shirt. Alright, there was something interesting about seeing where he grew up. This was his inner sanctum. Had this been his bedroom all his life? By the look of it, it was more like an apartment within the house, rather than just a bedroom. "I thought I told you to be out of sight."

"You need to give me a room. That's how it's done."

"What's done?"

"The room need to correspond with my status. Am I a servant or a whore? A whore's room is nicer. A servants' room is in the basement. So what am I?"

He looked stunned.

"You can't just leave me with no direction. They don't know where to put me if you don't clarify my position in the household." When all else failed, there were always rules to fall back on. "Come on, you've waited your whole life to tell me where I belong, so here's your chance."

She was unconscious before she hit the ground.