Yeah, that's right. I updated at 3 in the morning

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The next few weeks, Hermione found herself alone quite often. At first, she had enjoyed it, immensely. It had been nothing but the lovely scenery of the back end of the property which was visible through the balcony window, herself and a few books. She had been alone with her thoughts and nothing pleased her more. She wanted nothing to do with Draco and sometimes it was easy to forget where she was. When she wasn't thinking of how to best get the hell out of there, she was thinking of Ginny…and Blaise and Ron and Harry and the school.

After the week or so though, these thoughts became depressing and Hermione wanted nothing more than a distraction. She actually found herself wanting Draco's company. Of course, this was only because without him around to manipulate, she'd never get out of here. At least, this is what she told herself as she lay awake at night in that big King sized bed with nothing but her thoughts.

Some nights she had nightmares, nightmares about any and everything. Sometimes they were about Voldemort and sometimes they were about Harry. Sometimes, though, she would do nothing but cry. Her body would tremble with poorly concealed sobs and she'd cry herself to sleep, waking up the following morning with swollen eyes and a sore throat, alone in the big bed.

Here and there though, when she wasn't crying, instead of nightmares she'd have dreams, dreams that would force her awake in the middle of the night. She'd wake up panting, legs twisted into the sheets and uncomfortably aroused. She'd lie there, staring at the ceiling in confusion and confliction, insides twisted into knots. In these dreams, there was only one subject. She'd never see his face, just the reflecting light off of his pale hair or the expanse of his broad chest. Sometimes all she'd see is just his eyes, the color of storm clouds, boring into her own so intensely that it forced her awake.

These nights were the worse. These nights forced her to see what her subconscious and conscious mind both wanted. In these dreams the Battle of the Astronomy Tower never happened, those months on the run never happened. In these dreams there was no war, just purely he and her, tangled and twisted together in the throes of passion. It was always a much simpler reality, one she sometimes yearned for, and then the next morning, without fail, she would be forced to face the more complex reality that was her life. Some mornings she is relieved, glad to still be her and glad that he is still him, glad that nothing has changed. Some mornings she'd awake in anger, anger at herself for wanting such things. Hermione would call herself all sorts of names, things she'd imagine Ron would call her if he ever knew the truth.

Then some mornings, more often than she would like to admit, she'd wake up and realize that the dream wasn't real…and then she'd cry. She'd get this awful, hollow feeling in her chest that would creep up on her. It would never hit her all at once, instead drifting over her like a fog until she'd have no other choice but to wrap her arms around herself and squeeze her eyes shut. Her body would shake and tremble and then she'd cry because she wanted him, but she couldn't have him. Like a detrimental drug, she craved him, but he scared her to her very core. Every time she was in his presence, she longed to reach out and pull him closer, but every time she was in his presence, she also had an unrelenting urge to Crucio him to the high heavens.

She wanted to punish him for all of the pain that he had caused her and her friends. She wanted him to feel how she felt, wanted him to know what it was like to be at war with himself so much that he didn't know which side was winning. She wanted to slap him and curse him, make him suffer like she suffered. But there were times when she wanted to wrap her arms around him and beg for him to leave this path behind. Maybe it was stupid, but a small part of her still believed in him. She wanted to offer him anything and everything to get out of this black hole that had become his life. She wanted him to see that he couldn't have it all. He couldn't have her and this life. She wanted him to choose and she wanted him to pick her.

Hermione's eyes shot open in surprise as a rush of cold air hit her bare legs, forcing her out of unconsciousness with a jolt. She bent her knees, folding into herself as the cozy duvet was ripped away from her. She was suddenly forced into a sitting position and she immediately jerked away from the firm hands holding her. She looked at her intruder with a mix of confusion and anger. She'd been asleep, in a deep sleep too, and it was one of the few nights where she actually got a decent amount of sleep and he had ruined it.

"Get dressed. You're having breakfast with my mother in thirty minutes," was all he said as he walked towards the closet on the far side of the spacious room.

Hermione blinked as her brain took longer than usual to process the information. She was having breakfast with Narcissa Malfoy?

"What," she found herself asking.

She watched as he exited the bathroom sized closet with two dresses on his arm.

"The last time I checked, your hearing was quite good, Hermione. I'm not repeating myself."

His snippy attitude made her bristle with anger. He barged in the room and ruined what was probably going to be her only night of decent sleep in Merlin knows how long and actually had the audacity to be smart with her?

"Excuse me? I don't remember agreeing to this," she responded.

She jumped in surprise as he threw the dresses onto the bed with way more force than necessary. She swallowed as her eyes rose to meet his hardened ones, the temperature in the room taking on a chilly tone. He gazed at her with a clenched jaw and his hands on his hips, his suit jacket open and resting behind his hands, looking every bit of the Malfoy that he was. She shrank where she was sitting, suddenly very uncomfortable under his piercing stare. He simply stared at her like that for a painful amount of time before taking a deep breath and finally speaking.

"You've been in here alone for weeks with nothing but you and your thoughts and your damn books. I decided to be nice, for once, and let you adjust. I left you alone so that you would have all of the proper time you needed to come to terms with your predicament, because let's get one thing straight, Hermione…"

She took shaky breaths as he moved closer to her, his words coming out harsher and harsher by the second. She clenched her jaw as he leaned towards her, his eyes boring into her own.

"You are not leaving this place anytime soon."

She swallowed, looking away at the finality in his words.

"Do you want to know why I decided to be so gracious…? No? Well for once, I decided to listen to my mother," he snapped.

Hermione looked up at this. The irritation all over his face made it very clear that he had been reluctant to do so and was probably regretting his decision.

"She suggested that I leave you be for a while and I listened, so you can thank her for your welcomed peace these past few weeks."

She gasped in shock as he grabbed her arm, snatching her closer as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"That is why you are going to get your pert little ass out of this bed. You are going to put on one of these lovely dresses that I picked out and you are going to have breakfast with my mother. Are we clear," he hissed.

Hermione licked her lips, drawing Draco's attention to them.

"Crystal," she said through clenched teeth.

He let her go and she glared at him.

"Besides, it isn't fair for me to take my anger out on her. She's done nothing wrong. Your face is the one I want to maim every time I see it," she continued.

Draco smirked.

"Cute."

Before Hermione had time to react, she found her hair tangled around his fingers and her back flat against the bed. She took in a shaky breath as he pressed his body into hers, his lips grazing her own as he gazed into her wide eyes.

"I can think of many ways to put that smart mouth of yours to use aside from irritating the shit out of me. Keep it up, Hermione and I'll show you just how mean I can be," he purred.

He let go of her and was walking out of the door before she even had time to process what had just happened. She laid there, taking deep breaths and gathering her bearings before eventually sitting up. With a shaky sigh, she turned to look at the two dresses he'd picked out and found herself absentmindedly fingering the green one.

Hermione sat uncomfortably in her seat as the light breeze blew her hair past her face. It was surprisingly nice out and the scenery only added to that. She was in the gardens behind the mansion, a maze of hedges and flowers, reminding her of something out of Alice in Wonderland. It had always been a childhood favorite of hers and the table at which she sat only solidified her train of thought. She was sitting at a decent sized round table in the gardens, the chair she was in was quite comfortable with a plush cushion. The reason for her discomfort, however, was sitting across from her, bringing her cup of tea to her lips.

Narcissa Malfoy was the perfect picture of Pureblood aristocracy. Her blonde and black hair was pulled back away from her face, brushing her shoulders. She wore an elegant dark green dress that stopped just below the knees, the round neckline resting just beneath her collar bone. Her arms were covered with a thin matching jacket that was the same length as the dress, large black buttons lining the edge. Hermione watched as her perfectly manicured hands set down her cup and saucer, before she folded them in her lap, legs crossed at the ankles.

"Have you been enjoying your stay," the older witch asked.

Her voice was strong and controlled, demanding respect and attention.

"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy. Blaise's mother has a lovely home," Hermione answered, forcing herself not to vomit at the mention of his name.

She let out a small, airy chuckle with a wave of her hand.

"Nonsense. Call me Narcissa. It is my name after all…"

Hermione simply nodded.

"Yes, she does have an eye for design, doesn't she? How do you like your room?"

"It's nice."

It was nice. It was grand and a perfect color scheme of deep red and gold.

"Draco spent ages getting it just right for you. It was quite comical, really," Narcissa said.

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat before she briefly closed her eyes and forced it to still. It's just a room, it doesn't mean anything.

"That was very kind of him," Hermione forced out.

Narcissa made a humming noise, signaling her agreement.

"How have you been," Hermione found herself awkwardly asking.

"Quite well, thank you for asking. My husband's unexpected departure was surprisingly what I needed, I suppose. I have more time for myself and for my son. It took me by surprise to realize that we are much better off without him, but I welcomed it nonetheless."

Hermione said nothing to that. Draco is very good with altering one's memories I see.

"What have you done," Narcissa cried.

All of Hermione's thoughts went blank. Her voice caught in her throat as she entered the room. The end of the beautiful bedding was a bloody mess of handprints and the floor fared no better. Her eyes followed the blood to the barely alive form of Lucius Malfoy, his hands desperately clutching at his throat but it was no use; the blood just kept pouring out. She sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with her hand as she watched Narcissa's hunched over form trying to heal him with her wand but it wasn't working…

Hermione shook her head, forcing away the gruesome memory of Lucius Malfoy's death at the hands of his own son. Hermione gazed at Narcissa, wondering what would become of the older witch if she ever knew the truth. The sunlight reflected off the necklace hanging around Narcissa's neck, obscuring Hermione's vision for a moment, forcing her attention to the diamond. Hermione watched as she reached up to place her hand on it, catching onto Hermione's line of sight.

"It was a gift from Draco," she said, lovingly.

"It's lovely," Hermione said, honestly.

Narcissa gave a short, warm chuckle before focusing her attention onto Hermione.

"That's a beautiful dress you're wearing. It suits you," she said.

Hermione fingered the light green knee length sun dress, the thick straps connecting behind her neck and the square neckline showing a tasteful, yet respectable, amount of cleavage.

"Draco picked it out."

Narcissa gave a small smile.

"He has wonderful taste, doesn't he?"

Hermione got the feeling that they weren't talking about clothes and accessories anymore as the blonde witch eyed her. Hermione looked away, suddenly really uncomfortable.

"I'm aware of the nature of your relationship with my son…"

Hermione's eyes snapped towards the other woman, wide and confused, eyebrows furrowed. Narcissa took a sip of her tea before setting it down with a confirming nod. Hermione, surprisingly wasn't angry, instead she felt…defeated. She swallowed, blinking away the tears that had begun to spring to her eyes.

"And I suppose you aren't going to do anything about it…are you," Hermione quietly asked as she glared at her.

"Draco loves you."

Hermione scoffed, looking away and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yeah…sure," Hermione flippantly replied with a nod.

"Hermione."

Hermione immediately looked back at Narcissa at the authority within her voice. The other witch stared her down with an intense gaze that matched her son's. Now I know where he gets it.

"I know my son. Even though he may not realize it, he may even deny it, but he loves you," she said.

"With all due respect, you're wrong. That is not love. Your son isn't capable of it," Hermione responded.

"Everyone loves differently, Hermione. I didn't say that I agreed with how he handles it, but it still doesn't change the fact that it's true. His feelings for you terrify him, probably more than they terrify you. All he knows is that he doesn't want to lose you and you are probably the only thing he knows he's capable of losing. That makes him…desperate."

Hermione huffed in irritation, confused and conflicted all over again.

"Why are you telling me this," Hermione demanded.

"I do not want this life for my son, I never did. Despite everything, I see that you do care very deeply for him and that gives me…hope."

Hermione stood, scoffing in disbelief as she stared down at her.

"So what, you think that I can…change him," Hermione quietly asked.

"When it comes to Draco, I think that you can do a lot, if only you had more faith in yourself."

"I tried that once before, Narcissa and do you want to know what happened? I ended up with a knife in the back and a dead Headmaster! Draco betrayed me. I put my faith in him and was proven wrong in the most…horrible way possible. Every day I live with the fact that I am partially, if not solely, responsible for Dumbledore's death. That is something that I have to live with because of him," Hermione snarled.

"Hermione-"

"Your son…broke my heart."

She stared the older witch down as Narcissa heaved a small sigh.

"…and I can't even hate him for it," Hermione finished before turning around and walking back towards the mansion.

"My mother has been nothing but hospitable to you and this is how you thank her," he snarled as he followed her into the room.

Hermione suppressed a sigh as she kicked off the darn heels. As soon as she had stormed back into the house, she had been met with Draco's angry stare and she knew; he had seen everything. Draco slammed the door shut behind him as she turned around to face him.

"You shouldn't have been such a nosy little-"

She was cut off as he suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her against him.

"I was looking forward to the two of you getting along and wanted to see for myself. Imagine my surprise at you storming off like a spoiled brat simply because she said something that you didn't like," he hissed.

"Don't presume to assume. I surprisingly find myself quite fond of your mother actually. It was the topic of our discussion that had me in a tizzy and I'm sure you can already guess that it was you. What else would make me want to curse everything in sight," she spat.

"If that was meant to upset me then you failed. You should already know that the knowledge of the extent of my effect on you will only serve to turn me on, Hermione. So unless you plan to be on your back spread eagle for me within the next two minutes I suggest you shut your trap," he said.

Hermione used her free arm to hurl her fist at him, but he simply caught it before spinning them around and slamming her back into the wall. Hermione winced as he trailed his nose up the curve of her neck.

"Try that again. I dare you," he whispered.

She glared at him as he raised his head to smirk at her. Her gaze fell to his lips and she scolded herself for not looking away. She pressed herself into the wall as he ran his fingers up her leg, bunching the dress up around his fist when he stilled.

She watched as he closed his eyes and heaved a very long, irritated sigh before pulling away. She breathed a sigh of relief as he backed away, fists clenched beside him.

"It seems that I have business to attend to. Consider yourself lucky," he said as he grabbed his jacket.

Hermione knew what that meant and she found herself both relieved and scared. At this rate, her heart was literally going to rip itself in two. She said nothing as he brushed past her before exiting the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

She huffed as she sat on the bed, disappointed and angry with herself for not pushing him away earlier. You're letting him get to you. She clenched her jaw at that thought. It was true, she was slowly, but surely crumbling and that was dangerous. She had enjoyed the feel of his body against hers and she had wanted his hand to continue its journey, wanted him to erase the memory of her first time and replace it with something she knew only he could give her.

He had been gone for the rest of the day and the sun had long gone down. She found that she couldn't fight the worry she had begun to feel at his prolonged absence. She couldn't help it and at this, she shook her head. He was getting to her, this place was getting to her. Without her friends here she was losing that constant reminder as to why it could never be and that wasn't good. She glanced at the door before sprinting to the closet, mind made up, and immediately stripping and throwing on the most casual thing she could find. She spun around the room, looking for something, anything before her eyes landed on the desk in the dark corner.

She rifled through the drawer, a sinking feeling in her gut before her fingers finally touched something cold and metal. She closed them around the letter opener with glee before glancing at the balcony. She'd be stupid to even try. Even if she did fashion a rope made of sheets, it would take too long and someone would surely spot her before she even made it down. She turned her gaze to the door with determination before marching out of the room.

The wing was dark and quiet, no sign of life anywhere and Hermione took slow, quiet steps through the halls. She had paid extra attention on the way down to meet Narcissa and back. She had memorized the layout and soon found herself at the top of the stairs. She could hear voices carrying from the foyer, on the other side of the kitchen and she was careful to slowly take the steps two at a time. The back door was past the dining area and she maneuvered around the table with ease.

She forced her heart to still upon finding the door locked. She took a deep breath before looking over her shoulder and back. Wandless magic wasn't her strong suit, something that had always greatly embarrassed her, but she could do a select few spells. She took another deep breath before focusing on the door knob. She had to get out of here, she had to try.

"Alohomora," she whispered so quietly that it almost felt as if she simply mouthed it.

She sighed in relief as it unlocked with a soft click and she immediately tuned into the voices that could still be heard. Satisfied with the fact that they were none the wiser, she slipped out of the back door, closing it without a sound. With letter opener clutched tightly in her hand, she printed away from the mansion. Her best bet would be to run towards the front of the property and that was what she did. She wasn't sure how secluded it was, but if the rumors of Mrs. Zabini were true, then Hermione knew that she would never have a mansion that was too far away from any sort of potential suitors.

The tree limbs swiped at Hermione and tugged at her hair as if they were trying to pull her back, but she paid them no mind. She wasn't exactly sure how long she had been running or even how far. She just knew that she couldn't stop. Hermione was afraid of what going back to that mansion meant. Her best friend had been dragged there and was now more than happy to stay. She had lost Ginny and Hermione couldn't lose herself too and that was exactly what was going to happen if she didn't get out.

Her conversation with Narcissa Malfoy played on repeat in her head. Hermione couldn't let herself be fooled into believing that Draco actually loved her because if she did then she was done for. She would be just like his mum and believe that there was still hope when the truth was that there was very little hope left.

She suddenly stopped as some leaves rustled behind her. She looked over her shoulder, staring into the shadows that were created from the full moon hanging above her. Her fingers tightened around the letter opener as she gazed into the darkness, desperately hoping that it was just some animal. She listened for a few more seconds and sighed upon hearing nothing else. She spun around and immediately gasped, stumbling back.

Draco leaned against the large tree, one leg crossed in front of the other as his hair hung over his forehead, the moonlight emphasizing its fair color. He heaved a rather long saddened sigh as he stroked his wand.

"I must say…I'm kind of disappointed in you."

Hermione took a step back.

"I never had any business to attend to. This was simply a test and…well, you failed," he said, lifting his head.

She swallowed.

"…or passed, depending on how you look at it, really. Seeing as I expected this I guess that means you passed."

He pushed away from the tree, walking towards her.

"But I prefer to look at it as a fail. How does that feel, to actually fail at something, Hermione," he asked.

She didn't respond, simply glared at him. She jerked away as he reached for her.

"Let's not be dumb," he said in exasperation as he reached for her again with a chuckle.

He pulled his hand away as she swiped at him, his somber expression immediately transforming to one of absolute glee as his eyes landed on the letter opener. His gaze settled on her, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"Oh?"

"You want to take me back to that mansion, then you better be prepared to drag me back," she said through clenched teeth, holding the letter opener out in front of her.

Draco licked his lips before spreading his arms out and leaning over to set his wand down onto the forest floor.

"Let's make this a fair fight, shall we," he proposed with a smirk.

She took another step back as he walked towards her.

"Come on. Aren't you going to slice me? Sock me in the nose again," he questioned with a laugh.

She never took her eyes off of him as she raised the letter opener.

"Come on, I'm giving you a free shot," he said as he unbuttoned his jacket, teeth barred and face suddenly twisted in anger.

He yanked his arms out of the sleeves before throwing it onto the ground with a loud thud, dirt flying around his feet.

"…and you better make it count, baby."

When he calls you baby #justgirlythings

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