Safely back in her rooms, Hermione shut the door softly and leaned heavily against it for a few moments, breathing rapidly and waiting out her adrenaline. Once her heartbeat began to slow, she closed her eyes and re-pictured the man she had seen stumbling through the hall. It must have been Lucius. Who else could it have been? And Draco did say that his father had been Kissed, not that he had been killed. Hermione felt an unwelcome stab of pity in her once icy heart and frowned. She should not feel anything for that man. He was cruel and heartless and had pushed his family through the first war, only to barely make it back out alive. Then as soon as the opportunity arose, he was back into the same predicament, only this time he had dragged Draco into it and- when did he become Draco? Hermione's inner voice whispered, interrupting her thoughts.

Hermione scowled to herself and a frustrated growl came from her chest. Really? Is that the most important thing about this scenario?

In the past few years, that inner voice which had always driven her to perfection (mostly to shut the stupid voice up) had become a serious problem. Her previous therapist had initially worried she was delusional (even when Hermione hadn't mentioned the magical side of herself) until she had explained that she was certainly aware that the voice was her own, and it was the same part of herself that she used to solve problems and identify flaws in logic, only mercilessly pointed at herself. The therapist had nodded and explained it was likely a form of her anxiety and suggested that Hermione counter its arguments with her own. It hadn't helped. But it was just habit, sometimes.

That reminder of the stupid muggle therapist reminded Hermione to sit down at the table and write out what she had seen and experienced since going down the hall. It might help her to remember details when she tried to figure out who the man was later.

A loud crash startled Hermione out of the calm writing twenty minutes later. Malfoy was at the entrance to her rooms, looking around the room half crazed. His cheeks were red from what appeared to be exercise if his rapid breathing was any indication. He'd buttoned his shirt- thankfully- but Hermione noticed that he'd missed at least one button, making her suspect he had buttoned it while running. He saw her and said all in a rush, "Heredrinkthistheresnotimetoexplain!" and shoved a cup of what was likely Polyjuice potion into her hands. At her slight hesitation, Malfoy whispered "Now!" and she drank it. Within seconds, her limbs elongated and her hair straightened. Draco produced glasses from a pocket at the same moment that Hermione squinted because she couldn't see clearly. "Stay here. If the gods are good you won't see anyone and everything will be fine. Drink again every half hour until I return. Your name is Elaine. Elaine. Understand? You're my employee."

She nodded and he left in as much of a rush as he'd arrived.

Hermione breathed deeply, willing her racing heart to slow. She couldn't have a panic attack right then. She tried to focus on who Draco was having come to the house. Who she needed to hide from. What this meant for her safety. Did this change her plans? Should she try to send off a message to Ron? Did it have to do with the man Hermione had seen? Did Draco even know she had been out of her rooms?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She was supposed to be 'Elaine' so she focused as much of her mental energy into conforming to a role as she could. All of these questions and considerations couldn't be addressed until she had more information. She breathed out slowly. If she was polyjuiced, then she was safe for the moment. Draco had taken the the steps necessary to make sure she was not discovered. She opened her eyes again and felt relatively calm.

She closed the book in front of her. Another deep steadying breath later, she looked down at her clothes. If she were meant to be Malfoy's employee she would need to change.

For one thing, the clothes were now tight around her shoulders and too short, and for another, an employee of a high ranking Death Eater would probably not wear muggle clothing. So Hermione stood and went to the closet, feeling off balance in her now longer limbs. She had to toe off her shoes within two steps, since 'Elaine's' toes were being pinched. She decided that 'Elaine' must be a more elegant woman than Hermione was, so she tried her best to remember to stand straight and walk softly as she had been taught when she was a child.

Two hours passed with Hermione anxiously straining to listen for footsteps coming down the hall or voices or anything but she suspected that Draco had put a silencing spell on her room just in case.

Luckily, the robes in her closet had been charmed to fit whomever wore them, so the luxurious robe of fine tan silk flowed over the tall frame of 'Elaine' as well as it would have fit Hermione's more petite form. Even the lingerie provided for her had done the same.

Hermione was very concerned that someone would come, not only because she didn't know what 'Elaine's' job was supposed to be, but more importantly because she only had her own wand with its trace on it, so if she needed to use magic, she would immediately be found out.

Time passed with Hermione trying to fend off the impending panic attack by every means she had at her disposal. Picking up her journal, unable to write because her thoughts were too chaotic. Trying to read. Drumming her fingers on the table. Going to the mirror and playing with long straight hair she'd always dreamed of, laughing at herself shakily when she realized she already missed her own hair. Counting her breaths. Making up potions in her head.

She had been pacing to rid herself of the shaking in her limbs when a knock sounded on the door again.

With her heart in her throat, she went to the door and opened it to reveal Draco Malfoy, looking his normal proper self, but tired.

He gave her a wan smile in greeting. "Granger. Can I come in?"

Hermione poked her head out and looked to either side of the door, feeling ridiculous. "Don't worry," Draco said relaxing slightly, "He's gone. I only had you disguised on the off chance that anything might have happened. He was here… to see to a patient." Draco sighed and gave her that wan smile again.

Hermione scrutinized his face for a brief moment, looking for any hint of deception and when she didn't find any, she opened the door and nodded.

Draco passed her, called out for tea, and held the chair Hermione had been occupying for her to sit in. With a bare hesitation, Hermione sat and poured the tea, expecting he was about to explain what was going on.

"I had intended to come speak to you earlier this evening, but time had gotten the best of me before this… incident came up." Draco began as he took the cup from her. He added his sugar while he debated what he ought to tell her about the Healer who had just come as well as the whole mess that had happened with his aunt and her former friend's body just this afternoon. When the whole mess was just too much for him to figure out he instead asked, "Have you had dinner yet?"

Hermione blinked, "What?"

"Dinner. Generally the last meal one eats in a day? I'm quite certain you're familiar with it, given it was a part of our school day."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "No, as it happens, I was instructed to drink polyjuice with no context and, you know, spent the last hour panicking and sort of forgot that food was even necessary for my existence to continue. Will you please just tell me what's going on?" She immediately regretted using the word panic, but he seemed to have missed it.

"Floppy," Draco called instead of answering her.

The little elf appeared, "Master?"

"Dinner in ten. Dining hall."

Floppy nodded, answered, "Yes sir," And popped out of the room.

"How long until your dose wears off? I don't trust this face," Draco said with a gesture at Hermione's- well 'Elaine's'- face.

Hermione snorted. "It's the one you gave me you ponce." She glanced at the clock and then said, "About a minute or so."

"Good. 'Elaine' will have to be your disguise if anything like this happens again. I've enough polyjuice prepared for it to be effective I believe."

"Nothing like this was expected." Hermione answered. "Should it be expected in the future?"

"No," Draco answered. He looked away suddenly with a grimace. "It's repulsive watching you change back."

Hermione reached up and felt her once long silky black hair beginning to curl and turn its normal boring brown again. She looked at her hand and saw the color of her skin changing back to its normal color too. She took off the glasses, only remembering them when her head started to hurt. Once she had shrunk back to her normal height, the clothes seemed to shrink around her suddenly to the correct size. "You're such a ponce," she said.

He looked back at her with a quip on the tip of his tongue and the momentary hesitation was unexpected and confusing. He'd forgotten the unsettled feeling that looking at her brought to him. He cleared his throat instead of insulting her back. "That color is quite becoming on you." He heard himself blurt out and instead of allowing her the chance to sputter a response while he blushed and berated himself for speaking at all, he stood and offered a hand, "Dinner, Granger. We have things to discuss."

Another hesitation, then she took his hand, but a million questions were clamoring for her attention. What the hell was with him?! was probably the biggest one which her mind was screaming. She stopped before leaving the room and pulled out her wand from a cleverly disguised pocket in her robes.

Before Draco could analyze the strange feeling of missing her hand, he turned to find a wand pointing at his face. Looking to the owner of said wand, he saw Hermione squinting suspiciously at him. Then, she demanded, "What is this? Are you Imperioed? Are you polyjuiced? Give me your safeword!"

"Willow bark, Granger." He answered calmly.

She lowered her wand and looked at him closely. "What the hell is with you?"

He sighed and flexed his hand in irritation. The hand which had been broken not long before she came to stay with him. "I'm tired Granger. I've not slept in nearly two days. Things are happening. I don't think I can play this 'Who's the smartest ant in the hill' game. Can we please just go eat then I can tell you this insanity and then we can go our separate ways again?"

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, and stowed her wand back. "Should we have Ron come? So he can bring the information back to the Order?"

Draco gestured for them to start to walk. He answered, "Not yet. I don't know what this will change. Let's discuss it and then you can make the report if you need to. I don't want to deal with Weasel anymore than necessary."

Hermione rolled her eyes and started down the stairs ahead of him. At the first landing, she looked carefully around in case of an intruder, even after having heard his safeword. She still didn't trust him.

Draco saw her doing so, and rolled his own eyes in an unconscious mimic of her expression. She led the way down to the first floor and they walked silently to the dining room, where Floppy had laid out an option of beef cutlets in brown gravy or an already carved chicken smothered in mushrooms and a buttery cream sauce which smelled of heaven. Hermione and Draco both went for the chicken and shared a brief awkward glance of acknowledgement when their serving forks collided on the platter when they reached for the same piece. Draco, being the gentleman he was born to be, chose another piece and left the thigh for the lady and guest.

They were both ravenous and they ate in an awkward silence for a time. Draco finally broke the quiet sounds of their forks and knives on the china by saying, "I see it began to snow this evening."

Hermione swallowed and answered, "Yes, It's quite lovely. I had found a small window seat near my rooms and I was watching it snow."

A small fleeting smile crossed Draco's face when he pictured her curled up in the window seat she referred to and watching it snow. Thankfully she had not been looking at him. He didn't know what to say. Small talk was never really his strong suit. "Had it snowed… er.. where you were before?"

Hermione glanced at his face again, understanding that he was trying to make civil conversation. Probably that meant that he had something unpleasant to tell her, or his infernal hyperpoliteness had decreed they couldn't discuss anything serious over dinner. Great. "Yes," She answered. "It had snowed the first night I came here."

"I see," He answered. Then that awkward silence settled over the table again as Hermione bit into a roasted carrot. Draco tried his best not to analyze her behavior. He knew she would be put off her meal by some details of the story, and he knew enough about her to know it would be a mistake to spare her the details to save her appetite. "What were you reading?" He asked, finally.

She glanced at him. He was avoiding her gaze. It seemed at odds with his ingrained politeness. Shouldn't he be feigning interest? "I found an old copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard the other day, and I was working my way through them as a way to unwind."

He glanced up at the name of the book, looking immediately into her eyes and regretting it at once. He felt like she read his entire consciousness in one glance. The book was his own, and a favorite of his childhood. He had fond memories of his mother, lit in early afternoon sunlight, the rays of the sun picking up a thousand hidden shades of blonde in her hair, reading to him before his nap. He felt the memories as though they were a physical weight in his mind. He had no idea how sad and alone he looked, even with a ghost of a smile as the memories all rushed through him.

Hermione saw, and it made her wonder.

"This chicken is quite good," She said. It was difficult for her to change the subject but something about the expression on his face was like walking in on him naked. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing for both of them. Mostly it was uncomfortable to see because it made her rethink him in a way that bordered dangerously on attractive. Just because he has emotions doesn't make him interesting, She reminded herself.

"Quite," He answered, glad for the respite. He didn't want to think on any of this. He didn't want to be weak from a lack of sleep. He didn't want her to see him in any kind of a weakened state. She shouldn't know he was remotely vulnerable. "The mushrooms were a nice touch I think."

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Finally, Draco asked if she was finished eating, and if she would like to go to the sitting room to discuss things. Finally, Hermione thought.

When they entered the room, Hermione mentally shook herself. She needed answers and she needed them now. How she let him get away with the whole meal without saying anything was still a mystery, but she didn't intend to go any longer without knowing what was going on. "Now," She began as he poured himself a whiskey from the cart near the large fireplace dominating the room. "Tell me what happened."

Draco sighed dramatically while picking the decanter back up and measuring out a third finger of whiskey. "He knows you're 'dead'." He began, turning and putting his hand in his pocket as he spoke.

Hermione had just been taking her seat when Draco said this and she immediately sat forward. "How do you know? What was his reaction? Did there seem to be any-"

Draco held out a hand. "Wait. Let me explain." He slipped his hand back into his pocket and leaned against the mantel. She bit her lip and waited instead of responding. He wanted to flat out explain where he had been and why Voldemort was there and all of it, but heat flared in his chest and his tongue felt leaden. Draco let out a frustrated growl, "By the gods, I wish I could just plainly speak!" He sighed again. "He must have just found out when I had an appointment. Someone must have just told him. I found… He was choking himself. Do you understand me?"

Hermione stood, her hand going to her own throat. "Was he speaking?"

Draco nodded. "Potter is still in there." He confirmed, for clarity's sake and regretting it immediately when Hermione's face wavered in her grief. She sat back down heavily and held out a hand in a silent command to wait for her to regain her composure and Draco had a mad urge to embrace her. He took a drink instead and pretended the urge hadn't been there.

Hermione's mind was whirling. It was one thing to suspect he was still in there but to know was apparently important distinction. So many questions and no time to think on them now. She shoved the emotions and questions to the back of her mind and worked to slow her heartbeat. She took measured breaths and ignored the tears threatening. Now was not the time. When she felt more in control a moment later, she cleared her throat before saying, "We will have to save that conversation for another time. For now, let's focus on the more immediate problem of why I was forced to take polyjuice."

"Ah. That."

"Yes. That. Now, what did you mean 'he was here to see to a patient'?"

Draco took his hand out of his pocket and unbuttoned his coat with the same hand as he took his seat. "Granger, there's a lot you don't know about this house. About me… My family."

She snorted, "Obviously."

He shot a glare at her. "One of them is that my father is still alive."

She tried to act as surprised as she could. "I-he-what?!" She sputtered.

"He had my father Kissed. His soul was eaten. A man can live a long time with no soul. He's a husk of a human now…" Draco cleared his throat, uncomfortable with giving her the information no one, save himself and the highest ranking Order members were aware of. "He lives in the West wing, you see. My mother passed a year ago. Father seems to be headed the same way."

Hermione shifted in her seat, unsure how she was supposed to react. If he were her friend, she would be comforting him, and the urge to do so was strong. She couldn't think of anything to say except, "Draco, I'm so sorry, is there… can I do anything to help?"

He had been looking into his glass while speaking. When she responded, he felt the heat of tears near his eyes. Amazed that this standard response was enough to make him want to... To accept her help. He shook his head instead. "It's inevitable that he will pass. He can't even speak any longer. Tonight, he had a stroke. The healer says they're rare in magical bloodlines, but not unheard of." He shrugged. "It probably has to do with not having a soul, who knows." He drank the rest of his firewhiskey and winced at the burn.

"Well, then." Hermione said awkwardly.

"Indeed."

"On a less painful topic, who is 'Elaine'? Should we have a story in case of emergencies?" Hermione asked.

With a chuckle and a smirk, Draco answered, "She was just some muggle woman I passed in the street once."

"How.. did… you know what, I don't even want to know. Let's think of a back story so I'll be prepared if I need to be." Hermione answered, tiredly. Silence was better than this, but only marginally. There was so much to dissect and understand and so many emotions to deal with and…. Hermione sighed. And this is only the beginning of this madness.

A/N: I'm very sorry I haven't been updating. I'm going through a particularly bad depressive episode and I haven't been inspired at all to write. I've decided to make this a monthly updated story, instead of weekly for the time being, until I get through this.

I hope you all have a happy holiday season.