Author's Note: Hey, folks! Thank you so much for all your enthusiasm—it really keeps me motivated. I'm updating as I can—still working a lot of hours. Hoping to post the next chapter on Wednesday!

Chapter 3: Solitary

Draco woke up with some light coming in through the window. He looked around and realized he was still in this forsaken hell of an apartment and promptly went back to sleep.

When he woke up again, his stomach rumbled enough that he knew he had to get up. Xavier had returned during the night (or perhaps morning) and was sleeping with his head under one wing. He padded through the house and into his kitchen, opening cupboards. There was a box of noodles which he tasted hesitantly, but they were all crunchy, not at all chewy and moist like noodles should be. He sighed. What he wouldn't give for his house-elf.

He shuffled around other boxes of things until he saw the one Granger had designated as some sort of breakfast food. He opened the box and popped a handful in his mouth. It rather tasted like sawdust and dried fruit. He ate a few handfuls to have something in his stomach at least.

He examined the knobs on the top of the hot box. One of these ought to heat things. He found the kettle in the cupboard and filled it with water from the sink. He waited, and waited. He stared at the kettle, willing the water to heat up already. He paced the room. He found a mug and placed a teabag in it. He opened the cold box and pleasantly discovered that Granger had put a bag of lemons in his cart yesterday without his noticing.

There was still no sign of the water being hot. Annoyed, he approached the kettle and jabbed it with his forefinger, discovering most unpleasantly that while the kettle hadn't appeared warm, it was in fact burning hot. He stuck his finger in his mouth, grimacing in pain.

When the kettle finally sang, Draco picked it up by the handle and poured water into his cup with utmost care. Merlin, now he had to wait while the tea steeped. He cut a lemon in half and squeezed half into the cup while he continued to wait. He eventually took the cup into the living rooming and set it down on the kitchen table. He sipped it briefly and burned his tongue. Sighing, he went to investigate the television set, squatting in front of it and toying with the buttons. Eventually he had it on and at a reasonable volume. With nothing else to do, he watched TV. He didn't want to think about his current situation anymore than necessary. He wasn't ready to face unpacking his things here. His encounter with the tea kettle had left him wary of the stove. He ate a few more handfuls of that sawdust and fruit, wondering how and why anyone would touch it.

At first he watched the television to pass the time, but he shortly realized he could learn some things from it. One useful thing he learned was about the Lumos switch on the wall. He hadn't had any idea how to light the flat when he came home last night, but after observing the people on television for a while, he realized that often when Muggles came into a room they touched a small lever on the wall and the lights came on. Upon further inspection of his flat, he realized every room in it had one of these small levers. They were so small he hadn't noticed them yesterday. He flicked them up and down experimentally and discovered that like the ones on the television, his Lumos switches also controlled the amount of light in the room.

He continued watching the television set, trying to learn whatever might be useful in helping him understand the world he was going to have to navigate over the next twelve months. Some of what he saw was more useful than others. For example, things with cars and trains generally seemed like they might be useful. Things with singing pirate kings seemed far less than useful. He wasn't entirely sure whether the underground trains were part of the realm of real or fantasy.

Eventually Draco became vaguely aware that it was probably nearing dinner time and that a glass of wine and a hot meal would go down nicely. He remembered the mess he'd made of the cork yesterday. He'd have to see about acquiring one of those devices Granger had for getting the blasted thing out. Of course, any attempt to gain such an item would require him to get dressed, something he hadn't bothered with all day.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he put his robes on and found his key, going across the hall to knock on Granger's door. He had to wait several moments before the door opened. He was almost convinced she wasn't home and he'd have to forego wine tonight (and possibly eat more of that sawdust food).

But then rather suddenly, there she was, with her hair frizzed out like a halo and wearing an oversized t-shirt and baggy floppy looking pants. "Malfoy. Hi." She blinked at him rather owlishly.

He wasn't quite sure what to say. "I have another bottle of wine" tumbled out of his mouth before he could say anything more reasonable.

"Oh. I'll get the corkscrew for you," she said, leaving the door open and getting the implement in question from one of the drawers in the kitchen.

She came back and handed him the corkscrew, figuring he was planning on going back to his flat since he hadn't brought the bottle with him. Of course he wouldn't want her company two days in a row. She put the corkscrew in his hand and was surprised to see him make no move to leave. "Was there something else, Malfoy?"

"I have chicken." Merlin, what was wrong with him tonight? Had that television rotted his brain? He rubbed his temple.

Granger simply looked at him with a look he couldn't discern. Was she curious? Amused? Relieved? She answered at last, "I'll help you cook it."

It seemed to be the answer the two of the both needed and Draco turned back to his flat and she followed him. He'd left the television on, not really thinking about shutting it off.

The box of cereal sat on the floor by the couch and Granger picked it up.

"That stuff tastes terrible, Granger," he said, a bit of his usual drawl back in his voice.

She snorted. "Did you eat it straight from the box?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, trying not to laugh, lest she hurt his prickly pride at a time while he was still adjusting. "The conventional way to eat it is to pour some in a bowl with milk and eat it with a spoon." She paused briefly, absorbing the fact that he'd had the television on. "I can show you how to make dinner." She proceeded into the kitchen and found it woefully lacking in cookware. She went to the fridge and took out two prepared chicken breasts they'd bought from Sainsbury's. "The store we went to yesterday sells a number of prepared foods that only need to be heated up in the oven. This chicken kiev is really good." She demonstrated how to turn on the oven again. "Wait for it to beep that it's heated to the right temperature. Things like this usually list the cooking temperature and time on the packaging here." She had managed to find a cookie sheet in one of the cupboards and a pan to boil water in. "Would you get the noodles from the cupboard?" she asked.

"I tried these this morning. They were terrible," he remarked idly. Part of him was annoyed that Granger knew all of these things and he didn't. As much as he might want to be truly angry at her, he couldn't muster up more than annoyance at his own ignorance of these matters. A very reluctant part of his mind knew he was grateful for her help. He didn't want to be, but he had no magic to do things for himself, no money to hire anyone else to do things for him, and no knowledge of how to accomplish many of his daily survival needs the Muggle way. For the moment, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed her help-at least until he could learn to do things for himself.

She filled the pan with water and turned on the stove. "I've got the knob here up to full heat, but it'll take a little while for the water to heat to a boil."

Draco nodded. "I boiled water this morning for my tea. The Muggle way took forever." He glanced down at his blistered finger.

Draco noted that the oven chimed it's readiness and Granger put the tray of chicken inside. Oven. Stove. The different hot pieces had different names. As the water started to boil, he handed her the noodles and she noticed the blister on his finger.

She poured a portion of the noodles into the pot. "The noodles shouldn't take very long. If you'd like, I can heal that."

He pressed his thumb and forefinger together, feeling the discomfort from the blister. "Don't. Let it remind me that Muggle things take time."

She nodded. They had time now to wait while the food cooked, though she wasn't sure what to say.

He reached for the corkscrew on the counter and applied it to the wine bottle, managing to get it open. Once it was open and he'd carefully begun checking the cupboards; he grimaced as he discovered they'd have to drink their wine out of mugs. He had no wine glasses.

Granger was making conversation again. "I generally boil noodles like this for about 5 five minutes and put them in a strainer. Do you have one?"

Draco shrugged, beginning to check cupboards. "All I have is what was here when they dumped me off here yesterday."

A thorough investigation by both of them showed that his kitchen tools appeared to be limited to a few plates and bowls, forks, knives, and spoons, a few glasses, a few mugs, a frying pan, a sauce pan, his kettle, and a baking sheet. In the very back of one cupboard they found a potholder-at least they'd be able to get the chicken out of the oven without burning their hands.

"So, no strainer. That's alright. The pasta should be about done now." She reached for a plate and the pan. "It's a little tricky to do this without burning your hands from the steam, but it's doable." She started tipping the water out and pressed the plate against the saucepan, letting the water drain out. She then upended the pasta onto the plate. "I'm going to make a bit of something to go over the noodles. You can buy jars of red sauce if you like it, but I prefer white."

He watched her lower the heat on the stove and gather things from the fridge. Butter, milk, lemon. He watched curiously as she worked. He was fairly confident he could make his own dinner tomorrow if this was as easy as it looked. He was certainly capable of reading and following instructions. After all, how many potions had he made?

She cut about half a stick of butter into pieces and tossed it into the saucepan, pouring in a dash of milk and squeezing half a lemon into it. It was the other half of the lemon he'd used for tea this morning. "You don't have any salt or pepper or garlic or any other sort of seasoning, but you should be able to get them at Sainsbury's just down the block." The oven chirped at them and she opened it, using the potholder to get the tray out. "We'll let those sit for a minute. Separate the noodles onto two plates." She busied herself stirring the lemon and butter sauce she'd made and poured it over the pasta on each plate. She deftly lifted the chicken breasts from the tray with a knife and fork. "All set."

They each carried a plate and a mug of wine to the kitchen table and began to eat. The pasta could have used a little salt and pepper, but the lemon and butter gave it enough flavor, and the chicken was delicious. Breaded chicken breast filled with butter, garlic, and parsley. Even if they had to drink the wine out of coffee mugs, it was the best meal Draco had all day.

"That didn't seem terribly difficult."

She shrugged. "It's not, once you know what you're doing. If you can read a potion recipe and make one, cooking isn't much harder."

His plate was empty and it had all been good. "What about these? Do the Muggles have another box that makes them clean?"

She sighed. "Some Muggles do, but your kitchen doesn't have one. You'll have to wash these by hand."

He looked disgusted.

"Well, I didn't see soap or sponges in there, so unless you want to go out and get some, they're not getting washed tonight anyway," she said, leaning back in her seat comfortably. "Is there anything else you need from the shop?"

"Salt and pepper. A wine bottle opener."

Hermione shrugged, settling back in her chair. "It's called a corkscrew. Do you want to go to the store? I could use some fresh fruit anyway."

And so they went. There was a bit of a tiff when Draco wanted to go out in his robes and Granger told him he needed to wear Muggle clothes. He didn't own any Muggle clothes and the ones she had loaned him the day before were vastly inferior to robes regarding comfort.

In the end, Draco went out in his robes and was made uncomfortable enough by passersby and the girl at the register that he silently decided he'd have to accept the conventions of Muggle attire for the time being in public. He didn't have to like them. He was a Slytherin, and capable enough of knowing when blending in was advantageous. A snake could shed it's skin after all.

They went to their separate flats, and Draco put his groceries away. He debated the merits of just letting the dishes wait, but Granger had warned him that the longer he waited, the harder it would be to get them clean. As she had explained the purpose of the cleaning items in the store, he had looked disgusted. "Can't I pay someone else to do this?"

She snorted. "Not with what they're giving you to live on, Malfoy."

Sighing and alone in his flat, he faced his sink. Scrubbing the dishes clean was not something Draco enjoyed. He was convinced that this soap was not good for his skin, and the sponge was far too rough. He glared at the dishes as they sat damply in the dish drainer. Maybe what he needed was a hot shower.

He gave a shudder as he turned the water on. It was ice cold. It was a few minutes before it heated up, and by then, he was soaking wet and realized he had nothing to wash with. Even though he'd been permitted to bring what remained of his hair products, he hadn't bothered unpacking anything. Unpacking would have made it feel permanent. He hadn't been able to even entertain the thought of opening his trunk.

And finally he remembered the other thing he hadn't brought, as he shivered with the water off. No towels. He settled for wrapping his robes around himself again, and stalked back to his bedroom.

Draco was annoyed with the sight that greeted him. Finding the Lumos switch had reminded him that his bed was unmade. He was quite unaccustomed to getting into an unmade bed or being required to put the sheets on himself.

It took rather a long time, but eventually he got the bed sorted out and curled up to sleep. Tomorrow he'd have to unpack and take stock of what he might still need here. No sense in keeping himself more uncomfortable than necessary. He wrinkled his nose at the realization that he probably needed Muggle clothes as well. Sacrifices must be made if he was to survive in this world long enough to get his magic back.