Welcome back readers. Congratulations, for you are the few that made it as far as the chapter two. For those wondering where one Draco Malfoy was in the first one, well, here he is in the second. I would also like to announce that there will be some chapters, or some parts of them, that will be written in Harry or Ron's POV. I will also like to point out that Hermione and Draco, even if they will grow to like each other later, will not be in a loving relationship from the start. So be patient dear readers, and excuse my overgrown author's note.

Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Harry Potter.

Ephraim

Chapter two - The boy and the dungeon

Hermione's POV

The first thing that she noticed was that however cold it was in the stairs, it was nothing compared to the temperature down there. The whole room felt like hell just froze. She first encountered a metal gate with vertical metal bars. It reminded Hermione of the old prison cell block she once visited with her elementary school. With a quick spell, the gate unlocked and the witch all but threw herself in. It was dark, and even then could she see she was standing in a barren hallway. That corridor, she realised, led to multiple cells closed with the same metal bars as the principal door. The Gryffindor had accidentally stumbled upon the house's dungeon. Her jacket was not warm enough to keep her body temperature high and she shivered, uncomfortably cooled off. Typical, she thought to herself, for death eaters to put innocent people in a room where they could possibly die of hypothermia. Hermione stopped walking and listened, close to the gate, for any sign one of Voldemort disciple would have followed her. Nothing. They probably didn't expect a stranger to just throw themselves in the prison block. She let out a long, tired sigh. She had been supposed to spend the night at Ron's place. Oh God! Harry and Ron were going to kill her if she didn't die there. They must have been worried out of their mind. She winced as her breathing hurt her now bruising shoulder and ribs. Surely she'd have time later to heal them but then, her priority was getting out of there, quickly. She concentrated on the puffs her breath made instead of the pain she felt all over and calmed down. She was Hermione Granger. Surely she could get out of this uncomfortable situation.

Ready to be more reasonable and ready to escape once more, the young Gryffindor witch moved swiftly towards the end of the hallway. Perhaps there was a door, some stairs; something that would help her get away. She still had no bloody idea about where she was. Once she reached the end of the freezing corridor, she was met with nothing more than a meek stony wall. Frustrated, she kicked it with an unsatisfied half scream of despair. She was stuck in an impasse. She couldn't go back up by fear of getting caught, but she couldn't stay down here forever. And now her right foot hurt more than it did before. She let out a frustrated half sob, tears welling in her eyes.

- You know, kicking that poor wall is not going to help you in any way Granger. A voice drawled out.

No way. She backtracked and this time, took careful precaution of looking inside the cells as she passed them. In the second cell on her right she found, sitting there sullenly, one Draco Malfoy.

There was no way it wasn't him. He was quite easy to recognise because of his hair: There was blond, there was very blond and then there was Malfoy. Her Slytherin schoolmate had his back against the wall, knees drawn to the chest presumably to keep warmer in the subarctic temperature reigning in the dungeon. He had obviously seen better days, his pale skin even paler than usual, making the bags under his eyes stick out.

- Malfoy? She managed to let out.

- Who else Granger? He smirked at her and Hermione couldn't help but feel annoyed at his arrogance.

- What in Merlin's beard are you doing here Malfoy?

- Can't you see I'm taking vacations? He stood up and came to lean on the other side of the cell door, arms crossed over his chest. The real question is: What is a muggleborn like you doing in a nest of death eaters?

He had grown taller over a couple of months, towering over her with his eyebrows raised. Looking closer she realised he had fading bruised on his neck like somebody had tried to strangle him, and some new ones on his cheekbones and near his eyes. He sported a split lip, who otherwise were chapped, cracked and blueish because of the cold. She noticed the lack of use of the Mudblood term.

- I accidently took a portkey. She mumbled. She didn't know what had pushed her to answer the other teen.

A look of disbelief had befallen Malfoy's features and he burst laughing. It was a deep laugh and Hermione really did not understand why it was so funny.

- Trust one of Potty's friend for getting herself in trouble in the middle of the summer.

At that Hermione had to smile. Funny, how she didn't think he could have a decent sense of humour.

- Seriously Malfoy. What are you doing in this frozen hellhole?

Malfoy's smirk fell and his eyes scrutinized Hermione's, perhaps in search for some kind of trick to fool him. That's when Hermione noticed something.

- Malfoy, not to be out of term or anything, but… Weren't you a death eater?

She pointed down at his left arm. The Slytherin was wearing a worn out, simple white and slightly overgrown tee, stained at some places with blood. Where there once stood a dark mark on his arm was then scarred, angry red flesh, like somebody had scraped off the skin with a butter knife. Unknowingly, Draco's right hand came to rub the spot, eyes scrunching up to form a grimace. It was unlike him to show that much emotion.

- Yeah, well, not anymore.

- Is that why you're standing alone in freezing cell?

Malfoy shot an unconvincing glare at his schoolmate, trying to look intimidating. Truth was, he looked like he was in dire need of medical help, a good meal and some rest. Hermione found herself almost pitying the boy. Almost. She reminded herself that if he was in this position, it was mainly his own fault. Of course, the fact that he had taunted her, cursed at her friend and called her a mudblood did help the feeling of utter antipathy she felt for him. Yet Hermione was human. She was incapable of not feeling a twinge of sympathy for Draco Malfoy.

Both of them stood there, lost in their thoughts. Surprisingly, it was Malfoy who broke the silence.

- They excommunicated me. His voice was barely a whisper, and his grey eyes stared in the distance. Never felt a pain like that in my life. It was because I was incapable of killing Dumbledore, see. Even Snape couldn't do a thing about it. He turned his gaze back to the Gryffindor. I've been down here since the headmaster's death.

Hermione was flabbergasted.

- They excommunicated you and locked you down here, just because you made a mistake?

- There is no pity amongst the death eater's order, Granger. There is no place for weakness either.

Well. Not that Hermione would tell him, but not killing Dumbledore, lowering his wand, as Harry had put it, was one of the very few things Malfoy did that she considered brave and strong.

Interrupting her train of thoughts, there was a loud bang! erupting from upstairs, followed by a loud shout.

- I swear! I don't know where he is! We searched the whole house! The first voice was panicked.

The second shook Hermione's heart to its foundations.

- Well, your incompetence has costed us a great deal of time. Now we'll just have to search it again.

Voldemort.

- I'm sorry my lord! I… I will do better!

- No, you will not. Avada kedavra.

The sound of a body tumbling sounded and Hermione led her hands to her mouth as she let out a gasp. Malfoy just closed his eyes.

- Malfoy. Hermione turned around. I'm getting out of here. Come with me.

The steely grey eyes stared at her from up, where he watched her intently.

- I…

Bang! The dungeon's door slammed open.