Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad to finally get a fairly good story going on again. :D Here's the next chapter…


Chapter Three

Xanthe

Soon Hermione came coughing out of a strange fireplace, her dark chocolate-colored fur coated in a layer of soot. She tumbled out onto a scarlet carpet, getting black marks all over it. She turned and saw Malfoy lying behind her, completely limp and turned so that she couldn't see his face.

She looked around their surroundings. They were in a cozy, large living room. The flames in the wide hearth reduced in size and shifted from green to red-orange. Large mahogany bookshelves against the walls were filled with thick, dusty volumes. Two white armchairs and a white loveseat were set around a coffee table on which a small picture frame sat. In the picture, an older teen girl with curly blonde hair smiled and played with a strand of her hair. Half of the picture was burned off. Small gold letters in the corner said, 'Xanthe, 7th Year', with part of the phrase scribbled out with black ink.

"Why does she look familiar?" Hermione mewed to herself.

"Urrrgh…"

She turned around and saw Malfoy slowly lifting himself from the floor. A large red, swollen spot had formed on his head where he'd hit the Weasleys' fireplace. He opened his eyes and looked over to Hermione, sitting in front of him with her head turned.

"You… you damn cat…" he groaned.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!"

Hermione jetted to a safe spot under the coffee table at the sound of the voice. The same blonde girl from the picture had suddenly come from the hallway to the right. She slowly and carefully walked toward Malfoy, her arm raised, shaking, grasping her wand. Her face was tinged with red from anger.

"You! I want you out of my house!" she screamed to Malfoy.

"This is your house?" he yelled back, jumping up from the floor and getting his own wand out from his robes. "I couldn't tell! It looks so much like some Muggle's dump…"

"I told you to get out," she said.

"And how dare you, a blood traitor like you, even more disgraceful than a Mudblood, telling me what to do, I'd kill you – "

"Oh, you would, would you? Then do it! Kill me, right now!"

Malfoy's grin faded. He kept his arm outstretched and glared at her. He opened his mouth as if to shout some more, but he closed it again as if he'd thought better of it.

The woman put her arm down at her side, but continued to look him in the eyes.

"You couldn't murder me, could you, Draco?"

"Shut up!" he snapped. He pivoted around on one foot, looking absolutely livid. The woman behind him continued.

"You're too soft-hearted to be a Death Eater, aren't you? You couldn't kill Dumbledore and you couldn't kill me, no matter how much you hate us."

"I said to shut up! I'm only sparing you because the Dark Lord hasn't commanded me to kill you – yet."

"Of course," she said, sounding completely unconvinced. She stared at him, her face expressionless, knowing, and didn't say anything more. Malfoy stared into the fire. Hermione could see that he was thinking furious thoughts, just from the look in his eyes, the ferocious look he had.

"I'm leaving," he said simply, swallowing and raising his wand in the air.

"Don't forget your cat," the woman said. She walked over to Hermione and bent down to pick her up. Oh, God no, she thought. I don't WANT to go home with him! She growled as low and demonically as she could to make her point, but the woman didn't seem to be listening.

"You even pissed off the little Moggy," she said.

"I don't want the goddamned cat," Malfoy hissed.

"Of course you do," she said, throwing Hermione at him. She meowed her displeasure as she sailed through the air toward Malfoy, an uncomfortable swooping feeling filling her stomach. In seconds, she'd landed, dazed, in Malfoy's arms.

"Aw, you caught her," the woman said, smirking.

Malfoy's face turned red. "I told you I don't want the bloody animal, it's not mine!"

She wasn't listening, but had reached into her own bag of Floo Powder on the coffee table and absentmindedly threw it into the fire, turning the flames bright green again.

"Hey, wait, what are you – " Malfoy started, but the woman interrupted.

"Take care of Moggy," she said casually, walking around him, and then, before he could protest, she'd said, "Draco Malfoy's home!" and pushed him into the fire.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Malfoy and Hermione, still in his arms, ended up tumbling out of a fireplace in a much larger, more spacious room. It was considerably different from the woman's living room; this was obviously the home of a wealthy wizard, with green leather furniture and large portraits of people with white-blonde hair, all glowering at them from the walls. Fitting for the stuck-up pureblood.

"I hate that bitch…" Malfoy said, fuming. Hermione wriggled out of his arms and quickly ran behind a couch, from which spot she hissed viciously at him.

"Oh, come off it, you beast," he growled, getting up off the floor and brushing soot and ash from his already black robes. "I've had enough, I'm going to bed. I hope you get out of here before then."

"I will, believe me!" Hermione growled.

With one final glare in her direction, he stormed off through the only door in the room, slamming it shut behind him. Hermione took several minutes to calm down and think through what had happened, then she slowly emerged from her little crevice.

The room was unbearably gloomy, with all the Malfoys in the shadowy pictures looking at her as if they knew she was really a Muggle-born witch, and that it was her fault that she was here in the first place.

Hermione did not stop to wonder who the woman was in the strange house, or why Malfoy seemed to be so intimidated by her. Right now, Hermione was more worried about being trapped here. She felt even more alone than she had when Mrs. Weasley shut her out of the Burrow. After all, she was in the home of Draco Malfoy, the person she'd hated the most in the world after she'd found out she was a witch.

How was she going to get out? She couldn't open the door, and when she got out there, how long would it take her to found the front door? Knowing Malfoy's family, this house was bound to be huge… this probably wasn't the only living room he had…

And then she didn't have her wand, and even if she did, she couldn't pick it up or say the incant-ations… She was really starting to appreciate extendable thumbs, now that she didn't have them… She couldn't open doorknobs, couldn't reach doorknobs…

Oh. My. God, she thought. I'll be stuck here forever! I'll live with Malfoy, he'll treat me like rubbish, and Harry and Ron and everyone will think I've been murdered! No!

She ran to the door, began scratching at the wood, and yowled desperately, even though she knew it probably would not work. And, of course, she got no answer, until finally Malfoy yelled, "Shut up, you bloody cat!"