A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, I love reading them and it sounds like so far the majority is liking the story, which is awesome! However, please feel free to give me advice, suggestions or let me know what is specifically confusing you and maybe I can fix it! My feelings don't get hurt easily, so please go ahead and be honest. Chapter 5 is almost done, and fyi it's going to be pretty smutty in case you want to skip it.
Draco rolled over on the sofa, grumbling softly. His neck ached, he was too tall for the short couch and he had slept horribly. The morning sunlight was coming in through one of the flat's few windows and penetrating his eyelids. He knew, much to his dislike, that he wouldn't be able to fall back into a deep sleep. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils filled with the smell of smoky sausage. His eyes popped open. He could hear the tinkering of pans coming from his tiny kitchen and the sound of his fridge slamming. He got up from the couch and hurried over.
"Your cupboards are empty," Hermione complained, reaching up on her tiptoes to investigate a new cubby, letting the short pajama shorts she must have found in her bag and put on show a glimpse of her butt, "Don't you have any salt?"
"Hopefully Snape will bring some," Draco muttered through gritted teeth, "whenever that will be…" irritated beyond all measure that night had come and gone and he hadn't showed up yet, on top of the impulsive and involuntary urges related to Hermione that kept surging through his body.
Hermione turned and looked at him, apparently amused, "Professor Snape brings you groceries?" she said with a laugh.
"What are you doing?' Draco spat, ignoring her teasing.
"Making some breakfast obviously," Hermione spat back mockingly.
"Just making yourself at home then?" Draco retorted.
"I'm starving," she responded, ignoring his tone, "and you were sleeping like the dead. I'm making enough for you," she added sternly, scooping half of the pan's scrambled eggs onto a plate and shoving it into his chest.
Still scowling, but impressed by the tempting hot food, he said nothing and took the plate.
Hermione, satisfied with his silence, popped sausages on top of his eggs as well, then taking her own plate, began nibbling on her own sausage as she left the kitchen and began a slow sauntering tour of the ugly living room, "You're out of eggs now too," she called back.
Draco ate in agitated silence, although he was relieved Hermione seemed to at least understand binding charms, her remarks of escaping had troubled him at first. To walk out the door too far would mean her heart would explode in her chest, and if Draco were to die, whatever the cause, Hermione would lose all electrical impulses in her brain, rendering her brain dead to the point of no recovery. It was nice to be spared that grisly conversation.
Finishing his plate he then noticed the fresh pot of coffee. Pouring himself a steamy cup he followed Hermione out to the living room.
She only had a few bites left and she was slowly feeding herself while looking with interest at his surveillance desk. The silver top was slowly starting to spin, pulsing with slow, faint red light.
Draco's hand went limp, his coffee mug flipping out of his grip and slipping all over the cheap yellow linoleum. Someone was coming, and there he was, letting Hermione see everything!
Hermione looked over at source of the racket, only to see Draco advancing upon her, wand at the ready.
"Get back in the room!" he demanded.
Hermione looked at him with confusion, "Why?"
"NOW!" he yelled, pointing his wand in her face.
"But-"
"I swear Granger, I will…" he trailed off, distracted by the top spinning faster, "Just get going!"
Hermione scowled at him, throwing her plate and fork down onto his desk, scattering various objects tumultuously. Then she stormed off down the hall.
Draco could hear the faint beep now, coming from the top. Someone intending to gain access to the flat was getting closer and closer.
They reached the room together, Hermione still looking furious towards the treatment she was receiving. Draco looked desperately around the room.
"Get on the bed," he ordered distractedly.
"What?" Hermione cried, "Why?"
"Do it!" he yelled again, scurrying around in a drawer of the bedroom's ancient dresser.
Hermione sat down in a huff when she first noticed the rhythmic beep. It was getting louder each time.
"Aha!" Draco yelled triumphantly, pulling out a grey circle. He grabbed her hand and then speedily began ripping off strips.
Hermione realized he was duct taping her wrists to the iron rod headboard, eyes wide with shocked anger as Draco kept looking over his shoulder down the hall towards his desk. The beeping was louder now.
He wrapped the tape around several times as fast as he could, looping in all directions. Satisfied enough, he tossed the duct tape away, "Best thing muggles ever did…" he joked cruelly.
"I wasn't even doing anything!" Hermione protested strongly, "Why do I have to be tied up in here?!"
Draco looked even further down the hall, craning his neck. The little top was now glowing with red light, filling the whole room with redness, and screaming a siren like beep. "Listen," he hissed in a serious whisper, "If you know what is good for you, you will act as though this is exactly where you've been since you arrived here, understand?"
Hermione, disturbed by the flashes in his icy eyes, did not argue.
Draco dashed down the hall, out of Hermione's sight. He hastily tapped the books and then ran over to work on the locks. As soon as the last bolt clicked, the door swung open ominously.
"What took so long?" barked Snape, dark and brooding as ever, looking deep into Draco's eyes in that uncomfortable piercing way like he always did.
"She, uh-," Draco stammered, "was giving me some flack… I, we, I was just feeding her."
Snape did not let go of his stare. Draco often felt like he was grabbing onto him with eyes and squeezing him on the shoulders.
"Feeding her?" he finally drawled slowly. Then he pushed his way in, dropping packages on the floor, and then surveyed his surroundings while massaging his hands. Without invite or permission, he entered Draco's bedroom. He looked at Hermione, bound to the bed. Hermione looked back at him with intense loathing. Neither said a word. With a swish of his heavy robes, he turned around and returned to Draco in the living room.
"So…" Draco said, impatient for him to say something.
"She's come up with an incantation," Snape began, as if knowing exactly what Draco wanted him to explain, "one that lets you float through alarm shields like a ghost, and one that also penetrates through cloaking devices."
He turned to look at Draco.
Draco said nothing.
"We need to know that incantation so we can figure out how to block it from now on." Snape continued then, "She will be far too strong in the mind for Veritaserum. Cruciatus, of course, is always a good idea. But it has also been discussed appealing to her muggle heritage…" he added, drawing Draco's attention to a tool box.
"What do you mean?" Draco asked.
Snape pulled a book out from his robes.
"American Torture: From the Cold War to Abu Ghraib and Beyond, by Michael Otterman," Draco read out loud.
"Muggles have used these methods in their little wars for centuries," Snape said, fanning the pages with his thumb, "Interrogation tactics… prolonged mental harm… stress positions… severe physical pain…" he read, "It's all very direct; very physical. You see; muggles are very hung up on the literal flesh and bone of their bodies, since their little minds can't comprehend energy emanating beyond the body. Pulling off fingernails with pliers say, or switching between almost boiling water to freezing water may in fact be more effective than an overall magical technique like Cruciatus."
Draco felt like he was going to be ill. Muggles could be so twisted.
"Sir…" he finally croaked, "I'm a bit concerned about all of these… methods."
Snape looked at him with mild interest but said nothing.
"I just don't feel," Draco pressed on, "that any from of torture will be effective on her…"
Snape looked unaffected by this, "Well, yes, of course," Snape agreed, "But what does that matter? Something has to be done about this incident. Our Master is not going to just let this happen without finding something useful from it. If it's not going to be answers then it's going to be eliminating the threat."
"Well…" Draco began, inhaling deeply, "eliminating her might be a mistake." He pressed on quickly, avoiding Snape's bewilderment, "She's never going to tell us how she can do what she can do, but wouldn't it be beneficial to us if we let her do what she can do?"
Snape's ears seemed to perk, "Meaning?" he inquired.
"She doesn't want us to know her technique, and that's fine, but she can go ahead and do it for us to get us into Gringott's. We could talk her into it, if it meant she got to be released."
Snape seemed to hum to himself grimly, thinking it over; "Yes…" he finally spoke, "She probably could… If anyone could…"
Draco watched him closely, waiting for anything decisive.
"Well I must admit," Snape said strangely, "its odd no one thought of this earlier…"
Draco was filled hope, "The Dark Lord will probably be pleased by my idea then? I'll go get her, you can take her to him now," he exclaimed excitedly.
Snape's expression turned menacing, "Have an ounce of patience Boy," he ordered sharply, "One can't just barge in on the Dark Lord himself and then tell him what he is going to do with his prisoners. I will take this idea to him for now, nothing else."
Draco shrank back, disappointed she wouldn't be leaving, "Well… can you at least tell him I thought of it?" he pleaded.
Snape began shaking his head as if he had a terrible headache, "Do you not hear your own ungratefulness when you talk?" he asked, "It truly is an astonishing thing to behold."
Draco went to object but he was cut off.
"Do you really think that I haven't done, and still continue to do, all that is practical to do to put in a good word for you and your entire family?"
"Sir," Draco started, "You know I meant no disrespect, I know the only reason I'm alive is because of you, I have nothing but gratitude for what you have done…"
"And I have done a lot," Snape interrupted again, "The Mudblood being here is evidence of that!"
Draco looked confused, about to protest.
Snape changed his tone as if he was talking to a young child, "I found the Dark Lord entrusting you gathering this important information and or the honor of disposing of her to be a mighty statement of growing approval. A feeling I am pretty sure he did not develop on his own."
"Yes," he answered quietly, not wanting to meet Snape's gaze, "I understand you have done me and Mother a great kindness, as I know you will continue to do for my father once he is back-"
Snape practically groaned, "I knew this would end up about your Father somehow…"
Draco was officially angry now, "It's not like I haven't been waiting for almost a month, going days at a time without an update!"
"And the update is always the same, is it not?"
"Yes, yes," Draco grumbled, "As soon as we're sure we know the guards routine…" he repeated as though he had heard it numerous times.
Snape looked amused, "And now we are confident we do."
Draco finally looked back at Snape, wide eyed.
"Looks like our best window is at 8:37 pm."
Draco's eyes got even wider.
Snape looked pleased with himself, "So, I will present the Dark Lord with your suggestion, accompany McNair and Lestrange to Azkaban prison, and, as far as I can predict, be back here tonight."