Good morning all. It is currently 9:05am where I live, and I'm sitting in bed, just woken up with fresh ideas. I have a feeling this story is going to captivate me for a long time, and I am totally okay with that. :D As always, leave me reviews. I would LOVE that! And I do want to press on the fact that a lot of Dramoine stories are going to along the same lines, especially if you want to stay canon, like most people I do. In my experiences, I'm okay with that because everyone brings a different spice to their story. I want to stay as true as possible to the books. :D Without further ado, let's see how our two heroes take their first few days together.

Chapter Two: Intolerance

It wasn't long after Professor McGonagall left that reality had begun to sink in for both of them. Hermione was still completely livid that her enemy was in her home, and Draco wasn't a fan of it himself. Even as he made his way through the threshold and into the home, it wasn't like he had imagined. It was plain, ordinary, nothing like the darkness and vast of Malfoy Manor. And most of all, it was small. He hated small spaces. Uttering a few swear words under his breath, he surveyed his new accommodations. Hermione just barely heard "Mudblood" on his lips and spun around.

Draco met her hazel eyes, his cold and unforgiving. Hermione's pink lips pursed. Just as long as he was stuck here, he decided to make it so she was in as much hell as he was. With a smirk, he leaned a tad closer to her, knowing that she had heard him and a variety of insults were already on the tip of his tongue.

"What, you filthy little bitch?" he sneered. He could see the anger in the witch's eyes, as he was satisfied with his accomplishment.

"I may not like having you here, but you need to understand that both of us have to tolerate it," she responded through her teeth.

"Oh, there you go with that Gryffindor reasoning, Granger," Draco rolled his grey eyes. "I could just leave."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Go right ahead, see what happens."

A sudden realization came to Draco. Obviously, before she had left, that old bitch had placed wards around the Mudblood's home, as to prevent Draco from escaping this prison. Like he would try to escape… Where would he even go? With a scowl, he walked over to the door, opened it, and tried to place his hand outside. It was met with a sizzle, and he yelped when he saw the red burns on the tips of his fingers.

"This is bullshit," he growled loudly, loud enough for Hermione to clench her teeth.

"You will be sleeping in the guest room," Hermione said and directed him upstairs.

"I would rather sleep with a hypogriff," Draco mused with daggers for eyes.

"Suit yourself and sleep on the floor. It's not like I give a shit," she threw back. With that, she turned her back to him and headed into the living quarters.

"I wasn't done!" he yelled after her, but she ignored him. Hastily, looking for any reason to argue, he followed her. "I wasn't done talking to you!"

"I'm done talking," Hermione said, picking up her tea off of the coffee table. Draco's eyes followed her as she made her way around the couch, and going through the threshold to head upstairs.

"Too fucking bad!" Draco continued to follow her.

"Malfoy, get away from me before I force you to get away," she said, finally heading up the stairs. Tonight had already been crazy enough… She didn't need a pissed off Slytherin following her every move and screaming insults at her. In fact, all she wanted to do was sleep.

"I am not going anywhere, Mudblood!" he spat.

Hermione wasn't sure why that particular statement made a fire burn inside her abdomen, but for some reason, it did. She set her tea on the banister and pulled her want from her back pocket, raising it to Draco at the bottom of the stairs. In turn, he raised his, itching for a duel. The look in her eyes was somewhat revenant. She hated him, and she wasn't afraid to show it. Equally, he hated her, hated all of her kind. He wasn't about to back down from her. For a few moments, both of them stood, holding their wants to one another. The tip of Hermione's wand was starting to admit that burnt orange glow again. This time, Draco was prepared, and his began to glow a shade of soft amber.

"I won't tell you again," she said, her tone as cold as the snowflakes that fell in the middle of winter.

"You don't tell me what to do, you vile excuse for a witch!" he shot back.

It was he, instead of her, that had initiated the hex that shot out of his wand. But, she was ready.

"Finite Incantatum!" she yelled, stopping the hex halfway up the stairs. She swirled her want and with a quick, "Expelliarmus!" she disarmed Draco and caught his want in midair.

Draco stood at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes wide and angry. His breath was ragged, his lips pressed tightly together. There were a million words that came to his mouth, yet none of them were able to slip out. Oh, he wanted too, in the worst kind of way, but something in his pit of his stomach, reason or otherwise, told him that fighting with her right now was not the best idea. He watched in almost agony as Hermione pocketed his wand. In an act of despair, Draco began running up the steps only to be met with a jinx that sent him flying back down the stairs and against the wall behind him. With a groan, he crumpled to the ground. Building up enough effort, he looked up to Hermione, who just huffed, grabbed her tea, and proceeded upstairs, presumably to her room.

When she got into her room, she pointed her wand at the door and whispered "Colloportus", sealing the door in case the angered Slytherin wanted to instigate her further. Hermione slowly sat down on her bed, feeling the poke of his wand in her back pocket. She pulled it out, and set it in the second drawer of her bed side table, also locking it. There was no reason to let him have it if all he was going to do was abuse it. Then again, was she even remotely surprised? No.

All of this slowly started coming back to her, as she realized the predicament she was in. For the time being, they were safe in her house. Not two weeks ago, she had Obliviated her parents in order to protect them, and sent them to Australia. That had been the hardest thing she had ever done, but she did it to keep them safe. She couldn't let anything bad happen to them, not because of her. Never once since she found out she was a witch had she doubted her ability, her place in the wizarding world. Not when Malfoy through his taunts at her, not with everything she, Harry, and Ron had been through. But, now, a creep of doubt submerged itself in her mind. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she softly casted a silencing charm on her door as well just in case Malfoy decided to come up to the guest room. She didn't want him to hear her crying. Hermione would never admit if she was inferior because she truly believed she wasn't. But, right now, she couldn't help but wonder what her life would have been like if she never would have been a witch.

Rays of sunlight streamed through the back sliding glass doors of Hermione's home as the sun rose the next morning. They were warm and comforting. Draco's eyes shifted as he awoke, but he was warm, and for the moment, comfortable. Until he heard noises coming from the kitchen. Carefully, he raised his head to see the Mudblood making herself something to drink. From the looks of it, it looked like tea. But, she was making it the way Muggles made it. Just something else that made her completely subordinate to him.

The smell of the tea reached his nostrils, and he couldn't help but feel slightly calmer. Even now, in his current situation. But, he didn't sleep well that night. Nightmares still haunted his dreams… He felt as though he hadn't gotten any sleep at all. Hermione poured herself a cup of tea. Merlin, she was still in her night clothes: a plain pair of pink shorts, and a white t-shirt. Her hair was curly, brown, messy, and untamed. He didn't know how she dealt with it. He watched as she took her cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table, parallel to where he was now. There were papers and books all over that table, of which he had inspected last night. It was funny that she didn't hide them from him; he was sure that she would have. He carefully lifted himself off of the couch and smoothed down his black shirt, ready for another day of insults. Draco had enough ready to spat out for a lifetime.

When he stood up, Hermione's eyes only looked up slightly. She was trying her best to ignore him; she thought it was best that way. Last night was apparently a restless night for the both of them, as she had heard him whimpering all the way from her bed. It had added a certain amount of humanity to him, even as he stood before her now. She looked down at her papers, scattered books, and notebooks. With a pencil in her fingers, she began to scribble down words that really meant nothing to her at the time. She was more concerned about Harry and Ron's well-being, and since Draco had showed up on her doorstep not as much as twenty-four hours ago, they had possessed her thoughts.

"You can't help your friends, Granger. For all you know, they're dead," Draco spat, breaking the silence.

"They aren't dead," Hermione said. She seemed quite sure, even though it had been months since she had spoken to them.

"Oh, you really think that Weasel has survived this long? Psh, he can't even make a simple potion let alone survive out there for months. I wouldn't be surprised if we found his body in the woods somewhere, died of illness. Or even better, splinched." A flicker of anger crossed Hermione's eyes. "Oh, I forgot you two were in some sort of sick relationship. Pathetic. Who would ever degrade themselves as low as to be with a Mudblood?"

Hermione had to choose her battles wisely. Walking away was always something she was good at, so that's exactly what she did. Her chair scooted backwards with ease, and she pushed past Draco without meeting his eyes. For a moment, Draco thought to grab her arm, to stop her from leaving. Was he really that desperate for company? Even from a Mudblood? Even then, he let her go for a few moments before turning back and watching her go up the stairs. He decided now may be a good time to follow her. He watched her feet go up the stairs, and he followed her until about halfway when he got a feeling in the pit of his stomach that she was going to turn around and jinx him again. But, she didn't. It occurred to him that she had also taken his wand – for all he knew, she had broken it. If she did, he swore she would rue this day…

"Granger! Mudblood!" he yelled as she stomped into the bathroom.

The upstairs of the house was just as small. There was a lot of white, too much white. Draco caught sight of her in the mirror of the bathroom right before she slammed the door in his face. He didn't know what he was doing at that point; he didn't even know what he wanted to argue about. Just argue, yell, scream, something. His hand was on the knob to the bathroom, but it wouldn't budge. The bitch must've cast a lock charm on the door. He pounded against the door in a fierce rhythm.

"Open this fucking door, Granger, or I swear –"

"Leave me alone!" she screamed back.

"Give me back my fucking wand, you –"

"You aren't getting your wand back, Malfoy!"

"YOU WILL GIVE ME MY FUCKING WAND!" he roared at the door, both his fists pounding on it now. His face was so close to the white wood that he could see where the paint was beginning to chip away. His heart was racing fast now.

"NO!" she yelled back. "I WILL NOT BE AFRAID TO LIVE IN MY OWN HOME BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"GIVE IT BACK OR YOU'LL HAVE BIGGER PROBLEMS TO WORRY ABOUT!"

He heard the water turn on from the shower. With a defeated sigh, he realized that the conversation was over. His eyes were drooping now, and he came to the realization that he truly needed sleep. Some good and decent sleep. Somehow, his back was against the door now. He slid down it, listening to the water run. It was somewhat soothing, soothing enough for his grey eyes to droop into slits. He heard a light thud and realized that must have been her clothes. The thought of her naked repulsed him, but the sound of the water was comforting him. It became uneven when she stepped into the shower, but none the less, he took the few minutes of comfort he had before picking another fight.

Hermione dropped to sit down in the shower. The water poured over her and she tried to stiffen tears. This was too much. If this was going to be every day for the next month, she couldn't live with it. And then afterwards, when both of them returned to Hogwarts, what was that going to be like? She had made a conscious decision downstairs that she was going out. She had made plans to go to the library anyway. She leaned back against the back of the tub, closing her eyes. Draco hadn't come with any clothes… Why did she suddenly just realize that? Although he had always been an arrogant prude, he deserved to have at least a change of clothes. When she went out, she would go get him some clothing. Damn her for always trying to see the good in people… Especially since she knew when she got out of the shower, there would just be another insult, another argument.

When Hermione opened the door, she was surprised to have found Draco slumped against it. In an instant, he bolted up, staring at her with cold grey eyes. Hermione sighed, here we go again. She tried to sneak past him to her room across the hall, but to no avail. Draco side-stepped her and his lips opened to reveal a string of insults.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

"Out! Merlin, am I even allowed to do that?!" she yelled back, throwing her hands into the air.

"I preferred you locked in the bathroom, Mudblood," he snarled. He noticed she was in a white robe, her curly brown hair was shaping her face in locks, and her face was plain. If she wasn't a Mudblood, he might've found her the slightest bit attractive. If she wasn't a Mudblood.

"Get out of my way before I make you," she growled, intent on getting to her room.

Draco scanned her up and down. The robe didn't have pockets, which meant she hadn't thought to grab her wand from the bathroom. Using this to his advantage, he stepped out of the way. Hermione looked shocked for a moment, but sighed and brushed past him, thanking him softly. Draco made his way to the bathroom, keeping a look over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't watching him. But, she had already disappeared into her room.

When he entered the bathroom, he was overcome with the smell of coconuts and orchids. It was almost intoxicating, but it had been the same smell he had smelled when he walked into the house the night before. The smell of the Mudblood. He looked at himself in the slightly steamy mirror: it had been a long time since he had had a nice shower. His blonde hair was only slightly tussled, but his face bore signs that he had aged much older than a year in the past year he was gone. The warmth seemed so inviting, too… As he looked around the bathroom, his eyes landed on the wand, laying delicately on the countertop. Just as he reached out to grab it, a hand seized his wrist.

He looked to his right to see Hermione holding onto him. Her eyes were filled with fire. It should have scared him, but it didn't. In fact, it intrigued him more than anything.

"Get away from my wand," she hissed, each word coming out as a sentence of its own.

"How dare you touch me!" he pulled himself out of her grip. She had put on a pair of dark jeans and a sweater in the short time that it had taken him to get to the bathroom.

"I knew you were up to something," she reasoned and grabbed her wand. She put it in her back pocket. "Otherwise, you wouldn't have backed down."

"Well done, Granger, you're actually beginning to think," he snarled, clutching his wrist. She turned her back towards him and began to make her way down the stairs. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING?"

"I told you, I'm going out," she barked angrily. What a typical man: he didn't even listen. "You need your sleep anyway."

Her last comment made his lips slack. How had she known…? Regardless of how she knew, it didn't matter. He did need his sleep, and he wasn't going to deny that. Maybe a nice hot shower was always in order… He watched as she moved down the stairs, and he even followed her to the top. When she was out of his sight, the front door opened and closed, and he knew she was gone. A breath of relief rose out of his chest. But, Draco soon realized that he was indeed, alone. Again. In his months spent in isolation, he didn't appreciate the feeling of having company. Now, it was just him, and the feelings of dread became evident.

Though, he could take a shower now and maybe, finally, get some sleep. With a scoff, he turned back towards the bedrooms. There were three: two of which were closed, and he presumed, locked. Locked to keep him out. With a roll of his grey eyes, he made his way towards the one whose door was open. It was a lightly colored room with a queen sized bed, a closet, and dresser. There were a few decorations, pictures of places he'd never gone, but all the less, it comforted him in a strange way. Draco made his way back to the bathroom, still warm, and reeking of coconut and orchids. He turned on the water to the shower, and stripped himself of his black clothing. Even taking them off felt like a release. He sighed, and stepped into the shower, and at that moment, everything melted away. He allowed the water to wash away his pain, his dread, and his imminent loneliness. He couldn't tell you how long he stood there, letting the water run over him, feeling more or less free, and at some point, he dropped down to the bottom of the tub, and sat. Finally, relaxation came to him, and he wanted to enjoy every moment of it.

Hermione had taken no interest in going to the library, which was most unusual for her. Instead, she had fancied a walk to her favorite clothing shop. The morning breeze was cool and helped her clear her head. Besides, it was nice to get away from the arguing and just be… alone. Her thoughts wandered from how Harry and Ron were doing to the excitement of going back to Hogwarts. But, they all landed the same place they began: Draco fucking Malfoy. She cursed herself for agreeing to let him stay with her. But, she understood the reasoning behind it. Even then, why would she allow herself to let someone who she hated into her home? Because it was the right thing to do. There you go again with the right thing to do, she scolded herself. It could have been her wit or just her kind heart, but she couldn't distinguish between the two.

When she arrived at the shop, her main goal was to look for something accommodating for Malfoy. She questioned herself entirely, but once again, it was the right thing to do. She headed over to the men's section, looking for something black, anything black. She quickly spotted a few sweaters and pants for him, and grabbed them off the rack. Next, she grabbed boxers, socks, and t-shirts. It was as if she was buying him a whole new wardrobe. A part of her found this amusing, picking out clothes for a man. It was something she never really had gotten to do before. Now that she had, it was such a unique feeling. As she went to the checkout, she spotted some cologne that was their "signature product." As she waited in line, she tested it to find that she really enjoyed it. With a shrug, she put it with her load. Why not?

Draco hadn't heard her come in. He also didn't know how long he had been sitting in the shower, alone with his thoughts. The images of Dumbledore falling, or Snape's face, or the empty promise to protect his family were always in his mind. It was something he could not shake, no matter how hard he tried. Eventually, when the water began to grow cold, he decided to get out of the shower. He grabbed a soft white plush towel from the towel rack and dried himself off, feeling refreshed. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he went out into the hallway and then into his room to find sets of clothes on the bed. Surprised, he turned on the light, and saw with delight that they were mostly all black. The Mudblood had brought him clothes… For a moment, the realization confused him. Why? But, she had and that was that. Quickly, he put on a pair of clean boxers, black pants, and a light brown shirt.

Hermione was outside in her yard, reading a fairly older book about how Horcruxes were created. She was scribbling notes in the margins as she heard the sliding glass door open. As she looked up, she realized it was Malfoy, in the clothes she had bought it. He also looked like he took a shower. With a smirk hidden by the book, she went back to reading, and prayed he wouldn't start an argument out in the open where her neighbors could hear them. Instead, he walked over to the edge of the fence and leaned on it, looking out into the sky. She lowered her book to watch him curiously. It was almost evening, and the sun was setting where he was standing. A part of her wanted to be just a bit closer to him, as she was sure this was as vulnerable as she was ever going to see him. So, she put her book on the table, saving her place, and then took a few cautious steps in his direction.

He knew she was behind him, and he didn't care. She was probably wondering what the hell he was doing, and Merlin only knew… He was trying to distract himself. She had taken his wand, and besides showering and sleeping, there was nothing to do in this God-forsaken place. Merlin, he wished things were different. On any other occasion, he would have been back home with his parents to keep him company. But, here, there was only this stupid Mudblood. He turned back to face her, and she slightly jumped. His blonde eyebrows raised: this could be an opportunity.

"Did I scare you, Granger?" he asked. His grey eyes were cool, almost as if he was waiting for her to return, in an almost possessive manner. And that's what made her angry.

"No, you disgust me," she hissed back and turned away. Obviously, her gentleness went unnoticed, but at this point, she didn't care.

"Glad we're on the same page," Draco sneered. His eyes narrowed, watching her. She had retreated into the kitchen again, and he had picked up the pace to follow her. Why was he always following her?

It wasn't until he got into the kitchen that he realized he was hungry. It had been awhile since he had eaten. The Mudblood had begun rooting through the cupboards, but he wouldn't lower himself to asking her to make him something to eat. On the other hand, he hadn't any clue how to prepare a meal without using magic, so he was at her mercy.

"I can't believe you," Hermione said hastily, grabbing a few simple items and setting them on the counter. "We've done nothing but try to help you and you continue being a prick!"

"Tough shit," he replied. "At least I don't spend every waking minute with my nose in a fucking book or racking my brain for ways to help your two pathetic piece of shit friends!"

Hermione's eyes narrowed. Good, he had finally got what he wanted: a reaction out of her. Draco tried his best to hide his smile, but he could feel the edges of his lips turning up at the corners.

"I am done with this," she said and began to back away from him. "I am done listening to this repetitive nonsense."

"Repetitive nonsense? You mean the truth?" he replied, his eyebrows raising. "No, you aren't done listening because I'm not done talking." Hermione's lips clasped shut and she closed her eyes, preparing for his next insult. "You don't deserve your magic, Mudblood, and you know it. That's why you try to find the good in everyone, your courage, all of the stupid heroic shit you've done with Potter and Weasley – that all was just to prove yourself." Draco knew that he was getting to her, and it was bloody amazing, to have this feeling of power again. He continued, his tone smooth and collected now. "You know that people like you don't belong in my world. That's why your nose is continuously in a book, that's why for six fucking years I've had to hear you blurt out answers in class, embarrassing yourself in front of everyone, because you always know it all. Too fucking bad you don't."

"I enjoy reading and learning -" her pathetic comeback came.

"Because you feel the need to prove yourself. And you know you never will," he said, almost gleefully. He was undoubtedly certain that he had won this argument and the feeling was almost as delicious as food. "You know you'll never belong. It's time to realize that you, and everyone like you, truly are inferior to the wizarding world."

Smirking, he was glad that she provided him with something to do. At least there was always arguing to resort too, but there was nothing as delightful as winning. Still basking in his triumph, Draco didn't notice until the last second that Hermione had turned around and her fist was halfway to his face. He caught it in his hand just in the nick of time, his eyes wide and then narrow.

"No, I think you're done punching me," he said, almost too calmly.

But, there was a look of fire in her eyes, a look that made his insides grow hot. He didn't know it was coming until it happened: she had pulled out her wand and cast a silent jinx on him. Draco went flying back into the glass of the sliding doors behind him, crumpling with a groan. That was the second time in the past twenty four hours that she had done that to him. He looked up just enough to see her walking around the corner, and presumably up the stairs and to her room. It was the same thing he would have done.

As gleeful as winning arguments with her was, he would have to find something else to entertain himself. As he gathered himself up, he saw the boxes of food sitting on the counter and his stomach rumbled slightly. He'd never made Muggle food before, but as it seemed like his only option, he decided to give it a go. Merlin, she was infuriating, but so fun to argue with. He had never met someone who made his anger soar. It was aggravating, yet slightly intriguing.