I do not own any of the characters or story line of Harry Potter, and all credit goes to J.K Rowling, the legend herself.

Please enjoy reading this, any comments or feedback is most appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter Nine.

Hermione awoke the next morning, her eyes slightly squinted. She forced open her eyelids, but could not see for the humble, glowing light that blinded her. Raising her hand to block the light, Hermione shifted slightly from the position she had fallen asleep in and not moved from. Her neck ached, feeling stiff and tight from sleeping in such an awkward way. She stretched her arms out infront of her, and then retracted them instantly, remembering she had left her book close to her, balancing on the armrest. To her surprise, Hermione found the book was not in it's former place, like she had been, and instead, lay closed on the table infront of her. Still squinting, alongside a furrowed brow, the Gryffindor looked around the room, her eyes adjusting to the light, looking for it's source. And then she found it. Along the back wall, where there had once been a bookcase, there was now three, tall, arched panes of glass, set back into majestic stone fixtures. It looked exactly like the grand window in the Gryffindor Common room. Infact, it was almost identical, a replica. Hermione frowned. She was certain that it had not been there the day before. Stretching her limbs, Hermione stood, and made her way over to the window. She smiled, noticing the sunrise to signal a new dawn, and looked out over the grounds of Hogwarts. It was a perspective Hermione had never seen the land from. It was almost as though she was in a small room at the forest's edge, surrounded by trees with an outlook onto the Herbology huts and Hagrid's cabin. It was almost peaceful.

Hermione's peace, however, was interrupted, when she heard a muffled grunt from behind her. She turned, breaking from the first moment of bliss she felt she had had in years, and noticed the blonde Slytherin, lay carelessly on the armchair near the fire, snoring lightly. His legs were propped upon the table, ankles crossed, and his head was lolled back onto the chair's peak in a heedless fashion. Hermione eyed his disheveled uniform; an emerald and silver, striped tie, hung loosely around his neck and his shirt partly undone, showing a small expanse of muscular, toned chest. Draco was tall, and rather lanky, and so his body weight distributed evenly over his frame. He was not a machine, built like one of the wrestlers Hermione had seen on a muggle program, and was considerably smaller than Dean, and a few other of the Quidditch players she knew, but he was still remarkably strong. Hermione eyed his muscular arms, exposed by his rolled up sleeves. His frame did not bulge against the thin of his shirt, but the white cotton did fit his body rather snugly, as did his tailored, black slacks. She sighed heavily, remembering she was not alone in this room. Draco's snoring faded into steady breaths. Hermione glanced up to his face. In his sleep, with his aristocrat features relaxed, and no trace of a sneer or scowl, the blonde looked rather peaceful. Shame, the Gryffindor thought, whilst inspecting his slightly ruffled blonde hair, and flawless pale skin. As angelic as he looked, Hermione knew the Demon inside of Draco. Suddenly, she remembered why exactly she was confined in here.

Though Hermione's wish for a window was, for some reason, granted, her undying need to escape the four walls of the Room of Requirement was not. Breaking away from her newly gifted window, Hermione made her way towards the wall in which an under appreciated door had once stood. She traced her fingers over the delicate stone, closing her eyes and wishing with all she could focus that it would reappear. When that didn't work, Hermione tried pressing gently on each stone. Maybe one was a trigger? Maybe if she pushed the right one, the door would appear once more. The Gryffindor was lost in her thoughts and theories. She'd even considered a special code word that she had come across but not understood. It was no use.

"It's not going to appear, Granger," Hermione heard a low, silky voice call from behind her.

She turned, withdrawing a large breath, and eyed Draco. He rubbed his eyes gently, and smoothed back his platinum locks into their regimented style.

"How courteous of you to notice, Malfoy," the Gryffindor replied, folding her arms with judgement.

"Maybe you should consider re-reading that book you learnt about this room in," he said, squinting in a fashion much like Hermione had done, and eyed the window skeptically, "This place seems to be full of surprises."

"I've read it a thousand times," Hermione continued, ignoring the boy's confusion, though Hermione was just as confused.

"Another time wouldn't hurt then, huh?"

Draco chuckled, and stood. He stretched his arms, high above his head, and stood on his tip toes. Hermione noticed his muscles contract under the fine cotton of his shirt. She looked away instantly, not wanting to see the factors that made Draco presume he was some sort of Greek Adonis. Instead, Hermione made her way towards the sofa opposite from him, and took a seat. She reached out for the book on the table, and brought it back to her arms as Draco sauntered over to the window. Hermione watched him through narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. She was growing tired of his smug attitude already. Opening the crisp, yellowed cover of her book, Hermione began skimming through the pages. She had forgotten to place some sort of reminder as to where she was up to, and instead, had fallen asleep. She turned the pages rapidly, until she reached one near the middle seam, and noticed something small fall out of it's hold. Taking, what appeared to be a small square of parchment, in her hands, she turned the paper over delicately, and read the two words wrote neatly on the other side.

Sorry, Granger.

Hermione's eyes instantly flickered to the tall boy stood beside the window. His hands were clasped behind his back in a polite manner, and the orange-hue glow of the early sun lit up his face. Draco's brow was slightly furrowed, but the rest of his face was rather relaxed. His eyes skimmed slowly, in large motions as he took in the view from the window. Hermione felt her stomach perform a light sort of flutter, as an uncontrollable smile made its way across her face. She dismissed it instantly, looking at the bold bruises on her wrists. They were more visible than yesterday, but Hermione supposed that was because they were at their peak. They would be faded by tomorrow, as would the memory of the incident that had taken place between them. They would leave no visible scars, but Hermione was certain she would not forget the vacant look in Draco's eye. And he was sure he would possibly never be rid of memories of the fearful expression that he had caused Hermione to sport. Hermione had never heard Draco say sorry in his entire life, to herself or anybody else. And although he hadn't specifically said it, Hermione understood.

"A window," Draco broke the silence, with a slight scoff, "What an insignificant, stupid thing to be given."

Suddenly, Hermione had forgotten any kind words she had thought or said concerning Draco Malfoy. He turned to face her. Hermione noticed he'd fixed his tie and done the buttons up of his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled, mind, but Hermione knew that Draco was all too prudent to wear clothes that showed creases, and were not neatly pressed or ironed. He looked like his usual self. A tall, unfortunately well dressed, aristocrat man who found release in showing his inner child by bullying his peers.

"I concur," Hermione said through gritted teeth, eyeing the Slytherin as he wandered over to the first door that had remained untouched.

"Of course you do," he murmured, hands still behind his back, "I doubt there is a day on this Earth we will ever agree on anything. And i'd like to keep it that way."

"Well don't you want to hear my reasons?"

"No, not particularly," Draco replied, squatting before the door to examine the handle, "But being the goody-two-shoes-Granger that you are, I suppose you will tell me."

"I don't suppose you've noticed that no time is present in this room?" Hermione began, "No clocks, nor my watch work. There is no indicator of time. Light, however, is a constant indicator of time. The position of the sun in the sky gives us a relative idea of what time in the day it may be. Therefore I think a window very valuable. That's also why I wished for it."

Draco was inspecting the hinges of the door. He turned, however, at Hermione's last comment, and faced her with a quirked brow.

"You wished for it?" He said, speaking to himself mainly, "So I was right?"

Hermione's brows furrowed in confusion. Draco had that signature smug look growing across his face as he leaned against the oak of the door, arms folded.

"No, Malfoy, as I just explained, the window is important-"

"-I didn't mean that," Draco interrupted, shaking his head at her imbecilic ways, "I meant I was right about talking to the room. If you talk to it, wish for something, then it answers you."

Hermione rolled her eyes,

"No, I don't think it's as simple as that," she said, receiving a slight scowl from the boy across the room, "If that was true, when you asked for the door it would've appeared."

Why was she always right? Draco thought with frustration. He gritted his teeth, attempting to show no signs of disappointment.

"So then why, when you wished, did you get what you wanted? Are you the new chosen one or something?" he said, a little more coldly than he anticipated.

Hermione pursed her lips at Draco's sly remark. She felt her heart wrench a little, though, as she thought of Harry. And Ron. She hadn't seen them for almost a day. Surely they must be searching for her? Wondering where she was? It had been twenty-four hours and Hermione had not attended one class. That in itself must have raised concern. But she felt as though that was not worthy of worrying over. She was helpless, there was nothing she could do anyway.

"I don't know," Hermione sighed, admitting defeat, "But I'm starving. And I need the toilet."

"Me too," Draco grunted, leaning his head back against the door.

Hermione glanced up from her book, eyeing Draco curiously.

"I thought there was not a day on this Earth that we would agree?" she said, mocking the Slytherin's earlier statement, "First you apologize, now you agree with me. Should I be taking note of the newly, kind hearted Malfoy?"

There was a distinct twitch in Draco's cheek. He'd just about forgotten he'd slipped that note into Hermione's book. And it was true, he had just agreed with her. He felt the anger rise inside of him.

"That does not go out of these four walls, understood?" he growled, staring at Hermione with cold, stormy eyes. He reached for the handle on the door to rest upon.

"If we even get out of these four walls,-" Hermione began, but stopped abruptly.

Draco lost his balance, a slight expression of worry taking over his face. His full body weight fell against the door as it shifted behind him, and much to both Hermione and Draco's surprise, swung open. Draco's footing faltered slightly, as the door opened to it's fullest degree, and he reached beside him in hope of finding something to support his weight. Luckily, Draco felt the smooth surface of a hard wooden frame under his grip. Hermione, wide eyed and open mouthed, threw her book aside and slowly rose out of her seat to get a better view. Draco stood, with an expression much like Hermione's, hand on a small wooden chair, one of four, around a dining table. Behind the setup was a very small, one fridge, one counter, and one cooker kitchen with light oak cupboards above the worktop. To the left, was another small door, this time with a misted window on its upper half.

Draco glanced at Hermione, who could merely meet his gaze. She furrowed her brow and blinked repeatedly, finally finding the will to move her legs and walk in Malfoy's direction. He stood and smoothed his hair back, regaining his composure. He watched as Hermione traced her fingers along the dining table, and stood opposite it, juxtaposed to Draco.

"The door opened," she said lightly, still with her mouth slightly agape.

"Yes I can bloody well see that, Granger, thankyou for pointing it out," Draco snapped.

Hermione wet her lips with a swift movement of her tongue. Draco watched intently as she repeatedly pursed her lips and then opened them, as if about to say something. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, what did you do? You must have done something, how did the door open?" Her words came out in a blur.

"I leant on the fucking handle and it just opened!" Draco said loudly, running a hand nervously through his hair.

Hermione took a seat at the table, and swiftly placed her hand on her head in thought. Draco took this time as his liberty to look around his new surroundings. He stalked over to the fridge, and opened it. It was full to the brim with everything you could wish for, from bacon to Pumpkin Pasties. He shut the door, though still slightly in awe, and opened the cupboards. They were completed with stacks of plates and cups, all with a red and green decorative pattern around their perimeter. He closed the door, which groaned in response, and made his way over to the door on the left wall. Draco reached for the door handle and turned it briefly. The Slytherin huffed in response as it refused to open. He hadn't really expected it to. Raising a hand to the misted glass, Draco narrowed his eyes in attempt to see. It was mainly a blur, but the interior of the room on the other side seemed to be mainly an off-white colour, with hints of red and green set to one corner. Swiftly returning his hand to his side, he turned on his heel, and made his way across the grey, marble floor, towards the counter near the fridge, which had a small, white fruit bowl in it's back corner.

"I thought you said you were hungry," Draco commented, reaching for the ripe, green apple on top of the pile of fruit, and taking a large bite out of it.

Hermione turned to face Mafloy at the sound of the crisp crunch. She eyed the apple with a frown, and noticed him chewing contently on it's substance.

"How can you eat at a time like this?" she said, looking at Draco incredulously, who merely swallowed in response, "Aren't you just the slightest bit confused and intrigued as to why the door opened? Why the room let us in now?"

"To be honest," Draco replied with a slight tone of sarcasm as he leant against the counter, "In the ten seconds I've been in here, this new room which has been granted to us, no. The thought didn't tend to cross my mind, nor did I ponder on it."

"Well luckily for you, I have a theory," Hermione said, lifting her chin with confidence.

Draco rolled his eyes and made his way over to the chair on the opposite side of the table to the Gryffindor. He pulled out the frame, which gave a screech as it moved across the floor, and sat heavily on it's contents, resting his feet on the chair beside him.

"Oh, how God has blessed me," he said, with more sarcasm than his last comment, "Do enlighten me, Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips as he took another large bite out of the apple held firmly in his hand. She eyed his harsh grip, and felt a small throbbing in place of the bruises on her wrists. Merely swiping away the thought, Hermione prepared to deliver her theory which she presumed would not sit well with Draco.

"Well," she began, her voice a little less confident than she'd hoped, "Don't you think it's a little," she paused, fumbling for the correct word, "-Peculiar, that you apologize to me, and suddenly there's a window in the other room, and we agree on the first thing in our entire life, and suddenly the door is magically unlocked?"

"What're you trying to say, Granger?" Draco said, after swallowing his apple.

"I just think that; twice we have been civil with eachother, and twice we get something that one of us, or both of us, want."

Draco fell silent for a moment, as did Hermione. It was an uncomfortable silence, really. Neither of the two knew what to say. The only noise was Draco's nonchalant chewing, which was beginning to grate on Hermione. She rolled her eyes and glanced around the room. In all her time at Hogwarts, she'd never come across this little room that she'd been in. It wasn't in the Gryffindor common room, and she wasn't aware of it's location. Hermione's train of thought was disrupted, however, when she heard that familiar screech and noticed Draco swing his legs down from the chair beside him. He stood, throwing the half eaten apple in the air, and catching it perfectly. With his back turned to Hermione, he began walking towards the way he had come in.

"Where are you going?" Hermione found herself suddenly say. She supposed there was very little else where Draco could be going other than the room next to them.

"Away from you," he replied, continuing to throw his apple in the air and catch it.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said, staring at his back incredulously.

He turned slowly, and leant against the door frame. His expression was a mixture between amusement and judgement, as his cold stare evaluated Hermione up and down. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable, and pursed her lips instantly in embarrassment. She felt the heat rise on her cheeks, and was sure Draco could see an obvious blush.

"Just because you came up with some theory," Draco said calmly, emphasizing the last word, "Don't expect me to be nice to you."

He took a large bite out of his apple, and turned gracefully, making his way back into the other room.

The fire was burning happily, and the light through the window was that of a soft, red glow, as the sun set behind the outline of Hagrid's hut. The days seemed to be passing quickly in the room. It was no sooner sunset from the moment Hermione had watched the sun rise. The Gryffindor and Slytherin had been attempting to spend as little time together as possible. Now, with another room available, they were able to distance themselves from one another. Neither of them had any intention of spending more time together than they had to. Draco had spent most of his day in the kitchen, inspecting the fridge -and eating most of it's contents, Hermione had noticed,- whilst finding some interest in the windowed door that was locked. Occasionally, he would visit the room Hermione was in, and gaze out the window for a few minutes. Hermione had taken advantage of the books the shelves had to offer. To her surprise, they had both muggle literature and wizard literature. Fiction, Non-fiction, and textbooks. As the day had come to a close, Hermione was in her newly-default position, curled up in a ball on the red armchair where Draco had sat. She yawned slightly, allowing the fire to comfort her as it often did, oblivious to Draco, who seemed to have finished his work in the kitchen, enter the room.

Malfoy eyed Hermione with a smirk. She'd been reading the same book for the past hour or so, her nose practically touching the page.

"Granger," he sighed, sitting on the sofa before her, "Reading a book for the rest of your life does not mean it will become your life."

"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid," she said, not once disturbing her attention or taking her eyes off the page.

Draco's eyebrows knit together in thought. What Granger had said sounded almost familiar.

"Jane Austen?" the Slytherin asked, relaxing back into the sofa and spreading his arms along it's length.

Hermione finally looked up from her page, just as she was about to turn it. Her eyebrows were ever so slightly furrowed, like Draco's had been, and Malfoy could almost sense a suppressed smile growing across her once pursed lips.

"Correct," she said, eyeing Draco as if it was the first time he'd ever been right in his life,

"-Why the tone of surprise?" he questioned, crossing his ankles above a stack of books on the table and arching an eyebrow in an arrogant manner.

"I'm impressed by your muggle knowledge, is all," Hermione finally replied, turning the page fully and folding the corner of the paper as a reminder.

Draco eyed her fold and internally shook his head. It was a habit he really had no reason to despise, but did so anyway. The folds ruined the beauty and crispness of the pages. Coming across an ancient fold in the surface of knowledge and entertainment, was just a reminder you were one of many people who had read this book, time and time again. Nothing special. He glanced back to Hermione, who was still analyzing him incredulously, her eyes slightly narrowed in thought.

"The person," Draco began, taking on a tone of authority, mocking Hermione's earlier statement, "-Be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid,"

Hermione pursed her lips once more with a sigh of defeat, but there was still an air of amusement to her expression,

"-And I for one," he continued, raising out of his seat, "-Find reading about nothing more than magic, and spells, and factual knowledge, rather boring from time to time,"

Once again, Hermione found it hard to disguise the smile that was begging to be shown in admiration for the blonde. Things like this, things she'd learnt about Draco over the past few days, never failed to shock her, yet at the same time, surprise her positively. She watched as he made his away around the coffee table, advancing towards the gap between the second sofa and the armchair in which Hermione sat.

"Oh, and also," he lingered in the small gap as he reached Hermione's side, leaning backwards slightly,

"-You might want to invest in a bookmark," he said finally, unfolding the small triangle in the corner of the page that lay open, and smoothed out the crease with his thumb.

Hermione watched as he did so, shaking her head slightly at his neatness, but this time allowing a smile to widen her lips. Draco looked from the book to the face of the Gryffindor he towered over. He noticed her small grin, and felt his lips twitch. In the back of his mind, Draco wanted to smile too. Maybe at her unnecessary amusement. Or maybe he wanted to smile with her, as they pondered over the thought of his strange distaste for the habit. Instead, Draco attempted to keep his face in the monotone, emotionless expression he so often did, as Hermione looked up to see the boy lingering near her. Draco returned his hand to his side smoothly, and glanced at her for a final moment. Hermione couldn't deny it, in the deceivingly small period of time she looked at Draco, she'd almost seen another side to him. And as he turned to go wherever he may have been going, she was sure she'd caught the left side of his mouth curled up into a half suppressed smile.

A/N: I'm so sorry! I know I didn't post yesterday, but I was super busy, and tired, and didn't want to butcher the chapter, which I hope I haven't done anyway. I'd love to hear your ideas for future chapters, as I've completed all I had planned, and I'm slightly winging it now.

Don't forget review, good or bad, all feedback is appreciate and really motivates me to continue writing.

Thanks, Amelia x