The next day, Draco seemed to have made an effort to leave his room before noon. He sat in the living area writing in a small book and watching a movie that seemed dreadfully boring to Hermione, something with a minimal plot and a lot of unnecessary explosions. She wasn't sure if he made the effort because of what she had said the night before or if he was just becoming bored living in the same small space day after day. Either way, she was glad to see him moving around, even though it made her uncomfortable now knowing that they were officially living in each other's space. For the first little while they seemed to work actively to avoid one another; one would walk into a room and, if the other was there, settle on sitting outside on the small deck or in their room. Although they were going to great lengths just to avoid the company of each other, both still seemed to manage to intrude in small and yet somehow insufferable ways. Hermione would put things away that were just fine where they were originally, and made them impossible to find without tearing the place apart. Draco, after tearing a place apart, seemed to never clean up after himself. Hermione even found a pair of knickers on the floor in the living area one morning and had to walk circles around the cabin to avoid screaming at the filthy, unorganized bastard.

Little to no words had passed between them and yet they managed to frustrate each other into madness. She would scrub and he would mess the place trying to find something, a vicious cycle. So when Hermione walked into the kitchen to find dirty pans strewn about the place and empty boxes, her anger boiled over. She had almost cleaned it up before deciding that she shouldn't have to, and she yelled to him in an edged tone. "Malfoy! MALFOY!"

She heard hurried footsteps and Draco practically skidded into the room after running full force, his hand grabbing the frame of the doorway to stop himself short as he searched the kitchen for her with wide eyes. "What is it?" He rushed, his hand moving to his side instinctively despite the fact that their wands were still in the cupboard by the door. "What's wrong?"

Ignoring the curious pang she felt in her stomach at the idea that he almost seemed concerned for her, she pointed at the stove. "Can you explain this to me please?" He looked confused, but apparently the expression she held was enough to convey her distaste because his face hardened.

"What are you rambling about, I thought someone was in here-"

"Someone is in here," she interrupted, "I'm in here and I'm looking at a complete and utter mess because you are absolutely, positively incapable of cleaning up after yourself. I am TIRED of doing your dishes, I'm not the maid!"

Draco blinked a few times as if trying to comprehend why she thought this was an actual issue before he immediately shifted into a defensive mode. "Well I'm sorry I don't scrub everything down immediately after every use, I'll clean it up later!"

"Later isn't good enough, later never comes! What are you going to do, leave it sitting in here for hours until it starts to smell? We don't have one of your precious house elf slaves to pick up your dishes and socks for you, Malfoy!"

She seemed to have pressed a button, and his eyes flashed in anger. "You think I don't know that, I said I would clean it later, not everything has to be bloody spotless the second it's finished it's use! It's not my fault you're obsessive!"

Her jaw dropped and her face flushed heatedly. "I am not obsessive for wanting a clean bloody kitchen!" She had raised her voice, still pointing menacingly to the mess atop of the stove.

"What's wrong with you, I said I would clean it later! You're acting like a lunatic, scrubbing the place down all the time as if we're going to have the Minister drop in at any moment!" He yelled in return, and if she wasn't so angry Hermione might have faltered. She had never seen Draco raise his voice, the emotion of true anger always seemed below him. He preferred to sneer or spit insults instead, but she was far too furious to be taken aback by his shift in emotion. Her annoyance with him had been filled to the brim for days, and it was finally spilling over.

"I AM NOT A LUNATIC." She snapped back in fury, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "You're filthy! You leave your things lying around all the time, you barely ever clean up after yourself, and you just expect me to shuffle after you, cleaning up your waste-"

"I don't EXPECT you to do ANYTHING," he cut her off loudly, "you're just so bloody obsessed with keeping everything in it's proper place that you move things before I can even GET to them!"

"I wouldn't have to move things if you didn't pick them up faster, you drive me absolutely MAD, Malfoy! It's as if you don't even care that you're living with another person!"

She had apparently said enough. Draco's response was feverish and resounding, and it held a grievance behind it that made her suspect he had been thinking about the words for quite some time. "HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT'S DRIVING YOU MAD IF YOU DON'T SPEAK TO ME?"

The comment made her fall into a stunned silence, although it did little to curb her fury. Her mouth opened to remind him brazenly that he seemed to be making no effort in speaking to her in return, but he added an afterthought before she could.

"And I have a first name, perhaps it wouldn't poison you to use it!"

She blinked a few times, caught off guard yet again. Being on a first name basis with Draco Malfoy had never really been the case, and the observation from him was a strange one. Everything about him was strange. He was yelling but there was a fire in his eyes that she hadn't seen since they arrived, as if he came to life from a dead sleep. His pale skin was flushed in excitement and anger, platinum strands that were neatly combed aside fraying into his eyes. Everything about him seemed extraordinarily bizarre, and the request to use his first name just added more to the expanding list.

"Fine," she began in a quavering voice, quieter than before but still trembling in heated resentment, "it drives me absolutely mad, Draco, that you live like a troll."

Apparently it wasn't what he was looking for, because he gave a frustrated cry and threw his hands in the air. Turning his back on her, Hermione thought that he was about to leave the room completely. Instead he turned back and planted his hands on his waist. "Well it drives ME absolutely mad, Hermione, when you sit there and act as if you're better than everybody else just because you're neurotic enough to demand instant results."

"I am not neurotic for wanting a clean home!"

"This isn't a bloody HOME!" His voice spike again at the end, and he threw his hand out to gesture into the living area. "It's a bloody prison that you're holing me up in so I don't end up getting murdered!"

"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE STUCK HERE." Hermione's hands were trembling in outrage. "IF YOU THINK I WANT TO BE HERE TO BABYSIT YOU, MALFOY, THEN YOU ARE VERY SORELY MISTAKEN." Perhaps he was going to reply, but she didn't give him the chance to. She stormed past him, her shoulder colliding with his arm aggressively as tears threatened to burn in her eyes. She drove through the living room toward the front door and released an almost violent roar when she stepped on a movie case that Draco left lying about. She kicked it aside forcefully before throwing the front door open and raging off the patio into the front yard, only stopping when the air before her twisted in the threat of her crossing their protective barrier. She stopped and flopped down to sit in the grass and dirt, her fingers twisting wildly in her thick hair.

She was exasperated. Exasperated, and enraged, and everything in between, and she wasn't sure if she could do this. She had exploded at Draco, yes, but she was already feeling the culpability of doing so. It wasn't Draco's fault that they were stuck here together in such a small space, it was the people chasing after him, the monsters that wanted his blond head on a platter for naming names that the Ministry had no way of finding without his help. She missed her family and her work. Her friends, her home, and everything she loved was left behind because of this, and yes, she had unleashed all of that on Draco, and perhaps even he didn't deserve it despite the absolute pig he was. He seemed to have had suffered these past few years, there was something in him that was different and broken from the last time they encountered each other. Perhaps it was his pride, or perhaps it was his confidence. Perhaps it was both, but either way, she knew that neither of them wanted to be there, particularly with each other.

She cried a little at first, tears rolling down her cheeks until she wiped them away stubbornly, adamant not to be so upset over a little tiff with Draco Malfoy. She cried a little more after that, but not because of the fight. She grieved over the notion that she had no idea when she would see her parents again. She wondered what the boys were doing. She missed the Weasley's and the way that their home always smelled of something warm and inviting. She felt as if her life had been put on pause and the world around her kept moving, days continued to pass and lives continued to evolve while she sat there in the dirt, wishing only to be a part of it again. After that she could only stare out into the forest, at all of the trees and flowers that were just beyond their reach, and finally she settled in hugging her knees and watching the sun slowly sink down the canopy. How long were they going to be stuck here? When was Harry going to visit to check on them? When would she be able to stop feeling so very isolated? Lost in thought, she had barely heard Draco approach her until his dragon hide shoes came into view beside her.

She felt an uneasiness coil in the pit of her stomach, and she briefly wondered if he came out to yell at her again. It wasn't as if she didn't really deserve it, she had been a bit harsh, even she could admit, but she was in no mood to argue again. She felt fatigued already, and if an apology would make him go away she was more than willing to spew one out until he left her alone. He stood there for a few moments before shifting, and she glanced over to see that he was sitting on the patch of soil next to her before returning her gaze to the canopy before them. She considered asking him to leave but decided against it, afraid that she would spark a reaction out of him that she didn't care to handle at the moment. He seemed careful in his movements and she finally saw why; two mugs of tea were clenched firmly in his hands. He offered her one, and she almost gave him an incredulous look as if expecting him to splash the mug directly into her face before handing it to her. When she didn't take it immediately he continued to hold it out for her patiently until she finally conceded and wrapped her fingers around the handle. "Thank you." She muttered the words quietly over the rim of the mug before sipping softly, her eyes still trained on him to examine his face and see if he had done something to it. It was a light and floral flavor that she couldn't place, but surprisingly enjoyable, none the less.

"You're welcome." He returned in a soft tone. He treated the situation normally, as if he hadn't brewed tea for Hermione Granger, and that set her on edge even more than the tea itself had. His long fingers were wrapped around his own mug and he sipped it slowly, staring down into the swirling contents before adding, "I cleaned the kitchen."

She felt the bite of guilt again, and it quelled her suspicions just a bit. "Thank you."

"And the living room."

"Thank you." She said again, her cheeks a little flushed in shame as she sipped her tea again. She was still doubtful of the apparent peace offering, but the remorse was enough to keep her sharp tongue at bay. They sat in silence for a few moments. "I know that-"

"I didn't mean to-"

They spoke over each other. She finally turned her head to face him. "Sorry… you go first."

He nodded, his eyes moving up to survey the forest before them. "I didn't mean to snap at you. You're right, I'm not the only person being forced to be here and I don't take that into consideration often enough."

Hermione's eyes flickered in bewilderment. She wasn't positive, but she almost thought that his confession sounded like an apology. She wasn't sure what had happened to Draco within the past two years, but whatever it was had certainly changed him. Or crushed him. She didn't like thinking about which was more accurate. "It's fine," she settled cautiously, "I shouldn't have yelled. I just-" she trailed off. "Neither of us want to be here. I know this all must be very different for you."

He gave a dry laugh in response, one that didn't reach his dusty eyes. He continued to peer out into the trees. "Hardly." He broke his gaze to look back down at his mug, running a finger around the rim. "Believe it or not this is possibly the most contact I've had with another person in over a year." He looked back out at the canopy, and if he had noticed the stunned expression on Hermione's face he hid it well. "Things have been quiet."

She was unsure whether to prod or not, but her curiosity, as usual, got the best of her. "Well don't you have anyone to speak to?" She urged. "Anyone from school?" She immediately wondered if she had already pried too far because his face twisted into a scowl, but he shook his head faintly.

"I haven't kept in contact with anyone, no." He perceived that she was going to respond, because he quickly followed the thought with "not that I haven't tried." She fell silent again, the corners of her mouth tugged into a slight frown. "Everybody knows what I've done. Either I've had their family members apprehended, their friends, or I'm responsible for the death of them." He gave another sour laugh. "I think I've successfully accomplished being the only one who walked out of the war hated on both sides." He fell silent for a moment, but she could sense that he hadn't finished. "Sometimes I wonder if I should have just gone to Azkaban. At least then I'd still have my integrity intact."

The statement was an embittered one, she could tell. No one could possibly prefer to be in Azkaban, but the idea of being driven to consider it was a sad one in itself and things made a bit more sense now. Hermione clearly remembered that when Harry had done research on the Malfoy heir, he found it strange that Draco was pursuing no career and instead living off of his inheritance while his parents spent their time in prison. She had never considered that no one would hire a bloke with the title of a blood traitor and a former Deatheater all in one. It seemed blaringly obvious now that he had said it. It was, conceivably, the only reason he was out here now speaking to her. When you have no one to communicate with for so long, things like school year rivalries seemed trivial. Loneliness was a powerful incentive. "Well people must know that you didn't want to do the things that you did during the war" she protested weakly, the grip on her mug tightening. Draco shook his head.

"No one really believes that. I think the only reason the Ministry ever bought it was because I was the youngest one involved, they saw me as malleable. Easy to manipulate." He sounded bitter, but it was possibly because what the Ministry thought was the truth. He had been easily exploited. "Other's might know it but it doesn't really matter when they feel you've turned your back on them. Explanations always seem to be excuses in those cases." His eyes were going dark. "I think we should figure out a way to regulate chores around the place."

The sudden change of subject caught her off guard, but she didn't blame him. It was quite sad, all of it. She briefly wondered what Draco would be doing after all of this; perhaps sitting in a large manor alone. She didn't know when she would be able to go back to her life, but at least she had one to go back to. Draco, it seemed, had little to look forward to when they were finally allowed to leave their cramped little cabin. She finished her tea and balanced the empty mug on her knee. "I can make a chart of some sort." She offered, watching Draco closely. He nodded in approval and they sat in silence until the sun sank below the horizon, stars slowly flickering to life far, far above their heads.