Chapter Five
Muggle Town
"No, no, no! Send me to Azkaban! Send me back to the deatheaters for all I care, but I'm not living here!"
Hermione rolled her eyes as Dumbledore apparated them in front of a small, humble house that was two stories, and had a beautiful rose garden lining the front. But it wasn't the "cute" factor of the house that had Malfoy in such a foul mood. They were in a small Muggle town out in the middle of nowhere.
Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "You are allowed the great privilege of making your own choices. So choose wisely. You may stay here in the safety of a Muggle town, or you may make the choice of dying. Personally, I would enjoy having such an opportunity to live in such a nice place."
"This is called 'nice'? It only has two floors!"
He looked down at him meaningfully, something mysterious behind those blue eyes shone. "Sometimes you have to look beyond what is obvious to see true beauty. What is your choice, Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy sniffed indignantly, but stomped up the brick walkway to the front door. He wrenched it open, and disappeared inside. Hermione, and Dumbledore who looked pleased with himself stepped through.
They entered a quaint sitting room. There was a deep blue couch, two matching chairs, and a coffee table in the center. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall with a large bookcase beside it filled with lots of interesting books that Hermione made a note to return to later. To their right was a staircase, and in front of them was a door. It lead to a kitchen/dining room, and there was a patio door leading out to the backyard that she thought she would revisit later.
As they went back to the sitting room, Dumbledore made himself comfortable, and welcomed Hermione to check out the rest of the house while he rested. He looked a bit peaky, but she kept it to herself, and left him alone.
Hermione walked up the stairs, and saw a short hallway. To her left was a Slytherin bedroom. Everywhere there was green, and silver. To her right she spotted loads of red, and gold.
Inside her bedroom was a large bed, at least ten pillows, a dresser, a desk, and chair, and a window seat. She went straight towards the window, and peered out. It overlooked their backyard. There was a pond, and miles of an enclosing fence. She smiled wide, and thought hopefully. Perhaps Malfoy, and her could avoid each other successfully, and she could enjoy her time here.
She looked up, and noticed a door beside her desk. She poked her head in, and gasped. There was a large round tub with a spout that was the main for water, and the other five she knew was for different bubbles. At the base of the tub were an assortment of candles. There was a curtain, and a showerhead. A sink with a cabinet mirror above it. The whole room glittered white, and new. She was now sure that this stay wouldn't be so bad.
Hermione went downstairs, and sat that Malfoy had come back from his tour, and was sitting in a chair. She ignored him.
"The house is beautiful, Professor."
"I'm glad you like it."
"How long are we going to be stuck here," Malfoy asked rudely.
Dumbledore annoyingly pretended like he didn't hear. "I'm afraid to say that I don't know. Lets say that when Voldemort, and most of his followers are captured."
"That'll be forever!"
"We can never know. I apologize, but I must now be off. I entrust that you two will behave yourselves?"
Hermione nodded, "yes, sir."
"Suck up," Malfoy muttered.
Dumbledore nodded curtly back. "If you need me, owl me." And he left.
She felt a kind of hopelessness draw over her again, and she looked out the window to see if he had really gone. He had. She was now officially trapped in a house with her worst enemy. She turned around, and saw Malfoy stand from his slouched position in the chair. She didn't flinch as he stopped not a foot from her breathing his fresh breath on her forehead like he did at the lake before he was taken under. This time she could smell his musky cologne. It fogged her brain for a few moments, and she forgot whose scent she was inhaling. His drawling voice brought her back to reality, and she narrowed her brown eyes at him.
"We need to get some rules down here, mudblood. First of all, never, under any circumstances come into my room. Two; never touch my things. And for added measure, don't come near me." He strode over to the stairs, and ascended up them.
Hermione shot poisoned darts at him. How dare he accuse that she would ever go into his room, like she would want to! Like she would ever touch his grimy things. She let the anger pour over her, and followed him to the top of the steps, and grabbed his arm forcing him to look at her. She was pleased to see that he looked scared.
"Listen here, ferret, I would never go into your room, I would never touch your disgusting things, and I would never want to come near you. And here are my rules. One; don't come into my room, two; don't touch my things, and under no circumstances are you to come near me."
He snarled at her. "I think you're breaking rule three there, Granger." He jerked his head at his arm that she still held. She pulled her hand back quickly, and he laughed that sounded almost forced, and slammed the door to his room.
Off to a great start, Hermione thought sarcastically, and slammed the door to her own room. Now she would go into that bubble bath she had been tempted to take since she first saw the large porcelain tub.
Once in the bathroom she locked the door. Just in case. She turned on scolding hot water, and pressed one of the spouts for large blue bubbles the size of her head. With the tip of her wand she lighted the candles on the floor. She grinned at her work, and shed her clothing. Once in she sighed deeply the heat of the water relaxing her muscles turning her red. She could see on her shoulder that the steam was curling up from her skin. With the tip of her finger she popped the largest bubble.
An hour later Hermione was stepping out of the tub wrapping a fluffy white towel around her, a small puddle growing at her feet. She smelled lovely, like blueberries. Her room was darker than it was when she left it. Night was falling quickly over the sky, and she thought of the backyard she still had to visit. Seeing it through her window wasn't enough.
She slipped on boxers, and a halter top, pulling her bushy hair into a clip, a few curly tendrils falling around her face. She hopped down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Malfoy was at the table with a steaming mug of some concoction. He glowered at her as if daring her to say a word to him. She decided to pretend he wasn't there, as far as she was concerned that table was vacant.
Hermione felt the light breeze across her still hot skin. The patio was wooden, and painted white like the bricks of the house. There was an outdoor loveseat that she sat on. She looked over to the pond, her feet swinging not long enough to touch the patio floor. She watched the wind create gentle ripples across its surface. Night had completely covered the sky when she decided to go in. Malfoy had left the kitchen, and before she went into her room she took note that the door to his room was closed. Good, she thought, he's keeping out of my way.