A/N: I know it's been forever since I last updated but I had no new ideas until last week. So, here it is.

Day Five

Tilly woke up in a bed. She nearly jumped for joy. The room was different! It was considerably nicer than the last room, which was saying something because the last room was gorgeous. Her sheets were satin. The mattress felt like a cloud. There was a huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. This was obviously a room that usually housed someone other than the local prisoner.

Draco was serious about running out of room if he was putting her in this room.

She wandered aimlessly around the room. There was nothing. Nothing. Some books, bedroom furniture, a bathroom that was designed for a psych ward patient. Her new room was covered in protective charms, fire proof and flood proof. There was no door knob on her side of the door. She hated to admit it but she was running out of ideas.

How could there be nothing? How could she, Matilda Parker, have no ideas for chaos making? She didn't even have her purse to give her ideas.

Maybe a bath would help spark her synapses. She might as well; her bathroom was amazing, even if there was nothing destructive in it. Tilly filled the tub and soaked in the warm water. She had found lavender bath bombs and used as many as she'd thought she could without suffocating. Maybe she could kill Draco with her smell... or not.

Tilly lay in the tub until her toes and fingers looked like raisins. She finally got out of the tub when the water started getting cold. She swung her legs over the edge of the tub and stood up. The cold marble floor shocked her feet, making her muscles tighten involuntarily and her legs jerk. Then she was falling towards the marble floor.

She had forgotten to put down a mat. Tilly shot out her hand to grab onto something. The first thing her hand closed around was the towel rack in the wall. But instead of keeping her up, the towel rack ripped out of the wall and followed her crashing onto the ground. It must not have been built to stand a person's weight. Go figure.

Tilly lay on the floor feeling as sore. She stood up gingerly. Her tailbone ached. So did her elbow and her shoulders. She turned to look at the bar that had, a second ago, been a towel rack.

It hit her like a ton of bricks. The walls were just plaster! Tilly threw her clothes on and ran back into the bedroom.

Tilly grabbed a chair and drove the legs at the wall. The wall dented the first time. She pounded the wall again and again. The chair punched holes in the wall where the legs struck it. She started laughing. This was crazy but it was fun. She had no fire, no water but she could still cause chaos.

She turned to another spot on the wall and started attacking it too. She kept it up until the walls looked like a Dalmatian.

She stopped, when she was out of breath, and flopped onto the bed. Draco hadn't shown up. That was surprising. She hadn't been quiet either. Where was he? The only reason she was doing this was to drive him crazy.

Tilly lay on her back and stared up at the chandelier. It was beautiful. Tilly didn't have it on since it was bright out but the crystals sparkled in the sunlight. They sparked especially since the chandelier was swinging a bit from the force of her chair legs hitting the walls.

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, but after a while she heard a knock at the door.

Tilly was feeling too relaxed and frankly lazy, so she ignored it.

The knock happened again, louder. She knew it was Draco, but she really, really didn't feel like talking to him. She closed her eyes. She was feeling very Zen and he'd ruin it.

She heard the door open slowly, like someone wanting to look in but being afraid.

"Tilly?" Draco's voice asked hesitantly. Tilly didn't react. She was desperately holding on to her happy place as it slipped through her fingers and was replaced by carpeting and Draco's irritating voice.

"Tilly?" Happy place gone. Without opening her eyes, Tilly lifted her hand and stuck up her middle finger in Draco's general direction.

She heard him sigh. "You're fine," he said. "Why are you lying on the floor?"

"Because," she muttered, eyes still closed. Maybe she could shut him out and find her happy place again. She heard some shuffling, like feet on the carpet. She opened her eyes in time to see him lie down on the floor at 90 degrees to her. Hmm, interesting.

"What are you doing?" she asked him.

"The same thing as you are."

"No you're not," she said like you would to a child who'd just told you he was an elephant. "I'm trying to think of ways to drive you crazy. So unless you have a multiple personality disorder you'd like to share with the class..." she let the sentence trail off. He said nothing for a moment.

"I guess I'm trying to understand you," he said finally.

Tilly just scoffed. "Impossible."

"Why is it impossible?"

"Because you're uptight and self-centered."

"I am not!" protested Draco, sounding very uptight and self-centered. He propped himself up on an elbow so he could glare down at her. Tilly just laughed.

"No really, where do you get off insulting me?"

Tilly laughed again. "We're the same!" she pushed herself upright and looked at him. "You insult me and I make your life hell. It's a mutually agreeable relationship."

"In what universe?" he gasped.

"In the universe where you have no siblings or friends to do this with." She tipped her head and looked at his downcast face. She'd hit a nerve, clearly.

"You never had the chance to be a child," she continued in a softer voice. "While I've never truly stopped being one."

"I was a child," he protested, though he didn't sound convinced. "Everyone was a child at some point."

"Have you ever played in the dirt?" Tilly challenged. "I used to lift up rocks in my garden and watch the bugs underneath it squirm. Then I'd go into the house, filthy, and Mum would pretend to be impressed by my collection of worms and grubs. She'd listen as I told her all about my adventures that day with the bugs. And then she'd run me a bath and clean me up and we'd have supper." Draco still hadn't said anything or made eye contact. "Not much like your childhood, is it?"

"No," he said. "I fell off my broom once. I was six. I broke my arm and managed to stagger back to the house. My mother just looked...disgusted. I was dirty, bloody and crying. She didn't even give me a hug. She had a lunch to go to and she didn't want to get her clothes dirty so she just walked away. The house elf took me to St. Mungo's."

The silence descended over them again. Draco looked sad. Reliving the memory was clearly painful. There's a moment in every child's life when they realize that their parents aren't infallible. Not everyone remembers the moment but it's usually some degree of traumatizing. This was clearly Draco's.

"You know, that doesn't mean she doesn't love you," Tilly said, breaking the silence.

This stirred Draco into action. He stood abruptly. He straightened his shirt and smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers. A moment ago, he was six and innocent. As soon as he stood, he was seventeen and damaged again.

"Stop psychoanalysing me," he ordered. It sounded like he was forcing the anger into his voice, like it wasn't there naturally anymore. He strode to the door, back in control of himself. He paused on the threshold of the room and looked at the wall, noticing the damage for the first time. He flicked his wand and repaired the wall. All of Tilly's hard work was erased in an instant.

He slammed the door. As he began replacing the protective charms, Tilly lay back down again. The sun had moved so the chandelier didn't sparkle anymore. But Tilly knew that given the right circumstances it would sparkle again.