It felt like she'd swallowed a hundred lit matches. This morning she was on the cold floor of a cell she believed to be her tomb and now she was in Malfoy Manor, wearing real clothes and socks for the first time in a year. But none of that surprised her as much as what Draco Malfoy had just said.

Longbottom.

What happened in her year of isolation? Had the world spun off its axis? Or had Neville just simply seen what Hermione refused to see? That the world had gone dark and anyone hanging on to the light was a fool.

"Come now, Granger, or don't come at all," Draco's cold voice rattled through the halls like shattering icicles.

Hate built around her, bricks and mortar separating her heart from anyone or anything that could touch it. Hermione had been alone so long she didn't need the defenses but now that people lived in her world again she had to be protected. She couldn't start seeing Death Eaters like they were human. Even if one of them was Neville Longbottom. But she had to know? Had to see what had changed him.

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, Hermione followed Draco down the dark hallway, his hair a wisp of white ash, floating down from somewhere. Somewhere burnt. Charred. Devastated.

Draco Malfoy destroyed everything he touched.

He touched me.

Hermione followed Draco through the halls like dead fingers, down a flight of bony stairs and into the dining room. Black ceilings, black floor, black table, as if this one room absorbed all the light and color in the rest of the world.

The Death Eaters themselves were worse. Much worse. Like they'd stepped straight from a childhood nightmare. From Captain Hook's ship. Men with long greasy hair, earlobes pierced with bones, maybe goblin, maybe human. Women with rotten teeth, scarred hands. Cloaks of dragon skin or house elf skin... sick. Sick. Hermione wanted to run, to flee from the room, but Draco had his hand gripped firmly around her upper arm – and a wand.

Her gaze flicked to Draco. His perfectly-combed silk-fine hair, smooth skin, impeccable dress. How could a man like that be in a charge of this mess of people? Because he was a liar. A fake. Like the devil, he cloaked himself in fine things, in a twisted beauty, so he could draw you in just to break your spine.

Draco was worse than all of them.

Then she remembered why she was there. Neville. She had to find him. See his face. A friendly one, maybe. Her eyes played along the Death Eaters sitting at the table. She recognized Crabbe. Thick, with a bowl cut and black eyes. There was Pansy Parkison next to him, her formerly long hair cropped to her chin, making her face even rounder.

Draco sat down at the head of the table and guided Hermione to sit at the empty seat to his right. Her legs shook as she sat down in the first chair she'd been in for over a year. Across from her sat a scowling man with eyes trained harshly on her face. Grey, scrawling tattoos wrapped around his hands, disappearing under his black sleeve, reappearing like dead vines climbing up his neck and onto his face. A thick scar cut down over his eye, pink and raised. A gold hook bit into his lip. It took staring, staring, staring into his eyes to see who it was. That was him. Muscled, grizzled, dark. Like he'd been to hell and back. He probably had been.

Neville Longbottom.

Hermione couldn't tell if the burning in the pit of her stomach was anger, sadness or hunger. But it was a raging fire. What could happen that would turn kind, shy Neville Longbottom into this thing in front of her?

The food appeared before them. Roast chicken and boiled potatoes, green beans and buttery rolls. Her stomach did somersaults. It had been more than a year, probably two, since food this rich and savory had touched her lips. Maybe it was wrong, weak even, to the eat food. But she needed it. Needed, craved, her strength.

"Do we have any word on Potter's whereabouts?" asked Malfoy, betraying no emotion. The sound of her best friend's name on his lips, returned her focus to the dinner guests rather than just the dinner.

No one answered him.

Malfoy cut the atmosphere with the sharp blade of his voice. "Have you all gone deaf?"

There was a pause then Pansy answered. "No, sir. But do you... how can you expect us to speak freely in front of that?" Murky, vomit-colored eyes glared at Hermione.

"Yes. She has nowhere to go. No one to tell. No friends. She has nothing. Granger is here under the Dark Lord's order. If you have a problem with that, I can arrange a meeting for you to express that concern with him."

The blood fled Pansy's face, leaving her pale as skim milk. No friends. Hermione couldn't believe that. Didn't want to, but when she saw the deformed version of Neville sitting across from her, it was hard to believe the world was anything but a bloody broken mess.

Neville cleared his throat and began. "We have reports of Potter leaving France, heading east with-" Hermione swore she saw Neville's eyes soften and flicker to her. "Ron Weasley. Our intelligence says he's heading to Russia."

"Zabini, Crabbe. Leave in the morning..." Malfoy kept talking but it sounded like noise. At least she knew Ron was alive. Harry was alive. They weren't in custody or dead. At least not yet, though Hermione didn't like the idea that the Death Eaters knew where they were headed. But they could be wrong or... Neville could be misleading them.

Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to go down that road. Hope was a dangerous thing. A scary thing in this dark, dark world. Could there be good left in Neville after all? It seemed he wanted her to know about Ron...But still he was a Death Eater. He was helping Voldemort and could not be trusted. There was a chance though – no matter how small – that Neville was a – she could hardly let herself think the word – spy.

She had to know if there was any chance she wasn't alone here. That Neville had a plan, that there was still good left in the world. Hermione wasn't sure how she'd do it. It had been so long in that cell in the dark, so long without thinking, without a plan. But she had to find a way to talk to Neville alone. As soon as possible.

The first chance she got – the first time she was alone, she'd find a way to contact Neville. It might take time but she would have patience.

After dinner, Malfoy followed her back to the bedroom. His bedroom. The thought of sleeping in his room made her dizzy. It made her almost miss the cell. At least there she was alone. Protected by the fact that everyone had forgotten her – that it could not get any worse.

"You may take that shower now," Malfoy said as he opened the door to the bedroom. There was an adjoining door and as she peered through the crack she could see a brass claw foot tub and bottles of shampoo and soap lining a shelf. "I'll be waiting out here."

Hermione nodded, stepping toward the door, wanting even brief separation from the fist that clenched in her chest whenever Malfoy was near. His frosty hand closed around her wrist. He leaned in and his surprisingly hot breath burned her earlobe. Everything with Malfoy was flames or snow. There was no in between. "Don't even think about trying anything."

She tugged away from him. "Can I take a shower or not?" Hermione refused to look at him.

Malfoy paused. "Do you need help with anything?"

"I think I can manage to take a shower by myself."

His slender arm gestured effortlessly at the cracked door. She slipped inside and started to shut the door.

"Leave it slightly open, Granger."

Anger bubbling inside her, she slammed the door as hard as she could. Malfoy didn't say a word he just pushed the door back open, leaving a tiny hairline sliver separating the door from the wall.

Hermione slipped out of her clothes, turning on the water. She blinked away thoughts of early that day when icy bullets rained down her back, cutting into her skin. She tested the water until it was warm – almost too warm – and stepped under the spray. It felt so good on her skin, calming. Clouds of steam rose around her and she wished she could disappear into the moisture. Turn into little fragments of rain and melt into the universe. The shampoo was raspberry scented and the soap an earthy sage. The heat relieved her scarred and aching body. She slid to the basin, huddled with her knees to her chest. The world seemed too big now, overwhelming. She had grown so accustomed to four tiny walls, a tight, ever-closing floor and ceiling. There was strange comfort in the brass walls surrounding her. She ran pruned fingers over the smooth metal and tilted her head back, eyes closed. Soft water trickled over her face. Hermione wanted to crack her lips, let the water seep into her mouth and fill her up. Drown in the scent of raspberry and sage. Stop fighting. Stop hurting. Stop sto p. That was all she wanted.

But she couldn't. Harry and Ron were out there somewhere. There could still be good left in Neville. If they all kept going, where did she get the right to give up? Hermione turned off the water and stood. Her wet feet slipped on the tile as she made her way to the white towel. She dried herself and noticed that wedged in the door was a pair of pink pajama pants and a white t-shirt. She carefully slipped on the clothes.

Squeezing her hair dry with the towel, since she had no wand to perform a drying spell, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Malfoy leaned on the fireplace, small embers flickering. He held a lit cigarette between his lips, the smoke rising off and burning her nose. His white shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his pale chest. There were thin scars across his cut abdomen. Her gaze lingered on his lithe frame. Why was she staring? What was wrong with her?

He blew a puff of air from his mouth. "Want one?" Malfoy displayed his silver box of cigarettes.

"I don't smoke," she said curtly, forcing herself not to look at him.

"No better time to start." He slithered toward her, easily, smoothly, as if his feet didn't touch the ground. She felt so uneasy around him, like every emotion, every feeling, was heightened to the point of being almost unbearable.

"I said no, Malfoy."

There was a nook under the window where the moonlight shone into the room, washing over everything with its faint glow. A pillow and throw were tucked in by the glass. In her bare feet, Hermione slid over to the window and nestled against the clear barrier that kept her from falling, breaking, on the cobblestone walkway below.

"Sleep in the bed." Usually when Malfoy spoke, it was always with the air of a command, but there was an ease, a softness in his words that made her even more uncomfortable.

"I'm fine here," she sighed.

"Suit yourself." Malfoy's voice was slightly harsher. She tried to pretend not to watch him but she couldn't help it as he moved about the room, his open shirt and the thin, blond trail of hair that disappeared until the waistband of his pants. When his gaze moved to her, she realized he had noticed her watching him as their eyes met. She expected him to make fun of her, or smirk, or laugh. He didn't though. He didn't do anything.

"Do you miss reading?" he asked so quietly she almost couldn't hear him. At first she thought not to answer but the words just fell from her mouth.

"I do."

Malfoy's fingers skimmed along the wall, tracing the elegant design of the wallpaper. As he did, a short bookcase appeared beneath his hand. He slid a worn, leather-bound book from the shelf.

"This is my favorite. 'Let light not see my dark and deep desires.'" His lips played softly along the poetry as if God crafted them specifically to say those words. "Do you know?"

"Macbeth, William Shakespeare," Hermione replied, refusing to look at him, afraid that if she did, her seams would tear and she'd spill right out onto the floor. "I'm surprised you read muggle literature."

He moved closer to her, the dim light illuminating the sharp angle of his jaw. "Shakespeare was a wizard."

Hermione's brow knitted together. That sudden urge to correct flooded her, making her feel more like herself than she had in a while. "No he wasn't."

A smile whispered across Malfoy's face. "No. He wasn't."

She bit down on her cheek as Malfoy sat down beside her on the nook, looking out over the grounds.

"Do you have a favorite book?" he asked, flipping through the pages of Macbeth.

Hermione paused, trying to fight back the smile working its way on to her face. "Yes."

"Well, what is it?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.

Her tongue darted out and wet her chapped lips. "Breakfast at Tiffany's."

Draco shook his head. "Never heard of it."

"It was written by Truman Capote." Hermione thought about sitting in her bedroom, curled up in a window nook much like this one, reading the words under a blanket into the early hours of the morning. She'd read it every year until the war started.

"Hm," he said thoughtfully, standing, finally allowing Hermione to breath again. "We should sleep. Early day tomorrow."

"Early day doing what?" she asked.

Malfoy kicked off his shoes and shrugged the rest of the way out of his shirt. He folded the dirty shirt and laid it in a basket, then slipped the shoes into one of the perfect rows of identical shoes in the closet. Everything in order, nothing out of place.

Is that how you live with yourself?

Hermione curled up against the glass as Malfoy laid on the bed. She watched his lips cast a protective spell over his wand before he slipped it into his front pocket.

"Night, Granger, " he whispered.

She just shut her eyes. Shut him out. Shut the whole world out.

The next morning she woke up to the light and warmth of the sun on her face. For the quickest moment, she'd thought she was back in Gryffindor tower. That all of this had been a bad dream. But then she heard Malfoy's voice and remembered that she was still living in a nightmare.

Once again, he was dressed impeccably. Every crease in the right place on his black pants and cloak, his tie so tight she wasn't sure how he could breathe.

"Time to get up and get dressed, Granger. Your clothes are in the dresser. I'll step outside the door. You have one minute to change." Malfoy didn't want for her to answer, he just turned on his heel and disappeared out the door.

Hermione wished Malfoy would leave her for a just a little while longer so she could try and find a way to get a message to Neville but she needed more time anyway to figure out what she would say and how to do it without getting either one of them in trouble.

She quickly dressed in the tight black pants and green sweater. There was even a soft grey cloak. A kernel of excitement popped inside Hermione. Were they going outside?

Malfoy slid back into the room, the remnants of his last conversation, mumbled as he shut the door.

"Would you like to go outside?"

Yes. Yes. Merlin, yes.

Hermione shrugged.

"I think the fresh air could do you some good. You've got this crazy-eyed thing happening," he said harshly.

She set her jaw. "I've been locked alone in a cell for a year by the jackass you work for. Excuse me if I'm not up to your Malfoy standards."

Malfoy's glaring stare burned through me but he did not reply. Hermione found it only mildly strange that he did not reprimand her for insulting Voldemort. It wasn't like her opinion about him was any kind of secret.

"Follow me now, Granger."

Hermione trailed behind Malfoy as they weaved their way out of the maze-like Manor. She kept an eye out for Neville and caught only the briefest glimpse of him as they navigated around a tight corner, into the kitchen and into the back garden.

She gasped but didn't mean too. It was the most beautiful place she'd ever seen. There was topiary maze with frosted red roses, towering elm trees painted in snow. There were beds of all sorts of flowers and brightly colored rocks arranged in a sort of spiral. Ornately carved benches nestled within the beds and a silver fountain rained sparkling water.

"I adored this place when I was young." Clouds seemed to melt across Malfoy's eyes. "I'd even sleep out here during the summers."

Hermione smiled, trying to ignore the way the sun seemed to hit Malfoy's face and make it glow.

"It's well... groomed," said Hermione when what she really wanted to say was that it was spectacular, breathtaking, beautiful. Everything she thought was no longer part of the world.

"I have this for you," said Malfoy, reaching into his cloak. It was a black book with an grey design on the leather cover. He handed it to Hermione and she took it slowly.

It felt weirdly hot against her fingers and she had the urge to hold it very carefully as if it was prepared to explode at any moment. "What is it?"

"I figured you missed reading."

Hermione didn't reply just flipped back the cover and scanned over the title.

The Principles of Dark Magic.

A violent heat rushed to Hermione's cheeks. How could he- what did he think- "What is this?" She snarled.

"I thought you of all people could recognize a book."

"I know it's a book, Malfoy. It's a book of Dark Magic. I'm just wondering why you'd give garbage like this to me."

Reacting only by drawing his brow in tighter together, he said almost under his breath. "It's not garbage."

She waved the book in her hand, a sudden wave of energy rushing through her. "What did you think? You could give me some food and a warm place to sleep, show me some pretty flowers and I suddenly want to have anything to do with this? Dark magic is disgusting, a violation of our gifts. I'd rather be dead."

"You don't mean that," he said.

"Yes. I do." She stepped towards him. "Better dead than anything like you." Hermione hurled the book Draco had given her into the fountain. It sank with a splash. She shoved past him, but he grabbed her arm and threw her against the wall. His tall, powerful frame had her pinned against the stone. Hermione held her breath, unable to think with him so close to her.

"If you want to do this the difficult way – fine." He growled in her ear. "But you will do as I say. One way or another."

Thanks for reading. It looks like Hermione should have been a little more tactful around Draco... he's got some interesting things planned for her. We'll have to see if and when Hermione finally gets to talk with Neville. Also, there will be some more about what Harry and Ron are up to next chapter. Please review and thanks for all the follows and reviews on the first two chapters!