By morning the rain had stopped, but a thick blanket of steely grey clouds remained. Draco arose with purpose and excitement like a child on Christmas. There was no sign of Hermione in the main living quarters. Perhaps she had tried to escape, perhaps she succeeded. No, not under this security. She must have took his offer and found a bed to occupy. He searched guestrooms on various floors until he found her.
She had chosen the smallest of all the rooms, one with silvery textured wallpaper, and a four poster bed. Laying on top the duvet, she slept quietly with her face obscured by a mess of hair. An urge to brush it aside surprised him, he resisted it. For a moment he watched the strands flutter from her breathing, but his gaze seemed to stir her, and he didn't wish to be caught looming. What would she think, he had been admiring her?
Improvising, he greeted her boisturously. "Good morning, Granger, hope you're rested."
Her eyes popped open and she recoiled. "Do you mind?" Her voice was raspy with sleep.
"You're hardly indecent. That's what you were wearing last night. I suppose I could have mentioned the armoires are enchanted to provide each guest with appropiate clothes customized to their size. Do change out of those rags before breakfast."
She didn't look offended. "It must be easy to remain well dressed when you're afforded the luxury of not being on the run," she retorted.
Tugging at her shirt so it covered the bare inches of her exposed stomach, she slid off the bed. Finding proper nutrition was also a reserved luxury for those not on the run, apparantly. She was much thinner now than he remembered.
"Bathe as well. Breakfast will be served when you're through."
To amuse himself as he waited, Draco used his wand to form intricate shapes in the steam rising from his teacup. Three quarters of an hour passed but he did not dine without her. He may have inteherited arrogance from his father, but he had learned manners from his mother. As he was trying to find symbols in the dregs of his tea and pondering the idiocracy of divination, she arrived at last.
"You must have really enjoyed the bath, perhaps it's a nice change from washing in a mop bucket?" A snide comment before noon should set the tone for the day.
"Implying I've never properly bathed before, clever," she said. "For your information though, I got lost. It's as if the rooms have all moved since last night."
"Oh, They have," he assured her. "Just a precaution, I can't have some traitor go and give the layout of my dwellings to the enemy."
Choosing the seat at the opposite end of the long dining table, she sat and allowed the house elf to drape a cloth napkin over her lap. It then filled her plate with poached eggs, ham, and frenchtoast, before pouring her tea and juice. She thanked it excessively.
"How long must I stay here?" She asked as she began to eat a bit ravenously.
"My, eager to leave, are you not?" He asked without answering her question. "Tell me, how much progress were you making out there, eh? What was your plan? Did you have a destination?"
He was genuinely curious. Having been within the walls of the manor for some time, and with no one he called a friend to tell him stories of the outside world, he had remained in the dark. Death Eaters dropped in occasionally, but simply out of habit. Since his father had gone to Azkaban, and his mother found remaining in the manor unbearable, Draco had been its sole inhabitant. He only guessed that the non purebloods and Dumbledore supporters were still suffering, either on the run, in hiding, or like the one in front of him, getting themselves captured. Realizing she had chose to completely ignore his question, he cleared his throat.
"I heard you, it's just none of your business. Why would I tell you?" She asked.
"Why not? I'm merely curious as to how someone of your kind has survived on their own."
"I wasn't always alone. However, I am more than capable of taking care of myself, so save your concern."
"Concern? Ha! You've mistaken."
"Have I?" She asked, tilting her head slightly.
The gesture nearly made him question himself. He shook his head slightly, hoping she hadn't noticed him falter.
"You know what I think?"
He didn't want to know, honestly.
"I think you're doubting yourself, your choices, having landed in such a predicament. Perhaps you're even feeling a bit resentful, being born into a family that bases everything around the purity of your bloodline and requires you to serve a master who uses you like a puppet."
She looked him dead in the eye when she spoke, confident in her words. To think, he had once believed her to be a meek.
"I don't resent being on the side of power, that's for damn sure!" He tried to put force behind his words, but they fell flat.
She smiled, and he lost it. Rising gracelessly from the table, he walked past half a dozen empty chairs to reach her. She stood up as well.
"I won't allow you to make a mockery of me," he snarled.
"Mocking you? I'm merely curious." She echoed his own words back to him in such a falsely sweet voice that she surely must have learned it from him.
"Brave little Gryffindor, aren't you? How many times now has that sharp tongue has gotten you in trouble?"
"I would rather be condemned for speaking my mind than conforming just to feel safer, or to appease my parents. Honestly, Mafoy. I always thought you more of a rebel than that."
"You don't know anything! You haven't any idea what I am capable of, stop fooling yourself!" He yelled, slamming his hand on the table so hard the china dishes rattled.
Who the hell was she to push his buttons? She was forcing his hand, making him prove himself. Seizing her by the wrists, he drew her nearer to his face. She struggled to remove herself from his grasp. When he was unwilling to clutch her fragile wrists any tighter, and she slipped free, abandoning her food all together as she stormed away. Before she was across the room, there was a loud pop, and the stranger who had come with Scabior last night apparated before them.
"Mastor Malfoy, sir, I've come to retrieve the girl," he said in a greasy sounding voice. "I told some of the others about her and they suppose she could be interrogated for information, something useful. It'd be smart to learn why she was running, aftee all."
The man turned and looked at her with a greedy expression on his face, he was almost licking his lips with anticipation.
Draco clinched his fist, seething with an anger different from what he was feeling a moment before. He did not like being lied to. Being highly skilled in leglimancy, within seconds he was certain of the fucker's true intention.
"Is that so?" Draco said cooly, playing along.
"Yes sir, they want her brought in at once."
Fear bloomed in her eyes, and to Draco's surprise, she inched closer to him, he could feel heat coming off her body. Were her insides on bloody fire? No, he mustn't be distracted. This could work to his advantage.
"Well then," Draco said, clapping his hands together, "by all means, take her."
She looked scandlized when Draco stepped away and gestured toward her. As the man reached for her, Draco knew there were only seconds, but he would wait. The man closed a grimey hand around her upper arm.
"Get you're bloody hands off me!" She shrieked.
"There, there, girlie. Best to not struggle," he said. His leer exposed rotting, yellow teeth.
"You won't," she looked quickly back to Draco, "you won't let him have me!"
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"My sincerest appriciation, Mastor Malfoy, and good day to you, sir."
"Please!" She said more frantically now, "please, let me stay! Draco, please!"
Ah, the magic word, and in the knick of time, too. Draco hadn't ever had any intention of letting that sick fuck have her for his own personal use, but he thought Granger would benifit from having to ask to stay. What Draco hadn't anticipated was the sort of fire that was ingited within him upon hearing his name on her lips for the first time.
Draco had the man on the floor before he knew what hit him.
"Stupefy!" He bellowed, drawing his wand at lightening speed and aiming directly at the man's throat. She fell into Draco with the sudden force of being released. He steadied her, and went to stand over the man, aiming his wand at his head.
"Are you going to kill him?" She asked.
He looked over his shoulder at her. He could if he wanted to, but no, this was better. "Obliviate" he said quietly. The mans eyes went blank momentarily.
"I will get rid of him, wait for me the foyer."
She obeyed. Draco felt strange. Perhaps it was because she seemed so coveted by another, perhaps he wasn't fond of the man attempting to steal what wasn't his. Maybe it was that she chose him, Draco, the lesser of the two evils. But when he looked inside that foul creature's mind, and it was confirmed what Draco had already suspected, an instict to protect Hermione coursed through his body. He wanted to stomp that man's face and break his fingers to ensure he would never again lay a finger on her, but he resisted. Instead, Draco summoned the house elf and commanded it take and leave him somewhere far away. The elf obeyed, and Draco composed himself before entering the foyer.
She was leaning on the billiards table with her head down. He checked his pocketwatch out of habit while he thought about what to say, but nothing came to him. Perhaps he had been alone here too long now, and forgotten how to interact with people. She noticed him and looked up. Her dark eyes were shining and red, he again felt the urge to reach out and touch her, but compromised by walking forward to stand next to her. Draco hoped his thought ls weren't showing on his face as plainly as hers were. He had protected her, that was enough. She deserved no more than that, he told himself.
When she spoke, her voice was unlike he had heard it before. It was deep and throaty, quivering slightly as she chose her words.
"You.. you were going to let him take me away?"
Draco didn't speak immediately. He realized now they were uncomfortably close. Her eyes were drilling into him.
"Well, Id ecided it may prove useful to keep you here. Besides," Draco continued, "he was not acting on orders. Just fancied you, regretted handing you over to me at all. I do not tolerate being lied to. He was greedy and undeserving." Draco finished.
She was still looking at him, he wished she wouldn't.
"Thank you, Draco."
The second time she said his name it sent an involuntery shiver down his spine. He looked at her now. Actually looked at her. Damn. How he ignored it before seemed impossible. She appeared to have lost her nerve and dropped her gaze. Unable to stop himself, his right hand acting on its own accord, he gently lifted her chin. Fuck. How would he recover from this?
Thinking quickly, he leaned in and whispered near her ear, "I told you, you would thank me."
With that, he stepped back, feeling as though he had regained control of the situation.
"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. I quite enjoy denying people that which they so desperately desire. Now since you're going no where, get comfortable. Find a way to pass the time. The offer still stands for a game of Chess, if you're in the mood to take a loss."
He left her there, standing alone. It was almost easy, playing the role. He would make a fine actor if he needed to work for his money, but his fortune was ensured as was his future. It didn't really matter how he felt deep down about anything at all. This behavior was expected and accepted, and Draco excelled in discipline. Even if he were to spend the remainder or his life playing the part, confined within these walls alone, it would without a doubt be better than being out there. The quickest way to find himself on the wrong side of the fence now would be to choose this time to act on sympathy and emotions. No, that simply would not do.