A/N: Omgosh, you guys have to see the art imnotgabrielle, on Tumblr, made for this piece! It's so pretty! I love it because Hermione looks so powerful, and Draco is by her side like he should be. Also, the detail is AH-MAZING. Thanks so much to her for this C: You can see it on my Photobucket (under Shipwrecked), Tumblr, or FB.

Beta Love to: RooOJoy XxX

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~oOo*oOo~

It was dark save for the scant light provided by a three- quarter moon. The flickering brightness cast an eerie glow along gnarled tree roots that sprung from the ground, causing the air to reek with the scent of composting bark. New growth stood guard like sentries around the most primitive part, the part that held many secrets in its age-old depths if one knew where to look.

Deep in the jungles depths sat a city, a hidden city. One forgotten by modern men. If one traveled far enough, the foliage gave way to a ravine of sorts, before unveiling a once majestic city, now in mere ruins. Vines traveled along the edge of the old buildings and crested up the pyramids, holding the ancient stone in a death grip. Only the water from the fresh-water cenote ran freely, cutting through the city like a jagged cut from a blade.

The air was different here; it vibrated with an unseen energy, one that loudly proclaimed the presence of magic.

Humans were so abysmally stupid.

They could not see what was right in front of them.

The magicfolk were no better. These days, they were far too thoughtless, too imprudent, to notice anything save the senseless war they waged. The treasures that lie here lay vastly untouched from the human race, magic and non-magic alike and that was good. No one need know what was housed here.

Because it was an abomination.

It should never have existed.

Such power did not belong in the human realm, but in that of the Fae, where it could be kept safely away from the grasp of humans. The one responsible for the creation of this place caused much dismay to the Fae realm. It was an endeavor that had been done stealthily, over the span of a fleeting lifetime. The Fae were not made aware of the dealings here before it was too late. And the man-rulers, sovereigns, and kings that had risen since were not worth consorting with. Human leaders born with an inherent sense of wisdom were a rarity, they came evanescently through the centuries and never lasted.

Except for the Old Soul.

The Old Souls were perhaps the most evolved of the humans, the most intelligible. Over millenia, they proved to occasionally present with intelligence worthy of Fae consideration. But more often than not, the meddlesome species proved unwelcome adversaries.

Even so, the Queen, though temperamental, was wise and just. She knew how to deal with the race. Pit them against each other. It was unnatural to have humans climb up from the bottom where they belonged. Better to be rid of them entirely.

Despite the solution, there was still this to deal with, and Carling despised the interruption in a life of otherwise paradise.

Humans that caused this level of tediousness should not suffer to live.

A bright, flapping creature flew by in a sparkling whirr before stopping where Carling stood, purging the immediate darkness. She watched with listless eyes as the creature's form morphed and shifted into a form not dissimilar to her own. The warrior was the epitome of Fae beauty and could cause a human's eyes to melt with sheer adoration if they were ever given the privilege to be in his presence. Oren stood to his full height, appraising her with iridescent eyes.

"It is just as we thought; the place has been disturbed," the golden-haired Fae informed her angrily.

Carling furrowed her brows in distaste. "How do the witch's old wards not cause the trespassers to burn where they stand?"

Oren twisted his shoulders gracefully in what was supposed to be a shrug. "I sense death in that which we cannot access."

The statement elevated her wrath all the more. To think that there were places in the human world where they could not access! It was a disgrace.

"That's not all," Oren added silkily. "I also sense the portals have been used."

"The one connecting our world?"

"No, a minor one."

"Probably that spinster," Carling spat out scornfully. "She does take of our waters."

"Waters that have no business in this realm."

"That is a hopeless flight."

"Still, she takes of them sparingly. She does not wish to chance discovery." Oren glanced around, inhuman eyes scanning the perimeter. "What came here was not from her—it's not her trace."

"The Queen will not be pleased." If Carling could feel the same spectrum emotions humans do, she might have felt fear.

"Her wrath will be terrible to behold," Oren agreed. "She might send an emissary to the human sovereign, again."

The notion caused something akin to distress to swell in her chest. "We do not know for sure what lies in the chamber," she ventured tentatively, sneakily.

Oren, who was nothing if not sharp, inclined his head carefully. "No red-blooded humans were caught here today."

An out—a small one. They would be compelled to report human experienced they witnessed first hand, but this...

"The Queen already knows of the portal-crosser, and lets her use our gift sparingly. The witch has not been trouble for centuries."

Oren nodded. "I say there is nothing to report here."

"I agree, Brother."

The Fae were forced to stand guardian over the land that should have been smited from the earth from the start. They were tasked with watching over it, to make sure it stayed hidden from human eyes so that no more atrocities could be created here, as were created many years ago. But there was only so much they could do, and entering the sacred pyramid was not a privilege afforded them—they were warded out with everyone else, and the treasures that lie deep in it's depths were forbidden to them.

~oOo*oOo~

Gazing at the magical map in front of him, Harry let his eyes wander over the constantly shifting seas and the cluster of islands he knew so well. King Riddle would have a conniption if he saw the complicated magical imprint Harry had in his possession thanks to the aid of Tracey. Not only did it let him see a more detailed and perfect replica of the continents even Riddle did not know the exactness of, but it allowed him to zone in on the British Navy and various trade routes.

With the power of the map, he could avoid running into enemy ships if he desired to—but what was the fun in that?

Nothing when he knew his arsenal of spells could penetrate through any protective ward Riddle had conjured thus far. Thanks to Harry's compatriots who were largely as inventive as he when it came to spellwork, they'd come up with a variety of damaging spells that could rip through and decimate Riddle's shields into nothingness.

He rather liked having the opportunity to use them.

"Are you looking at those tiny ships again?" Tracey asked, her lips pressed in a petulant line. "I swear to Poseidon, you're obsessed with this map—as much as you are with the compass."

"I'm just making sure none of our ships are going to run into a situation they can't handle," he explained, leaning against the stone railing of the outdoor atrium. From this viewpoint, he could see all of New Godric's Hollow on both sides of the river. It was probably his favorite spot on the island and the best potential place to weave the new bit of magic he'd been learning about if he had any guess.

"We only have, what, three out?"

"Four," he corrected her. "That one there," he turned and pointed to a ship right next to Aruba, "is Sirius and Minnie's vessel. Then these two heading east are Ronald and Bill's."

"Making a stop at Old Godric's?"

Harry nodded, content to see they were far from any other ship that could be tied with the enemy.

"What about that one?" She pointed to a ship close to South New World, dotting along the coastline but still within view. "Is that Reg's ship, there? I wish you'd let me go with him and Cho." Her tone turned accusatory. "You let Justin go."

"They're just scoping out the coastline, taking more spectral imprints to add detail to the map. Besides, I'm really curious about that area and Justin's actually been working there, so he can help."

"Still, I could have used the excitement."

"Still having dreams?"

Tracey's face turned suddenly serious. "Every night." She swallowed audibly and then seemed to shake the notion away. "So you see why I could use a bit of fun."

"They're under explicit instructions not to be seen. It's just an information-seeking mission; not very risky."

"Then with Sirius and Minnie." She crossed her arms over her chest in a huff. "Those two are always a riot."

"Not with Ronald and Bill?" he jested.

"Too many Weasley's in much too small a space." She stepped onto the edge of the stone wall, making Harry tense with worry at how dangerously close she was into falling to the river below. "Aruba would be my choice."

"Circe doesn't like you," he reminded her none too nicely.

Tracey gave a flippant shrug of her shoulders. "There's a lot of people I don't like, but I work with them just the same. She's probably not there anyway."

"Probably," he begrudgingly agreed. "Out traveling again."

Tracey glanced around at the open stone enclosure that housed the map. "What makes you think this is such a great place to perform the spell, anyway?"

"The inherent magical energy." He sighed, couldn't Tracey feel it? "You need some place where the force of it is strong. They're often cut through fairy knolls, most commonly, but also ancient places that have a residual magical linger, like this one."

"Do you really think Circe would help you? She strikes me as the sort that likes to play both sides."

"She helped us with the bindings, didn't she? I'm just not sure how to catch her."

"She does have a knack for disappearing into thin air."

Harry nodded, his eyes falling to the map again. There was a ship leaving Aruba that wasn't Sirius'. If he had to guess, he'd say it was a small trading vessel and it seemed to be bound for England. It was still leagues away from Ron and Bill, but it had been disturbingly close to Sirius and Minnie.

Odd.

He'd have to ask them about it when they returned. Meanwhile, he turned to the ancient tome in his lap, hoping that Tracey would be quick about casting a cushioning charm when she inevitably fell. Right now, he wanted to learn more about Residual Magic.

~oOo*oOo~

To say Malfoy Manor was grand was a gross understatement.

The mansion was beautiful to behold. From the formidable structure to the opulent gardens, the place screamed galleons, and Hermione had to duck her head several times lest she be caught openly gaping.

Ever since stepping foot back in England only hours before, and then being swiftly Apparated to the most luxurious home in all of Wiltshire, Hermione had been in a state of paralyzed astonishment. Even the eight-day passage back to Britain had not prepared her for the culture shock.

The Malfoy grounds were lavish and spacious, but she missed the openness of the island. In a stark comparison of the filthy streets of London, the air here was breathable and perfumed, but she longed for the scent of the ocean mingled with wild flowers. The place was beautiful and impeccably decorated, but it did not hold a Lumos to the natural beauty from which she came. In a moment of clarity, she realized the island with no name had become her home, her first real home, and she was painstakingly homesick.

"We acquired two more albino peacocks while you were gone," Lord Malfoy drawled loftily, continually pointing things out here and there to his son. "We've spruced up the place for Solstice season. We'll be hosting several parties and a dinner or two."

"I imagine that's all rather costly," Draco said stiffly, eyes trained ahead.

Hermione remembered a rushed moment where they had packed a few things from their camp. Mostly, they left all their carefully crafted utensils and items that had helped them survive, but they hadn't forgotten the Firecrab shell with it's rare gems embedded on the hard surface. She imagined that would certainly come in handy here, especially with his parent's clear pension for the extravagance. As tense as things were since boarding the horrible ship and facing the unknown, and as numb as the entire ordeal had caused her to feel, she still possessed the awareness to feel sorry for Draco. It was obvious to her that he carried a huge burden on his shoulders.

She was plagued with her own worries.

It was rather daunting to go from sweet freedom to virtual slavery in a matter of days. For weeks, several months, even, she'd been treated like an equal. She'd never known such respect, but it was something she'd gotten used to rather quickly. It seemed right. How was she ever going to be content thrust right back into the role of a scullery maid?

She wasn't.

Simply put, this glimpse into Draco's world of extravagance would be pure torture for her, she was sure of it. Lord Malfoy had mentioned the Solstice season, how many dinner parties would she be compelled to serve? Her hands balled into fists. Merlin, but witches would probably be competing for his attentions! The thought made her suddenly nauseous. How would she suffer it? Her magic bristled irritably at the disturbing notion.

Sweet Morgana, she'd have to be a bloody Saint to get through this and still keep her sanity.

As they passed through the oversized doors and into the high vaulted entry way, Hermione could not help feeling intimidated by the place. The decorations were garish and dazzling. She felt immediately out of place in such a home. Even the Hornby's didn't enjoy such wealth. Second only to the King, most likely. The Malfoys really did have King Riddle's favor.

They were met by a woman so strikingly beautiful, Hermione couldn't help but stare before she remembered herself and demurely ducked her head.

"Draco," the woman cried, before walking briskly to where he stood and throwing her arms around him, her elegant dress trailing on the polished wood floor. "Son, I feared you for dead."

That beautiful woman was Draco's mother? She hardly looked old enough to have bore a son his age. It figured—it now made all the sense in the world how he was so devastatingly handsome. Even his horrid father was easy on the eyes so long as he wasn't sneering, which was rare. They must be a family of Veelas.

"Mother," he pulled away to greet her. "I've missed you."

She did not pull her eyes away from his face as she spoke. "Lucius, I can't believe you actually managed to find him. Where have you been all this time, Draco?"

"My ship was attacked by Potter."

Lady Malfoy's face twisted in a scowl.

"We weren't prepared for the type of curses they used. He tore the ship in two, and I was hit with a stunner. It's only thanks to Hermione that I was pulled from the water. She managed to secure a raft and we drifted to a small island."

Her eyes drifted to where Hermione stood quietly, eyes trained low to the ground.

"This is who saved you?" Lady Malfoy inquired with an edge of distaste. "A Muggle slave?"

Draco nodded solemnly. "That's right. Without a wand I was forced to survive the Muggle way; living off of the land and such."

Relief flooded Lady Malfoy's features. She finally pulled away from her son and turned to face Hermione. "Girl," she beckoned imperiously.

Hermione looked up blankly, her posture rigid. "Milady."

"Though you only did what is in your nature, to serve, I still am appreciative you helped my son." She eyed her shrewdly and Hermione got the distinct impression she was being evaluated. Lady Malfoy did not strike her as an idiot, perhaps she was wondering what else had transpired on the island her son had disappeared to for several months.

"It was my duty," Hermione responded stoically.

Lady Malfoy looked back to her son. "I imagine you have grown attached to her and would wish to keep her?"

"I would." Draco's jaw tightened before he spoke again. "She has been very useful to me and it's difficult to come by good help."

Lady Malfoy seemed to expect such an answer. "A house servant, then?"

"I believe she would be well-suited for the position."

The striking witch nodded her understanding. "I can accept that." She turned to face Hermione again and she forced herself not to recoil at the force of such an intense stare. "But you must continue to prove useful to serve in my manor, girl. I do not tolerate laxidazakalness in my house slaves."

"Yes, milady." Hermione curtseyed slightly, dropping her eyes as she did so. A sick feeling welled up in her stomach and she had to swallow back the bile that was encroaching up her throat.

The family continued to talk as if she wasn't there. Draco's time away was a huge topic of interest. His parents wanted to know what he ate and where he slept. Draco wanted to know about his crew, whom his father informed him, had sustained heavy losses but some had managed to survive. Hermione could hardly tune into what they were saying, consumed by dark thoughts.

She was struck by the strange urge to slink into the shadows and blend into the walls. She was so glaringly out of place, she felt her cheeks tinge with shame at the realization. As much as she tried to halt the insidious thoughts, she couldn't help but start to see Draco in a new light. This was his home. Where he lived! They were so drastically at odds in Society, it was hard not to think about it. How had she ever forgotten for a second?

What if Draco was thinking about it now? Their connection on the island had been nothing short of magical, but Hermione wasn't foolish. She was the only girl in Malfoy's immediate vicinity, of course, he would be drawn to her. They'd been marooned together for weeks, it stood to reason they would seek each other out. But now? As much as she hated to entertain the bitter idea, she couldn't help but think it had all been a mistake, a fleeting fancy on his part. He was bloody royalty and could have any number of prestigious witches at his beck and call. How on earth was she to compare with that? Her in her plain clothes, with her plain features, and lowly blood. He'd called her beautiful, he'd sang her praises, but perhaps he'd been tinged by the sun. There was no way whatever had transpired between them on the island could follow them here.

"The house servants stay in the cellar," Lord Malfoy informed her rather arrogantly. "Look for Mina, she's in charge and will direct you in your tasks."

Hermione felt a cold lump of fear form in the pit of her stomach at the blatant order she was so unused to hearing. She ducked her head and responded with a meek Yes, Milord.

This was her life now.

She had to accept the fact that she was back at the bottom where she'd just started to feel she'd climbed up from. She wasn't even sure why she had persisted on leaving, on taking down the ward. The prospect of returning seemed foolish now. Yes, there were people oppressed, but how was she in any position to help? The best she could hope for was that Draco would take her back as he promised and she could escape the world, pretending as if none of the injustices existed as she lived her own ignorantly blissful life away from the tyranny that plagued Europe and was starting to invade the New World.

But even that seemed very unlikely.

Draco had expressed hopes his parents would leave with him. He'd seemed convinced he could extend the invitation and they would come willingly. Now that she was here and witnessed the Malfoy splendor first hand, she couldn't see how that was remotely a possibility. Who would give up everything to start over with nothing?

Doubt was a terrible thing, and once it reared it's ugly head in her mind, she was helpless to not feed into it.

I'm as common as a scullery maid. Forget using magic, forget reading books, the only thing in my immediate future is serving. The thought of being so effectively cut off from her magic was the most crippling to her already knackered and frenzied mind. I may have been better off with Potter the Pirate finding me.

No, that was just silly. She didn't mean that. She should have more faith in Draco. Hadn't she witnessed his transformation with her very eyes? From sneering disdain to loving praise? He wouldn't simply relapse into his former-prat-self by being reminded of where he came from. He was stronger than that and he'd changed.

She located the cellar and entered the busy room teeming with servants and even what looked to be a house elf-a creature known to be rare and endangered. Of course, the Malfoys would have.

I just need to keep my eyes open, see if there are others like me. If there is a resistance in Britain, that means there is hope and something to fight for. Hermione clenched her jaw in determination and continued into the room with a newfound resolve. She would not let the dark thoughts poison her hope. She had a mission, and she needed to at least give it a sporting chance.

~oOo*oOo~

Draco sat tensely in his chair as he watched with hollow eyes as dinner was brought to him. The smell of expensive meat mingled with the sweet scent of pudding and freshly baked bread permeated the air, but he could hardly summon an appetite.

He'd reconciled with his parents and with his grandfather, and he was now seated at their overly large table about to indulge in a feast, but he couldn't help being troubled. All during the voyage and then since reaching Wiltshire and his home, he'd been plagued with an ominous feeling that only seemed to intensify with time.

He was worried about Hermione.

Draco was unused to seeing her so quiet. It felt eerie and wrong. She was a strong and powerful witch who deserved the right to flex that power. Seeing her subjected to servitude once more brought a bitter taste to his mouth. How would she cope with the other servants? How would he find opportunities to pull her aside and reassure her? The manor was large, but there were so many watchful eyes, from portraits hanging on the walls to his family that didn't seem to want to let him out of his sight.

What was more, he would soon need to meet with King Riddle.

They'd already received response via Owl that Draco was to report to Court first thing in the morning. He would have to account for his time away and keep the powerful Occlumens from seeing all that had transpired while he was away. If the King decided on doing a full Legilimency spell, Draco would be hard-pressed to control the thoughts he thrust at him, but he would have to find the strength to.

And then what?

He had a sneaking suspicion of what would happen next. If Riddle found no fault in him, he would surely ask him to take his grandfather's place as Chancellor. Draco would be in no place to decline. That meant a majority of his time would be swept up by Court. It was the last place he wanted to be.

He wanted to visit Zabini and Nott. He'd been overjoyed to hear they'd survived. Why Potter didn't kill them was mind-boggling, but he was far too pleased at the news to expound on the why of it.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of tinkling glass. He looked up to see his mother had lifted her Champagne flute in the air and was poising it towards him.

"A toast," she exclaimed happily. "To my son and his safe return. May life bring you nothing but success and happiness."

His grandfather and father joined in, with mumbles of agreement. Draco raised his glass and drowned it in one drink. The sweet spirit didn't even burn as it went down. He looked to his food and speared the seasoned potatoes with his fork, forcing down a bite. He could hardly taste the flavor to appreciate it.

"Will Miss Greengrass be returning?" Lucius asked, directing the question to Narcissa.

"She's staying with the Parkinson's in Brighton during Solstice season, but I can Owl her to let her know of the wonderful news." His mother smiled brightly. "She will be so pleased to know you have returned."

"I don't see how that's any of my concern," Draco angrily gritted out. "I'd prefer my company limited at the moment."

He felt instantly speared by sharp blue eyes. "Draco," her tone was mildly chiding, "we'd already made arrangements with her family for Miss Greengrass to stay during Solstice. When you didn't return, she decided to stay with friends, but now I see no reason to revoke the invitation?"

"Perhaps because I've just come back from quite the traumatic adventure, and I could use some solace."

Her eyes hardened. "You'll have to get over it, won't you? The King will not tolerate this solace."

Draco clenched his teeth angrily. The last thing he wanted was to be forced in the insufferable presence of Astoria Greengrass. That had been one perk of being away from Wiltshire; missing all his mother's diabolical marriage plans. How was he to endure it? The balls, the dinner parties, the madness that accompanied Solstice made him want to gag with revulsion. All the political and social wheelings and dealings made him nauseous. The hell if he would be caught up in them.

He immediately straightened from his seat. "I would like to retire for the evening as I have an early morning at Court." He summoned a servant standing against the wall, an action that had become foreign to him. "I'll take the remainder of meal in my chambers."

"But you've barely touched your food," his mother argued.

Lucius dared to look aghast. "You're upsetting your mother."

Draco suppressed an eye roll. That was the least of his concerns.

Abraxas' eyes sparkled with mischief. "You've yet to fully regale us in tales from your weeks on an uncharted island."

"That will have to wait until tomorrow, I'm afraid." Draco inclined his head slightly. "Mother, Father, Grandfather, I wish you a pleasant evening."

He whirled to leave despite the gasp of displeasure that escaped his mother's mouth.

The ominous feeling was increasing in the pit of his stomach and he needed to be rid of his inquisitive family, regardless of how well-meaning they were. He exited the dining room and made his way to the stairs. He longed for his chambers—it had been a while since he'd been there and since he'd slept in a proper bed.

His thoughts wandered to Hermione once more. How was she finding her shared quarters with the servants? He needed to speak with her, preferably before he was whisked away to Court. She needed assurance and to know he would keep her safe. If he thought the social games that came with Solstice season irritating, he could only imagine how she would feel, being compelled to serve all the haughty Purebloods who entered the manor. He wished he could simply keep her from dealing with any of it at all, but that would be more suspicious than if she simply acted the part. As much as it pained him, there was no easy way out and they would both be forced to play their respective parts.

On the second floor, he noticed a servant hunched over and polishing the banister. At first, he didn't recognize her in her grey uniform and with her hair tied back, but he felt an instant pull and knew without a doubt that it was her.

"Hermione," he hissed, towering above her.

She looked up in alarm, before awareness registered in her chocolate gaze. "Master Draco."

Again he felt repulsed by the title. When had his title ever made him feel uncomfortable? When had he even noticed servants who were constantly found working inside the manor? Never before now. He glanced around, noticing nothing but a portrait snoring softly on the wall. "Hermione," he said again, pulling her up. "We need to talk."

She let him haul her further down the corridor and then inside his personal chambers. He reached for his mother's wand, instantly purging the darkness when he cast bluebell flames, then spun her around to face him. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," came the automatic reply.

"I'm worried about you," he informed her honestly. "I know this is quite the shift."

"Quite," she agreed, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

He was interrupted by a knock on the door and pushed her gently aside so she wouldn't be seen. He mumbled his thanks to the servant that brought his dinner and quickly shut the door, taking the food and placing it on the table himself.

He motioned to her. "Eat."

She walked tentatively towards the small table and chairs. "I've already had my evening meal."

His featured flooded with disgust. "That mush? I want you to have something better than that."

Reluctantly, she nodded. "All right." She sat down primly on the chair and lifted the lid off of the plate, peering down at what he offered. "Steak?" She lifted his eyes to his.

He swallowed. "Didn't I promise you'd try it one day?"

She cut a piece and took a careful nibble before swallowing it down. "It'svery good."

Unable to stand still, he paced around the room, running a shaky hand through his bedraggled hair. "I have to meet with King Riddle tomorrow. He'll be wanting me to account for my time away, explain how I survived, report on my experience with Potter and his forces."

She nodded. "Yes, that's no surprise to us."

"No," he agreed. "And if he finds my story pleasing, he will probably extend the position of Chancellor to me. I will not be permitted to refuse."

"You should act grateful for the opportunity."

"I know." He stopped pacing and deposited himself roughly down on the seat across from her. "It will mean increased time away from here...away from you."

Hermione met his gaze with a decidedly fiery one of her own. It made him feel much better to see a glimpse of the girl he'd come to know. "It will also mean exclusive knowledge on the opposition."

She brought up a valid point.

Though Draco was not sure he wanted to risk anything for a cause that seemed so hopeless. "Yes. I will learn all I can about them. I'd always thought the Potter Rebellion reckless and self-serving, but perhaps there is more I'm unaware of. They did let two of my closest friends go, unscathed save a memory charm. That alone is reason enough to reconsider their actions."

"Potential allies?"

"I'm not sure." He balled his hands into fists. "I know some of the people that went over to Potter's side, not all Muggle-borns, but some Purebloods too. I always thought them barmy, even in school."

"It's worth finding out more."

"Is it?" His voice took on an earnest tone. "I'm not sure I want to risk it...to risk our chance of getting out of here. I think we should focus all of our energy on leaving before looking into something that has the risk of being noticed."

Hermione sighed and placed her fork down. "I think you should try to gain information before you focus your efforts on leaving again. We've already risked a lot."

He couldn't argue with that. Their decision to come here was reason enough to at least try to learn more, so long as he didn't incite suspicion whilst doing it. He owed it to her to find out if there were others like herself, and what Potter was doing with the Muggle-borns he captured. Were they happy to serve him? The way they were able to outmaneuver Riddle's own fleets suggested that the opposition worked well together.

"I will find out what I can," he relented, "but the minute I feel that we are in danger, we are escaping."

"What about your family?"

"I may have to take them against their will. They would have a lot to say initially, but without their wands they are harmless, and if they stay in England, they would only be at risk from King Riddle."

She nodded. "All right," she said tremulously. "Meanwhile, I'm sure I can behave like a proper servant."

Draco's lips twisted in a smirk. "They have no idea what a powerful witch you are." Hermione was really magnificent, and if it wasn't so terrifying, the situation would be almost comical. "But we have to play our parts, lest we arouse suspicion." He evaluated her silently, gauging her reaction. "Still, if anything happens, blast it all, I want you to come to me immediately. I can't suffer the idea of you being hurt."

She smiled softly. "Of course, Draco, but I shall try to disturb you very little. You have enough of a burden to bear."

"You are not a burden."

She drew up from her chair, laying the linen napkin carefully on the table. "I better leave. The other servants already think me lucky to have secured such a sought after house position, apparently. I don't want to make them anymore suspicious by not doing my work."

Straightening from his seat, he was directly in front of her in three short strides. His hands immediately found her hips, and he pulled her closer. "Be very careful, and trust no one when I am away." He let his head fall forward, taking strength from the feel of her forehead against his.

"I'll speak to no one," she agreed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

It was so comforting to have her safely in his arms, so familiar. But he knew the feeling could not last, as much as he wanted her to stay with him the entire night, they still had to keep up the appearance of him being her master and her being his servant. Not for long, he silently vowed. I'll keep my ear out for rebel activity, but we will not stay here for long.

~oOo*oOo~