In the month that the Carrows kept her chained at Hogwarts, Hermione learned a few things. One, Alecto Carrow enjoyed to grow out her nails for the sole purpose of digging them into other people. Two, her brother was even more of a git than Draco Malfoy ever was. And three, there was nothing in the world that was capable of ceasing the incessant shaking of her hands. The twitches came after the first few rounds of crucios from Carrows. The hours she spend writhing and screaming on the floor, Hermione was surprised that she wasn't like the Longbottoms.

As she tried to hold her wand now, the spasms kept her from keeping steady. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco Malfoy staring at her right hand. His face was kept expressionless, though she supposed that was better than having him laugh at her infliction.

The two of them walked side by side, making their way to the Head Dorm with the Deputy Headmistress, Alecto Carrow. The lithe woman walked slowly, scanning the corridors with dark eyes. Hermione wanted to ask if she knew where she was going, but held her tongue, knowing that speaking would grant her punishments that she could no longer tolerate.

"Don't think that because you have a wand, you're a witch," Alecto hissed as they arrived at the Head Dorm. She nodded at Hermione's wand. "We will be watching every spell you cast so tread carefully, Granger." Turning towards Draco, her expression turned colder, if possible. "I suppose I don't have to remind you of your duty?"

"No," Draco said curtly. Grey eyes were smoldering at the witch

"That's a shame, because I'll tell you them anyways," she said mockingly. Jabbing her wand out at his pale throat, she bared her teeth out feral-like and growled under her breath, "Do not fail the Dark Lord once more. Make sure she stays in line." Slowly she turned to wave her wand tauntingly at Hermione. "The Dark Lord has great plans with you, Dearie," she drawled.

If Draco was affected by Alecto, he didn't show it. His face remained stoic and cold. His fingers didn't even itch for his wand. Instead, he pushed away the witch's wand and looked at the portrait door. The image of Hogwarts was shown clearly, with lights in the castle turning on and off. A serpent slithered at the castle gates, before wrapping itself around a statue of a lion. It hissed and coiled tightly around the statue.

"Lemon drops," he said, his voice low and hallow.

The portrait swung open, and he walked in, forgetting about Alecto and Hermione. Tiredly he took off his robe and let it slip to the floor in a heap. He tossed his bag onto one of the armchairs and sprawled himself on the emerald velvet couch. Loosening his tie, he sighed loudly and closed his eyes. Vaguely the sound of light footfalls met his ears, followed by the sound of the portrait door closing, then light footfalls again.

Hermione stared at him, alarmed by how casual he was. Just like her, he was not the same. But while she had lost weight and built a wall to defend herself, he seemed to had done the opposite. Draco Malfoy had grown out of his lanky physique and filled out with broad shoulders and defined muscles that could be seen through his white button up shirt. Platinum blonde hair dusted just below his eyebrows. His nose, no longer as pointy and narrow, was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken and did not heal properly. Still, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes. That seemed to be the only thing they shared in common.

"Do muggles not teach their children not to stare?" he suddenly asked. His voice was deep and filled with annoyance.

She continued to stare, feeling something heat up in her gut as she took in his appearance. Slowly she took a step towards him. Then another. And another. Then all at once, she lunged at him.

With tiny fists flailing and a loud outcry of rage, she slammed her fists on any part of his body she could reach. She straddled his waist and hovered above him, looking like a deranged banshee as she did so. Sentence fragments filled with curses and insults left her lips as thick hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

"What the hell, Granger!" Draco yelled, grabbing her wrists. He held them tightly before twisting their bodies to pin her to the couch. "What the fuck is your problem?" he shouted in her face. His breath felt warm against her cheek as he berated her with more questions, asking her why she decided to attack him. "Answer me!" he demanded, slamming her wrists above her head as she tried to squirm away. "You are bloody insane!"

"Well why wouldn't I be?" she spat back at him. "A month in the hands of Death Eaters," she said lowly, her voice shaking, "and now I'm living with one."

There was a shift in Draco's demeanor as his face, once contorted with anger, fell into a blank stare. "You stupid bint," he whispered icily. Releasing her wrists, he used his weight to pin her down as he began to roll up his left sleeve. "Look at it, Granger. Look!"

Staining his forearm stood the mark that symbolized the hatred for her existence. Never had she seen one so up close before. Her right hand twitched.

"You see this, Granger?" he asked rhetorically. "This might be a death sentence for you, but it's a life sentence for me." He pressed his face close to hers till his lips grazed her ear. "You can hate me all you want, but at the end of the day, the only reason why you aren't dead yet, is because Potter isn't here. I always thought he'd be the one dead without you. Ironic, don't you think?"

Pushing away from her, he stood up and gathered his belongings before storming off to his room, leaving Hermione to lay on the couch, staring that the ceiling with tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes burned as a spark lit up in them for the first time in weeks. Her right hand twitched. She furiously wiped her face and sat up.

No, she thought. This was not her. She was not the kind of person to blindly attack another. But Draco Malfoy was the cause of her being here. If he hadn't been so much of a coward and allowed Dumbledore to be-

She closed her eyes and took shuddering breaths. Dumbledore was gone, and Draco had taken part in his death. Now the wizarding world was in shambles. The ministry was gone, now taken over by Voldemort. And Harry and Ron... They were out on the run, looking for horcruxes hopefully, and not loosing their minds over her whereabouts. The night she was taken- the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding- Harry had gotten an idea on where to start his hunt for horcruxes. Surely he and Ron were managing without her, right? They were smart boys. At least, smart enough not to get killed.

"Idiots," she muttered under her breaths.

This was Harry and Ron. They faced so much already. They were definitely alive, other wise she wouldn't be sitting in the middle of the Head Dormitory common room. But Merlin did she miss them.

She missed the way they made her laugh and the way they made her feel safe. She missed Harry and the comfort and hope he brought her. She missed Ron, and how he managed to make her feel like there was nothing wrong in the world at times.

"I love you, Hermione," she imagined him saying, his voice soft and sweet. "I love you. Stay with me."

Her heart swelled at the memory of Ron. "I love you," she wanted to say to him. "I love you and I'm safe."

But as she opened her eyes, she saw the stone walls of the dormitory, rather than Ron. Slowly, emptiness settled in her chest, and she stood from the couch. Nothing was the same. Harry and Ron were gone.

Hermione knew what she needed to do now. Her eyes were gleaming as she walked to her room. She discovered that there were no doors, curtesy of the Carrows no doubt. It left two openings: the main entrance, and one that led to a bathroom she had to share with Malfoy.

There was no privacy, but at least there was a trunk and a bed. Well, somewhat of a bed. There was just a mattress on the floor with grey sheets and a wool blanket. Slowly she sat on the mattress that sat on the floor in the corner of the room, and felt the roughness and tensing of the springs. It was slightly better than the couch, so she settled for it, not picky over bedding after sleeping on the ground of a month.

Laying down, she felt her eyelids lower. Darkness surrounded her and slowly peace settled in her chest as her mind began to fall asleep, allowing her a few hours to escape reality.

Hermione, under any circumstances, did not want to wake up. The harsh green walls around her glared and told her to stay in bed. The coldness of the room caused her to shake and curl into a ball beneath her blanket. Closing her eyes, she hoped for some more minutes of sleep, but suddenly she heard a door open, and knew that Draco was in the bathroom.

"Granger?"

He walked over to stick his head through the doorway. His face contorted into a look of disbelief and annoyance. Shaking his head, he ran his hands through his head. Unbelievable, he thought. Yet he knew that he was supposed to be watching Hermione like a hawk. The Dark Lord stated his mission very clearly- Keep Hermione Granger under the control of the Death Eaters to lure Harry Potter out. He was to know her every move to ensure there were no problems.

"Bloody hell," he muttered, before going back to the bathroom.

Hermione could hear him in there. Every sound he made only drove her to wanting to sleep even more. Closing her eyes, she recalled her dream and felt the corners of her lips tug up.

"Hermione, what to you reckon this does?" Ron asked, holding up the cylindrical device. "Beside put out lights of course."

She observed the gift that Dumbledore had left Ron in his will. "I've never seen anything like it before." She held out her hand, and Ron placed it on her palm. It felt cool and sleek against her fingertips. Her fingers ran over it, inspecting every detail. She clicked it open, and watched as the light in Ron's room went out. Clicking it once more, it returned.

"Ron, Hermione!" Harry whispered as he entered the room. "Muffalo." He sat on the floor with them and showed them the golden snitch in his hand. "I have a theory," he said. "What if-"

"Granger, wake up!"

Her eyes snapped open and she looked to see Draco standing in the doorway with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. Water droplets trickled down his chest as he tried to dry off his damn hair with a smaller towel.

"I will be damned if I am punished for your laziness. Get up."

He threw the towel in his hand at her, hitting her in the face. Hermione sat up abruptly, wand clutched in her hand and pointed at the blond. He gave her a challenging smirk, and took a step into the room. Standing there, he waited for her to curse him, knowing that she would not, and could not, go through with it. The tag on her wand kept her from performing any kind of spell without Snape's knowledge, and it would not have bode well for her if the Headmaster found out that his godson was stupefied.

Her hand shook, but the fire was lit in her eyes, causing her to show a new look of determination that Draco had not seen in awhile.

"You have five minutes before I'm dragging you out of here myself," Draco said.

"Carefull, Malfoy. You might catch some cooties from being so close to me. What would your father have to say about that?"

His grey eyes darkened. "Careful, mudblood."

"And what could you do to me? Until that snake you bow down to says otherwise, I stay alive," Hermione retorted. Kicking off the blanket, she stood. "And you? You already tarnished your family name in his inner circle of bigots. If you died, another would just replace you." She took a step towards him. "You are disposable, and I'm needed." She laughed at the irony, though her laugh was hallow and cold. "Don't worry, Malfoy. You'll always be remembered. Who could for get the Amazing Bouncing Ferret?"

Draco growled. In two long strides he was in front of her, seething and scowling with his hands clenched into tight fists. "You overestimate your worth," he snarled. Roughly grabbing her shoulders, his fingers dug deep into her skin, drawing a small whimper. "You just have to be alive, Granger. But pretty soon, you're going to wish you weren't."

Then he released her, and retreated to his room, no longer finding the point in arguing with a girl that was technically his prisoner. She was useless to him. She was just another piece of mudblood filth. She was nothing.

But why did he always find the urge to rile her up? To see that spark in her eyes return, even for a second? Perhaps it was because it reminded him of a time when teasing the Golden Trio was his favorite past-time. Old habits die hard, he supposed. But even has he thought about it, he knew that it was different than before. Now, there was no Harry Potter or Ron Weasley to protect her. The little lioness was now left alone in the wild.

How pathetic, he thought.