Dear Reader,

Wow. I didn't expect such a positive response. Thank you to everyone who left a review. I am so very grateful for all of your kind words. This story has already been added to the "Favorites List" of nine readers and is on the "Alert List" of sixteen. I find this to be both exciting and encouraging. I am still looking for more reviews however. I love to hear from you guys so please leave me one and let me know your thoughts and ideas.

I haven't stated it yet but I have decided to make Draco a few years older than Hermione. I find this gives him more of a distant and forbidden feel.

Within the next few chapters I plan to have the story take a dark and dramatic turn. Be ready.

I hope this is truly different from anything you have read before. Thank you again for all of the love and support. Please remember to review.

All My Love,

J.D.

I would be lying if I said that I was able to recognize the reflection that was staring at me from the other side of the elaborate jewel encrusted mirror. My once tangled locks now formed beautiful satin curls that dripped over my shoulders like a waterfall of caramel and honey. Juno, the portly dark skinned woman who had been in charge of my transformation, had insisted on cutting my bangs so that they gently swept across my eyebrows. According to Juno, Master Draco was very fond of this particular style and often requested that his private servants adorned the look.

I had been stripped from my tattered t-shirt and jeans, my body bathed in a strange liquid that smelled of intoxicating foreign spices and perfumes. A simple black garment had been draped across my body, synched in at my waist by a flowing green sash. Three golden bangles had been placed upon my right wrist, a symbol stating that I worked for the Malfoy family as a private slave within their household. I was to wear them at all times.

I was alone now. The private suite which I found myself in was immaculately decorated. After everything I had seen did I truly expected it to be anything less? My eyes were immediately drawn to a large wooden bookcase standing against the far wall of the room, its volumes crying out for me to investigate. Despite my better judgment I made my way towards the elaborate structure.

Magic. Every title held that word within its description. How strange? I had never heard about any of these authors from my mother. My fingers traced over the spine of every copy I caught sight of, my hand finally coming to rest on a novel which seemed significantly out of place.

"Jane Eyre?"

I took the book from the shelf, blowing off the dust which seemed to cake its cover. The idea of the story itself awoke many memories that I had buried deep within my being. The classic tale of the governess and her wealthy employer had always transfixed me. I had become engrossed within its pages several times. It had been the first piece of English literature that I had read without my mother's aid.

I often considered my mother to be one of my greatest influences. Culture had always been important to her and it was because of this that I found myself reading both Shakespeare and Voltaire years before any of my classmates. It had bothered me at first. I had been unable to wrap my head around many of the ideas and concepts. Still, my mother convinced me to carry on with my studies and I soon realized that I truly enjoyed escaping into the pages of any world that was unlike my own.

"Do you always rummage through the personal belonging of those in a higher position that yourself?"

I turned to find myself entrapped within the gaze of a pair of icy blue orbs. The young man whom they belonged to was staring at me with such intensity that I felt as if my flesh were going to evaporate from my body. He wore only a pair of flannel grey pants, his pale arms and torso exposed to the world. His platinum blonde hair corrected any confusion about his identity. This was Draco Malfoy.

My eyes were instantly drawn to the mark which adorned his left forearm. The depiction of a skull with a snake escaping from its mouth only added fuel to my theory that the family I now served under was nothing more than a pact of sadistic devil worshipers. Yet, there was something strange about this tattoo. It appeared to be moving. Perhaps I was hungrier than I thought?

"Did you not hear me ask you a question? Speak."

The idea of appeasing his request was humiliating. I wanted to scream, to scratch his eyes out and escape from this torrid hell. Why did I not fight back? Had the exhaustion of my trials finally caught up with me? Did I subconsciously know that this family could kill both Kizzie and I if they wished to do such a thing?

"I…I'm sorry. I…I meant no disrespect."

My words were raspy, caught in my throat as they tried to make their way to his ears. My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, my breathing slowed by the sudden bundle of nerves which had developed in my lower stomach. I listened as he took a step towards me, taking the book from my grasp and flipping through its pages before handing it back to me.

"Read it."

I was careful to place my thumb towards the center of the worn pages, trying my best to keep from losing the mark of the passage. It had to be well past midnight by now. The cool air from outside had begun to creep past the stone walls. Perhaps it was my imagination but the temperature in the room felt as if it had dropped significantly.

"Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!"

He circled me, as if her were a vulture waiting for its prey to breathe its last. I felt naked, unclothed by his constant and piercing stare. His breath was manly, coming from somewhere deep within his chest. I guessed that he must be around my age, possibly two or three years my senior. Despite all I had been through in the hours prior to this moment I felt myself drawn to him. There was something about him, something I couldn't immediately explain. He failed to show the blatant need for evil that his father had seemed to possess. The young man before me seemed more manipulative, cunning and calculating to the point of insanity.

"You seem well educated. What is your name servant?"

"Hermione. My…my name is Hermione."

"I see. You were no doubt named for the stories that come out of Greece. Is this true?"

I didn't speak but simply nodded in agreement. He seemed impressed. Most thought my name to be strange, insignificant for the time I was born in. I too had hated it when I was a child, begging my mother and father to call me by my second name instead. Eventually I learned the significance behind its meaning and grew accustom to the questioning looks I received because of it.

"You speak eloquently. However, I can still tell that you are made nervous by your new surroundings. Do I also make you nervous Hermione?"

Was he bating me? I bit might tongue, searching my brain for a response that he would find appropriate to the conversation at hand. Until I figured out his true motive I would have to force myself to play things safe.

"A slave is always nervous when her master is present."

His lips curled into a small but devilish smile. I could tell by his reaction that he had found my response particularly interesting. Had he been hoping that I would disagree with him? Was he, in fact, a dominant personality who was only looking for someone to overpower by fear? I found the notion both frightening and disturbing. He obviously had enough wealth to do whatever he desired.

"You are very clever Hermione. Intelligence is hard to come by in this world". His hand gestured towards the novel still clutched between my fingers. "Read it again."