Hermione had been testing the door since Malfoy lifted the locks on the balcony. Looking through the spy hole on the door, the hallway was always empty. She would twist the doorknob and crack the door open, and then wait for Malfoy or Neddy to appear to stop her but they never came.

Neddy, no longer afraid of her, would drop off her breakfast and then be off for the day. Sometimes she appeared to deliver lunch, and other times sent it up to the rooms magically. Either way, from when she left after breakfast at 7:00am until lunch time at promptly 12:30pm, Hermione was left unbothered. Unsupervised.

Now was the time to test how far her chains would reach.

She knew she wasn't a prisoner to the rooms. That they were a refuge, not a cage. But that didn't stop her from being aware of her confinement and longing to feel in control of her freedom. Stickler for the rules as she was, she had learned in her time with Harry and Ron that the rules didn't protect anyone – especially those who needed it the most. Outside of the classroom or halls of the school, she learned to use the rules as a compass for what her enemies were hoping she wouldn't do next.

'You won't leave this suite,' she mocked in her head as she pulled the cloak of invisibility from her small-beaded back. As if she'd follow any rule Malfoy gave her.

Promises, however, those she still held close to her heart. It wasn't an accident she never promised Malfoy she wouldn't leave the room. She only promised she wouldn't be seen. Just like she did during the first year of school with her two best friends, she slipped under the cloak and out the door.

There was plenty of material for the cloak to conceal her, not needing to huddle under it with two boys and having the entire thing to herself. The floor beneath her feet was wooden, unlike the marble on the flooring on the first level. The hall had several doors she did not dare to touch, not wanting to trigger any alarms. The walls were lined with paintings, mostly landscape and abstract art which she was grateful for. If the portraits at Grimmauld Place were any indication, she doubted her presence would be well received by the Malfoy ancestors if they sensed her heritage.

She had mastered the art of moving silently over the years. Her steps made no sound as she approached the landing of the staircase and voices from the first floor carried up to where she stood.

Her heart started to pound, and she stood there frozen. Waiting to see if anyone would walk by on the ground floor below. Ironically, the exercise was even unnerving without Ron there to scold for breathing too loud and blowing their cover. When she reached the marble floor at the bottom, her socked feet hardly made a sound and she headed toward the voices she heard in the distance.

Keeping in mind the direction she went so she may return to the suite, Hermione approached the drawing room which appeared to be the source of the voices. The room was clearly the heart of the Manor, as both times this was where she was delivered as a captive.

Her first detention was almost a month ago now, but the ghost of those memories slowed her steps as she got closer to the entrance. Bellatrix had tortured her into unconsciousness the last time she was there. She remembered enough that her body and mind knew to be wary of this place and were reluctant to approach on their own accord. When she was brought in the second time, the adrenaline from the battle dulled the effect the room had on her. This time, she could almost see the dark magic rippling through the doors. She willed herself to keep moving, detaching her feet from her mind, and walking by pure muscle memory.

She was so distracted that she nearly gasped as a group of death eaters brushed by her to enter the room. Their faces were not masked, but their robes and hoods made it impossible for her to tell who they were.

The drawing room was different than it was when she arrived after the battle. The typical furnishings were all pushed to one side of the room, and a large gathering table took the space of the other side.

There were death eaters everywhere. Hermione was surprised to see them all just hanging about. Some were sitting at the table, others spread in groups around the room. Clearly, they would have something better to do? Either that, or Hermione's timing was immaculate and she happened to coincide her first spying venture with a death eater meeting.

When Voldemort entered the room with his personal entourage, the latter proved to be true. She maneuvered around the death eaters as they made their way to sit or gather around the table. There are at least fifty in attendance. Hermione kept a safe distance so that she could breathe without attracting attention, but not too far to miss anything that was being said.

Malfoy was sitting next to his father at the table. his posture was perfect as he adjusted one of the buttons on his cuff. His face looked disinterested, but Hermione could tell by his fiddling that he was feeling nervous. That, and she knew his feelings towards the dark wizard taking the seat on his father's other side better than anyone else in the room.

Nervousness began to be replaced with anger.

Malfoy may be a prat, to put it lightly, but she had always thought it was unfair that he was forced into this war like she was. One could even argue in a worse way, from where he currently sat. Lucius was sitting between his master and his son. Malfoy sitting down was still a few inches taller than him, and his hair and more a white, shiny tone. Lucius looked…

Well, he looked haunted.

His eyes were dead, and his hair was dull. He was barely clinging on to the aristocratic arrogance that used to radiate from him. Her anger faded slightly, and she almost felt pity for him. His life was clearly better off before he tried to prohibit something so trivial as muggleborns attending the same school as his son. Was avoiding people like her learning, working, or living with his pureblood heir worth all that this war has cost? By the look of him, she would dare to say even he believed it wasn't.

"Shall we begin?"

Hermione's attention was brought back to the dark wizard standing at his seat at the table. Lucius nodded, and with a crack three house elves appeared and began to serve wine to the attendance at the table – Neddy among them. She went straight to Malfoy and set a glass in front of him, serving him first. Malfoy's eyes stayed locked forwards, not to acknowledge her. But as she finished her pour, she saw him give her the faintest of nods. If it were anyone else, Hermione could have interpreted it as a subtle thanks.

Hermione watched as Neddy filled the glasses of other death eaters, but before retreating to the side of the room with the others, she topped off Malfoy's glass again. No wonder she couldn't get away to check on Hermione during the day. She had nearly felt offended that Neddy didn't want her company, but Hermione growing restless with boredom in the safety of the suite was nothing compared to Malfoy breaking bread with Lord Voldemort.

Malfoy was always one to surround himself with others acting as a security blanket. At school it was Crabbe and Goyle. At home, it was his personal house elf. Both eager to please him, and helpless to challenge him.

"Rabastan, you are the one who called this meeting, what news do you have for us," Voldemort said, ignoring the wine and food in front of him.

"Yes, My Lord. The International Confederation of Wizards are still threatening to act against your leadership. They say they will be forced to inform the muggle public if the raids on their cities continue," Rabastan Lestrange announced.

"I have no interest in the well-being of muggles, Lestrange. Tell me that is not why you call us here."

"No, My Lord. Only that they said they would take any action necessary to avoid going public. No matter the cost." He was visibly nervous. Not only of his master's reaction, but of what will happen if they don't act appropriately.

"Let them try." Voldemort spat.

"Yes, My Lord. Its just-"

His sentence was cut off as he was hit with a curse, and he went flying across the room. Not from Voldemort, but by the wizard at his side. Hermione gaped at Lucius as he placed his new wand back into his robes.

"You dare waste the Dark Lord's time with the business of muggles? We will lay waste to them all the moment they arrive." Lucious scoffed. There are snickers and nods around the room.

"Not the muggles," Rabastan wheezed as he got himself up, the curse not discouraging his warning. "The Confederation claims they will send in reinforcements from other countries. They already have enough portkeys to travel overseas."

This had the room silent and Hermione got a surge of joy. The stupid bigots really thought the world was just going to step back the moment Harry was dead? They fought against Voldemort and his followers before Harry was even born. Of course they would keep fighting once he was no longer with them.

"Muggle raids," Voldemort laughed. "Our cause, taken out due to muggle raids."

The room joined him in his laughter. "How politics have influenced our great Confederation. As if every member has not had a fun night or two at the expense of a few muggles."

Hermione could slap him.

"Lucius, how likely could our dear friends even come to reach us?" Voldemort mused.

"Impossible. The wards have never been breached in hundreds of years. I just recently added more. No one can even approach the gates."

Yes, yes I know. Hermione thought.

"Well, there you have it. Shall we enjoy our wine?" He gestured towards the others at the table, and they began to drink. He himself still never reached for his glass.

"They plan to take the school, My Lord."

Silence.

"Pardon?"

"They-they are going to occupy Hogwarts. And send all other enforcements to wizarding towns across England."

"Ridiculous." Voldemort spat out. His fury rippled off him. It was suffocating. When she looked at Malfoy she could tell he himself was not immune. "I won the castle. No one will take it from me. It is mine."

Lestrange had finally lost his nerve. His message was now delivered, and he remained silent with the rest of the death eaters.

"My Lord?" A familiar voice sounded, and Hermione's heart sank.

It was Malfoy's.

No. No.

He was either going to say something hateful and supportive, or incredibly stupid. She wasn't sure she could bear either outcome.

"I am happy to deploy to any city to defend against the Confederation. But may I offer to be of service to protect our interest in Hogwarts?" Malfoy's voice was assured and confident.

"Well, go on little Malfoy. How are you going to fend against the invasion of foreign nations from your alma mater?" The surrounding death eaters snickered again, and Lucius did his best to fake amusement himself.

"As my father said, the wards of the manor are impenetrable. I could apply the same ones to the castle. I have access to the ancient magic upholding them, as is my birthright."

Hermione was dumbfounded.

"Assuming father permits me to inherit access to the household wards prior to my traditional inheritance."

Holy shit. The clever bastard. Was Malfoy always this clever?! Hermione held her breath, fear and excitement pumping through her veins.

"Well, little Malfoy, your offer is appreciated." He turned to address Lucius, "Do you think they would hold?"

"Of course, My Lord. It would be an honor." Lucius responded a little too flatly.

"Excellent. You'll start immediately Lucius." Voldemort turned to Malfoy, "This task will be our top priority, I am sure you'll be glad to have your father's expertise in executing it."

"You honor our family, My Lord," was Malfoy's response.

"As for the other issues," the dark wizard continued with a wave of his hand. "I have no concern with the muggle public. Let them abolish secrecy if they desire, so long as they keep their filth away from our people." The room nods and hums in agreement.

"What won't happen is the elite of the wizarding community being exiled from our own cities. Leave the muggles alone for now until the Confederation confirms support for my cause. Increase our presence in wizarding cities around England and any others you suspect are resisting. As politically attractive muggle sympathizers have become in recent years, no one would attack the bloodlines that have kept our world prospering for centuries."

At the conclusion of his statement, Rabastan eagerly nodded and exited the room with a small group. After another hour of logistics and conversations, Voldemort signaled his departure to the wizards he arrived with and was gone the next moment.

Hermione wanted to take her leave but got distracted by the side conversations in the room. She learned that wizards and witches have been raiding muggles for their diamonds and gold, the ministry taking no action for magic used in violence against them. Others were attacking muggles just because they could. The worst kind attacking to fulfill their own carnal pleasures. Hermione heard Greyback's name mentioned in most of those stories.

She saw Malfoy stand up and head to exit the room tailing his father. She followed them out, getting just close enough to not lose them. They went down the hall and enter what looked like a study, but Lucius slammed the door before Hermione could maneuver inside.

Hermione follows the path she walked on her first day there to the cellars, getting turned around a couple of times before eventually finding her way. She reached the cellar, and the door was open. The silence told her that it was empty. It has been seven days since she arrived at the Manor, and she felt dreadful while thinking about the fate of those that arrived with her.

No one could have come to save them that time, which meant the only hope of them being safe would be if the death eaters had let them go. Perhaps they were taken somewhere else. Dolohov did say they were only keeping them there temporarily. That, in addition to the outrage when they found out she had 'escaped', gave her enough hope to follow the path back up the stairs into Malfoy's rooms.

Hermione closed the door behind her and immediately returned the cloak to her bag. She had an hour before lunch and decided to write out everything she could remember. After taking her notes, she began to draw a map of the areas she had seen. She did alright on her trek, but the times she got turned around had her fearing for her life. The more she learned about the layout of the manor, the easier she would be able to maneuver through it undetected.

Lunch appeared right as she put the notes and map to keep in her bag. Neddy did not come by personally, but she knew now why it was so important to her to stay close to Malfoy during the day. She ate as much as she could. Her lack of consumption would worry Malfoy and she did not want to risk being watched again. Not when there was so much she could learn. So much she could share with what was left of the Order once she escaped.

It gave her hope. Not only hope, but a sense of power in a place where she could easily feel helpless. She may not know how to win the war, but she knew how to work towards something. She knew the power of information and how it could be the deciding factor in overcoming adversity.

Knowledge had saved lives on more than one occasion.

She spent the rest of the afternoon looking through Malfoy's bookshelf with her newfound energy. Some books were so ancient, they have undoubtedly been passed down and inherited throughout the centuries.

To keep up appearances, Hermione also selected a novel to read when Malfoy was around or inquired what she had been up to. It will also help her gage his reaction to her looking through his things. He arrived after she had finished her dinner and was already halfway through the book that she had chosen.

It was magnificent.

Her cheeks pinked a little when he entered and looked at her and she was suddenly nervous he'll ask what she was reading. She didn't mean to pick up such a powerful romance novel. How was she to know he would even have anything like that in his selection?

He didn't ask. He simply nodded to acknowledge her presence and went straight to take a shower. When he was dressed for bed and in his lounging robes, he came back into the study to make himself a drink.

He had not had his night tea once since she had been there. Hermione hardly thinks it was a coincidence.

"Would you like anything?"

"Huh?" She responded dumbly.

"You're staring. If you want to have an adult beverage, go right ahead. Just don't tell anyone where you got it," he remarked sarcastically.

"I'm older than you," she responded. "And I have no problem indulging in adult beverages responsibly. And when it is appropriate."

"No time like the present," he said as he fell into his chair. It was the one that was to the right of the couch where Hermione always sat. She assumed it was so he could stare out the window while ignoring her.

"What?"

"What?"

"You're still staring," he called out with a long drink.

"You just look like you have something you want to tell me." She said with no finesse. Oh God. Didn't people used to say she was smart?

"Nope." He alleged with a pop.

Liar. Hermione desperately wanted him to tell her about the meeting. There were a million things she had been thinking about since it happened. More so, she wanted an opportunity to thank him for trying, to Voldemort's face, to once again help her escape.

"Okay, then." She muttered instead.

"Good day?"

"Hm?" Oh, bloody hell.

He just stared at her after that.

What should she say? She had to say something, or she was going to make him suspicious. Well, more suspicious. She just stared at him dumbly and then he started to look around.

His eyes fell to the book, and he grinned.

"Granger," he smirked, fighting back a laugh as he looked from the book up at her.

Her breath hitched and her face instantly heated. Oh no.

No, no, no!

She'd rather hand over the cloak.

"I just started it! The cover looked good enough and I was so bored. And you leave me here alone all-day mind you," she rambled.

She hadn't just started the book. Hermione was invested in it enough to know exactly why Malfoy was looking at her with that face.

He finally laughed and shook his head. He finished his drink in one swing and then returned from the drink cart with another. Back in his chair, he crossed his ankle on his knee, clearly enjoying Hermione's embarrassment.

"You really are filthy."

Hermione stormed off to the bathroom at his statement, Malfoy shouting behind her as she left. Something about her needing privacy to wind down, but she ignored him and slammed the door.

Committed to staying there until the war was over, she drew herself a bath. After about a half hour, she started to think over the romantic novel she had been reading. Hermione had been so caught up in his reaction, she didn't even give the boy sleeping on the other side of the door a hard time for possessing it in the first place.