Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Warner Bros Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: Hello everyone! This one is going to be a 5 part short story. Hope you guys will like it. Reviews are much appreciated! :)

Knockturn Alley hadn't changed much since the return of He Who Must Not Be Named or the start of the war. Business continued, perhaps even flourished a bit. The cobblestone street was lined with vendors hawking everything and anything from Love Potions to cures to death. Witches and Wizards haggled over prices but mostly kept to themselves.

The lone, cloaked figure who limped along the road was hardly noticed. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this place to settle. Despite the pleasant fall weather, he wore his cloak tightly bound and his hood raised. If anything, it would had been his hair that would give any clue to his identity. Little else was recognizable. Gone was his confident stride and easy smirk.

He rarely left the little flat he called home these days. Focused on his errand, he ignored the merchants who called to him. When he reached his destination he quickly slipped inside the old shop.

"Ah! Mr. Malfoy! It's been a long time."

Draco ignored Mr. Borgin's attempt at pleasantries, removed his hood and pulled a small box from inside his cloak. He placed the plain wooden box upon the counter. Borgin eyed it for a moment and then, deeming it to be safe enough, picked it up to carefully examine it. He mumbled to himself,

"Hmm, looks to be thirteenth century... well made... decent enough shape..."

"How much?" Draco interrupted.

"I can give you ten galleons for it."

"Ten? It's worth five times that at least."

"People have little to spend these days on trinkets, Mr. Malfoy."

"Trinkets? I would think a Vanishing Box would be a highly useful item these days."

"Perhaps."

"Fine," Draco picked the box up, "I'll see what it will fetch on the black market."

"Now, wait. I'm a reasonable man, Mr. Malfoy! Why, I've been doing business with your family for years."

"I won't take less than fifty."

"Fifty!" Mr. Borgin laughed. "Oh, dear boy, you drive a hard bargain. I'll give you twenty five."

"I know how rare this piece is, Mr. Borgin. My father held onto it for a reason."

The old man hesitated. The boy was right. The box was valuable and quite useful for those who wished to hide certain objects. He had many clients who would snatch it up in a heartbeat. He'd sell it within a week. "Forty. That's my final offer."

He was a business man, after all. Draco nodded, knowing when to give in.

"It's such a pity," Mr. Borgin said, "having to sell off your father's treasures."

"Yes, well, it's a good thing then that he's in Azkaban and can be spared this horrible tragedy." Draco quipped.

He left the shop fuming over Borgin's little jab. How dare he! Draco was so angry that he stumbled into a vendor who had set up shop on the curb.

"Wotcher, mate! Need a slave?"

The man had yellow teeth and standing behind him was a small group of sad souls bound by their wrists. Muggles. It was a product of the war, Muggles were kidnapped and sold into slavery. It had become quite a status symbol for Purebloods to have a Muggle slave. Draco sneered at the man before moving on.

He took only a few steps when something made him stop and take another look. One of the Muggles looked familiar and he went back for a closer look. The young woman was standing and staring straight ahead, a rather blank look on her face. Her long hair was tangled, in need of a good wash and her clothing was torn and dirty.

Dirty Mudblood. The words echoed in Draco's mind. How many times had he used those words? He shuddered with guilt. He really had believed he was better than Muggle borns and that they didn't have the right to study Magic. That's what he'd been taught growing up.

It used to infuriate him to no end that this one in particular was so successful at Hogwarts. How could someone with no magical blood have such talent? Then there were those like Longbottom or Goyle who had to work so hard at it. Then of course you had Squibs.

Was it really a matter of blood? After all, Draco knew Voldemort's dirty little secret. Most Witches and Wizards did, even Voldemort's most ardent Death Eaters. Somehow, the Muggle side of his parentage didn't seem to be an issue. Snape was also half blooded. Draco had begun to accept the fact that there were very few Purebloods.

Once sequestered in Knockturn Alley, he had loads of time to brood over these things. For the first time in his life he wasn't surrounded by anti Muggle sentiments. When he saw the article about the raid in Hogsmeade and read the familiar names, he had been affected. It became all too real for him. But of all the names, it wasn't the students from Slytherin that bothered him most, it was seeing her name. It was the first time he felt guilt for his actions.

The girl he had openly abhorred and abused all those years at Hogwarts was dead at the age of seventeen. He wanted the chance to apologize to her, to tell her he no longer believed in his old prejudices. Knowing he would never have that chance left him with an empty feeling that lingered until now. It couldn't be her, he argued to himself. The girl turned to him and their eyes met. There was no doubt then. Even though the fire was gone from her eyes, it was her, Hermione Granger. If she recognized him, she didn't show it. He approached the vendor.

"How much for the girl?" Draco asked.

"Excuse me, Sir?"

"How much do you want for the girl?"

"Ah! A deal at twenty five galleons!" Draco handed the man the money which he pocketed greedily. With a wide, yellowed smile he handed the ropes which bound Hermione's wrists over to Draco. "Pleasure doin' business with you Sir!"

Draco did not respond nor take the rope from the man's hands, instead he placed a hand around Hermione's arm and led her away. She didn't struggle, didn't say anything and didn't even glance at Draco. She was probably drugged, maybe Obedientem, he thought.

He had no idea what to do with her. He only knew that he had to get her off the street before she was sold to some loathsome wizard who would ill use her or someone realized who she was and the news reached the Death Eaters.

It wasn't a long walk back to the flat which was located above a shop that sold 'rare' potion ingredients. He led Hermione up a very dark and narrow staircase. "I hope you weren't expecting Malfoy Manor," Draco mumbled as they entered a humble sitting room.

"Master Draco Sir!" a voice chirped. "You didn't tell Dinky you was bringing company!" A small house elf, wearing a pink napkin like a sarong, almost sounded like she was admonishing him.

"I didn't know either." Draco answered as he removed the bindings from Hermione's wrists, underneath the rough rope her skin was red and raw.

"Is Dinky being replaced with a Muggle slave?!" Her words quivered and her huge, protuberant eyes filled with tears.

"No, Dink. This is Granger. We went to Hogwarts together."

"Oh!" The little elf clapped her hands and jumped up and down. "Master Draco Sir has never had a guest before!"

"Fix a bath and the bed for her, will you Dink?"

"Yes! Dinky will make a bath bubble!" The elf tugged gently on the hem of Hermione's skirt and led her to the loo while chatting away. Hermione followed obediently.
The elf filled the deep claw foot tub with a warm bubble bath in a flash with her elf magic. "The bath is ready Ms Granger," she squeaked. "Dinky will finds some nice clean clothes for you to puts on."

Hermione stood alone, her mind foggy. The Muggle slaver gave his slaves an elixir to keep them docile and manageable. A side effect was that memories were blurred, even forgotten. Hermione couldn't place the blond man but he seemed familiar.

She decided that a bath would be lovely since it had obviously been some time since she washed. After stripping off her clothing, she stepped into the inviting tub. It was heavenly; warm and flowery, and the bubbles tickled her nose. She was glad to be free from the awful man with the yellow teeth.

She was glad to be able to wash. She was glad to be out of her filthy clothes. There was a tiny knock at the door and the house elf poked her head inside. "Dinky has clothes for you Ms Granger."

"Thank you," Hermione answered. It was the first time in days she had used her voice and it was hoarse.

"Don't tell Master Draco Sir," Dinky whispered, "but Dinky transfigured one of Master Draco Sir's shirts." Hermione couldn't help but smile at the elf's glee.
Magically, of course, the dress Dinky transfigured fit perfectly and was very comfortable. The elf helped to comb the tangles from Hermione's hair and then dried it magically. "Dinky is getting the supper ready now Ms Granger."

"Please call me Hermione."

"Oh, yes, Ms Gra-mione."

The elf left and Hermione went into the small bedroom that Dinky prepared. The small room barely contained its meager furnishings; a bed, a dresser and a chair. Hermione smiled at the sight of a proper bed with its covers turned down and its cosy quilt and fluffy white pillow. She could hardly contain herself. She lay down on the bed and believed it was the softest bed she has ever lay on. She slipped underneath the covers without any thought and soon her eyes drifted closed. She was asleep almost instantly.

Hermione woke to sunlight and the aroma of coffee. Stretching, she took in her surroundings, trying to recall how she ended up there. Her head throbbed, an effect of the potion leaving her system. She recalled the man with yellow teeth and the blond man buying her... Malfoy! The last she had heard of Malfoy was the night Dumbledore was killed. It was assumed he joined the Death Eaters and it was no surprise when he didn't return to Hogwarts in the fall, not that he would had been allowed of course.

Her heart beat quickly as she rose from the bed and cautiously went to the door. She opened it slowly, surprised it wasn't locked. She heard Dinky's squeaky, excitable voice and the sound made her smile.

She stepped into the sitting room, where Draco was seated on a stuffed chair that looked like it had seen better days. He was reading the Daily Prophet and didn't look up when Hermione entered the room. A fire was burning in the fireplace and Dinky was seated on the floor by Draco's feet, chatting away, oblivious to the fact that he was reading. The little elf noticed Hermione and jumped up at once.

"Ms. Geranium! Dinky has breakfast. There's coffee and tea and sugar and milk and cream and toasts and croissants and jams..."

"Thank you, Dinky." Hermione smiled and sat down on the threadbare sofa and helped herself to the food. She eyed Draco warily, still hidden behind his paper. There was something odd about him, something that was different somehow, and she was trying to place it.

"Dinky is going to the apothecary to gets some healing herbs for Ms. Gramger's hurts. Dinky will fix up Ms. Hermerone good as new. Healing spells are Dinky's specialty! Dinky fixed up Master Dra-"

"Enough, Dink." Draco interrupted the house elf. Dinky looked abashed for a moment, her large ears folding down a bit. She was quiet for only a moment before moving on to another topic.

"Does Ms. Germane wants anything from town?"

"I need to owl my-"

"You can't." Draco stated.

She turned to him. "Why not?"

"Well, you can, but it wouldn't be very smart. Everyone thinks you were killed in that attack on Hogsmeade."

"Killed? What attack?" She whispered.

"Don't you remember? The Death Eaters raided Hogsmeade during a Hogwarts' weekend. Several people were killed. Your name was on the list in the Daily Prophet."
"But, they wouldn't have found any of my... remains..."

"The area was decimated. You were gone so people assumed you had been killed."

"Ginny!" Hermione remembered being in Hogsmeade with her friend. "Is she all right?!"

Draco shrugged. "Her name hasn't been in the papers."

"Who was killed in the attack?"

Draco reached over to a pile of papers and handed Hermione the issue with the article on the attack.

She read the article quickly, shocked to read the names of her Hogwarts peers. The Death Eaters had been responsible for the attack. Hermione looked at Draco.

"Show me your arm," she demanded. Draco was a bit taken aback at her request, but he pulled up the left sleeve of his shirt with little hesitation. Hermione's stomach clenched when the Dark Mark was revealed. He quickly covered the tattoo. "Why did you bring me here? Were you part of the attack? Are you planning to take me to Voldemort?"

Draco smirked. "Always the curious Gryffindor, huh Granger?"

"Still the snarky Slytherin, Malfoy?"

"You're here because I paid good money for you."

"I see, and now I am your own personal Muggle slave?"

"It's quite the rage right now." "And what's to keep me here?"

"Your safety."

"What do you mean?"

"Aren't you supposed to be clever or something? You have the perfect cover. That idiot who sold you had no idea who you were or else he would had turned you over to the Death Eaters for more than a mere 25 galleons. As far as Voldemort knows, the brains of the golden trio is gone. The fewer that people know the truth, the safer you are."

"Why should I trust you?"

"There's nothing I can say that will convince you."

Hermione sat in silence, brooding. "Why are you here, in Knockturn Alley?"

"The Death Eater dorms were full."

Hermione huffed. She knew she wasn't going to get any more information from him and yet, for some odd reason, she trusted him, to a certain extent. If he was planning to turn her over to Voldemort, wouldn't he had done that already? And Dinky, she hardly seemed frightened of him. More than anything, that set her mind at ease.

Hermione couldn't sleep. She had gone to bed early hoping for a quick end to the day, instead, her mind was racing. Giving up on sleep, she decided to go to the sitting room to read. Quietly she crept into the room, not wanting to disturb Dinky who would probably wake, anxious to help and chat. The fire was still burning brightly and the house elf was curled up into a little ball upon a blanket, her large ears twitched as she dreamed.

Hermione stopped short, surprised to find Draco asleep on the small sofa, his head resting against a rather flat cushion, one foot on the floor and a small throw barely covering him. Hermione was embarrassed. It didn't occur to her that he had given up his bed for her.

She returned to the bedroom, removed one of the blankets from the bed and brought it to the sitting room where she carefully placed it over Draco. The following morning, she watched Draco read the paper and thought about how pitiful he had looked sleeping on the sofa.

"What happened to your leg?" Hermione asked, cutting through the silence. Draco glanced up at her and then turned back to the paper. "I injured it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "How did you injure it?"

"Master Draco Sir doesn't like talking about it." Dinky whispered loudly.

"I see. Well, you should take the bed. I'll sleep on the sofa."

Draco responded with a shrug but Dinky protested loudly. "Oh no! Ms Hermiger is Master Draco Sir's guest! He can't lets his guest sleep on the sofa!"

"It's all right Dinky." Hermione assured the agitated elf.

Dinky turned to Draco, a horrified expression on her face.

"It would be rude not to accommodate our guest's request." Draco explained.

Dinky looked confused. Surely there was something wrong with this reasoning. "It'll be fun Dinky, us girls will have the sitting room."

"Oh, Dinky's sorry Ms Hermiger, Dinky must stay with Master Draco Sir in cases his bad dre "

"Dinky!" Draco shouted, a bit too loudly. The house elf and Hermione both jumped. "That's none of Granger's business."

"Sorry, Master Draco Sir. Dinky just wanted Ms Granimone to know "

"I don't think our guest needs to know every little detail of my life." He tossed the paper to the floor and stood. "I'm going to take a nap, in my bed."

Hermione waited a moment after she heard the bedroom door close and in a quiet voice asked Dinky, "Did the Death Eaters hurt Draco's leg?"

Dinky looked as if she wasn't sure she should answer the question but wanted very much to please Hermione. Her ears waggled as she nodded.

"Does he ever see them now?"

Dinky's eyes grew very wide indeed as she vigorously shook her head no.

Draco closed the door to the bedroom. Why did Granger have to be so bloody curious? Wasn't it enough that he brought her here? It was as annoying as Dinky's constant chatter. At least he had the bedroom back and could close the door to escape. He lay down upon the bed that Hermione had neatly made up and his mind began to wander.

He had been so cocky, so boastful and sure of himself at the start of his sixth year at Hogwarts. He'd been so keen to avenge his father and prove himself. Slowly that confidence chipped away and it wasn't long before he had been bawling like a baby to Moaning Myrtle.

If that wasn't humiliating enough, having Potter burst in on the scene was mortifying. So much so that Draco hurled a curse at him without any thought. He was dumbfounded when hit with Potter's hex.

Potter seemed just as shocked.

Things continued to get worse. He couldn't go through with Voldemort's orders and he knew if he didn't his family was in danger. He often replayed that night in his head, hearing Dumbledore's offer to help, to give him a way out, to protect him and his parents. But then the Death Eaters arrived followed by Snape and suddenly it was over, Dumbledore was gone. It all happened so quickly.

Draco ran with the rest of them. His mind ceased to process information and his body took over. He ran as fast as he ever had and the chaos around him fueled him on. Once he had left school grounds he Aparated, as planned, meeting up with his fellow Death Eaters and The Dark Lord himself.

Draco knew he had made a terrible mistake. Alecto and Amycus informed Voldemort of Draco's hesitation and that Snape had been the one to kill the old wizard. Draco did his best to convince the dark wizard that he intended to kill Dumbledore but things became confused and chaotic.

Voldemort didn't buy it and Draco's punishment was severe. He was taken to a bare room where he was kept for several days and questioned by various members. Voldemort wanted to know exactly what Dumbledore had said to him and every detail of what happened. Draco had no idea how many times he had to relive that night. Food was with held and his sleep was interrupted regularly. He was cursed with Crucio as well a few other creative hexes. He lost track of time and was to the point of not caring. He assumed that he would eventually be thrown at Voldemort's feet and the dark wizard would deliver a swift and powerful Aveda Kadavra.

When he was escorted from his cell he was actually thankful for an end to his torture. That was not to be the case. Instead, the Death Eater Aparated him into a heavily forested area in the dark of night. He said nothing as he deposited Draco's body onto the ground and Disaparated, leaving Draco to die. He lay upon the cold ground surrounded by darkness filled with ominous noises from the forest. He was too exhausted and weak to be frightened. He woke several hours later only to find himself surrounded by several centaurs. His heart began to beat fiercely as he met his fate, perhaps that had been the plan all along, he thought.

"He's injured," one of the centaurs spoke.

"He's a human and in our territory."

"Can you stand, human?"

Draco attempted it with great difficulty, only to sway and fall to the ground.

"We cannot kill a wounded animal, Bane."

"Leave him then, he'll die eventually." The one called Bane led the others away and Draco was uncertain whether to be grateful or not. He simply lay on the leaf riddled ground, the smell of earth strong and pungent and the sound of the wind blowing through the branches of the trees above him.

He wondered if his mother was still alive or if Voldemort had her killed as he threatened to do. If she had been killed then perhaps he would be reunited with her in death. Perhaps he would see Dumbledore as well. He'd like to apologise to him.

He felt something press into his side, turning him over. He opened his eyes and saw a lone centaur towering over him. He managed to sit up, frightened that the creature had returned to kill him.

"Climb on my back," the centaur ordered and kneeled down upon his knees to accommodate Draco's weakness. "Where are you taking me?" Draco asked before moving.

"Out of the forest, near the edge of the village where you can get help but we must hurry before I'm discovered, otherwise we'll both be killed."

Draco pulled himself onto the centaur's back, managing to lay on his stomach awkwardly. The centaur moved swiftly but slowly so prevent Draco from slipping off. At last the reached the edge of the forest where the trees thinned and the sky was visible.

"This is as far as I can take you, Human."

Draco slid down onto the ground.

"Thank you."

The centaur nodded and was off, galloping back into the forest. Draco was able to make the trek into town and found himself in Hogsmeade. He quickly headed to Knockturn Alley where he was most likely to go unnoticed. He found a Floo connection and went to Malfoy manor, despite the danger.

He found the house empty and the furniture covered in white sheets. It was obvious his mother had fled and he felt some relief. The house elves were gone except for Dinky who had been commanded by Narcissa to wait for Draco in case he returned.

He gathered a few items from his home, including several objects he could sell in order to have money and returned to Knockturn Alley unable to think of another place to hide. Every day he read the Daily Prophet from front to back hoping not to find his mother's name in one of the articles. If he did it would only mean one thing, she had been found dead.

In Dinky's vigilance to be a good hostess, she had bought a few books for Hermione to read. The elf hadn't known what an avid reader Granger was and Hermione had been thrilled when the house elf presented her with three books.

Of course, Dinky had no idea the young woman's taste in books but Hermione hid her disappointment with the selection; A Young Witches Guide to Boys, Fashion and Beauty, an autobiography of Celestina Warbeck and The Adventures of Emma Dibb, The Squib.

Malfoy had not been so polite and laughed out loud when he saw the books. Hermione smacked him soundly on the arm so that Dinky wouldn't be offended or run off to find more books.

"It was very thoughtful," she hissed.

"Well, this one might be useful," he sniggered, holding up the guide on boys, fashion and beauty.

Hermione huffed but it was nice to hear some laughter, even if it was at her own expense.

Hermione set down Warbeck's biography, which, to her complete chagrin, she found fascinating.

Looking out the window, she wondered how much more she could take. It was such a waste of her time, hiding! She should be at Hogwarts and helping Ron and Harry find the last remaining Horcruxes.

Hermione argued with herself about whether to leave or stay. She felt confident Draco wouldn't try to stop her which only made her more nervous about trying. She was in the middle of Knockturn Alley and who knew who could be out there.

She observed Draco in between her internal arguments. He was obviously not the same since he had left Hogwarts. Of course, the change had begun during his sixth year. What intrigued her most was the reason he brought her here. Had he intended to use her as a slave? It seemed like a possible form of humiliation he might have enjoyed but he had hardly said a word to her, let alone order her about.

Was he planning to use her for some gain? Either as a favour for Voldemort or maybe a bargaining piece from the Ministry? If either case was true, then he would surely want to keep her from leaving.

The most unlikely theory for her to accept was that he had simply rescued her. Was that possible?

She stood up suddenly and began pacing. Dinky watched her with wide, anxious eyes. Draco looked up lazily from his paper. "Do you mind, Granger?"

"Yes! Yes I mind! How long do you bloody well plan on staying here!?" her voice raised and Dinky covered her ears and began rocking back and forth.

"Language, Granger."

"I'm serious!" She grabbed Malfoy's paper and tossed it aside. "How long do you intend to hide here!?"

"As long as I have to."

"Damnit, Malfoy! Give me a real answer!"

"I don't know..." He answered, trying to remain clam.

"Until the war ends? Until Voldemort is killed? Until the Ministry of Magic or the Death Eaters come pounding on the door?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Draco yelled and Hermione finally backed off. She stood and crossed her arms.

"I can't take this any more."

"Then leave."

"Come with me."

"No."

"The Order will protect you. I know that Dumbledore offered you and your parents protection"

"Yeah, right before he was killed."

"They will still protect you."

"Why? I plotted to kill Dumbledore. I almost killed Katie Bell and your boyfriend in the process! I let Death Eaters onto school grounds..." Draco choked. He was trying to keep calm but it was so infuriating. Granger was being naive and unrealistic.

"You could offer information." "Oh yes, quite useful stuff too; what the Death Eater cells are like and their interrogation process."

"What are you talking about?"

"Why do you think I'm here?! This is not a bloody holiday!"

"They let you go?"

"I don't think they intended for me to survive."

"What did they do to you, Draco?" Hermione's eyes were filled with concern. There was a part of him that wanted to tell her but instead he shook his head. "Nothing they haven't done to others. The thing is, Granger, I would probably still be with them if I hadn't failed."

"But you did fail, Draco. You didn't kill Dumbledore. Harry was there and saw and heard everything. He was hidden and couldn't interfere."

Draco was stunned into silence. Dinky cautiously withdrew her hands from her ears and watched the scene carefully. Draco ran his hands through his hair. "I wanted to save my arse, Granger. I wanted to protect my parents."

"Then let's go to the Order and ask them for help before it's too late."

"Who am I to ask for their help when all I've done my whole life is support the side they're fighting? You go, I won't stop you."

"Don't go Ms Germiger!" Dinky suddenly squeaked. With tears flooding her eyes, she ran to Hermione's side and held her hand. "Don't leave Master Draco Sir and Dinky!"

"I'm not," she sighed. "Not without you and Master Draco Sir."

Draco went to the lone dresser and removed a book from underneath the clothing. He smiled to himself knowing that Granger would kill for a book to read. Of course, he would hardly be able to explain it, like so many things in his life these days. He lay down upon the bed and began to read.

However, soon he fell asleep.

There a knock on his door, waking him. "Yes?"

Hermione stuck her head inside, "Dinner is serv- What is that!?"

It took Draco a moment to understand what she was referring to. She barged into his room and before he could protest and took the book laying beside him on the bed, the book written by a Muggle.

"The Hobbit! Where did this come from?" She shouted at Draco.

"I'm reading it!"

"Oh, I get it. You didn't want me to know you were reading a Muggle book. Interesting. First you rescue a Muggle born from slavery and now you're reading Muggle novels. If I didn't know better, Malfoy, I'd say you were on your way to being converted." She handed him the book and left the room.

That evening, while Hermione was resigned to reading the Daily Prophet horoscopes, Draco brought his copy of The Hobbit out to read. He made a great display of having the book, getting comfortable in his chair, clearing his throat and flipping through the pages. Hermione ignored his attempts to rile her.

"Have you read it before?" She asked.

"Hmm? Oh, no. Contrary to what some make think, this is my first Muggle book."

"Where did you get it?"

"I'm not sure where I found it..."

"From the Malfoy library!" Dinky piped up. Hermione giggled and Draco glared at the elf. Dinky didn't notice this and continued talking. "Yes, they has a whole section of Muggle authors up on the tops shelf, Bickens, Spearshake..."

"Yes, Dink, that's enough."

"Will you read to me?" Hermione asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't your parents ever read to you?"

"Yes, when I was a child."

"One's never too old to be read to."

"But I've already started it."

"That's OK, I've read it several times."

"Then why do you want me to read it to you?"

"It's one of my favorite books. Besides, it's nice to be read to."

"Dinky wants to hear the story Master Draco Sir!"

Draco knew it would be fruitless to argue so he gave in, reluctantly, and began another chapter of Bilbo's adventure. However, in protest, Draco read quickly and in monotone. Dinky was a bit confused and sat there wondering why anyone enjoyed hearing stories if this is what they were like. But, like the good little house elf she was, she sat quietly.

Of course, Tolkien did not lend itself to this style of reading and eventually emotion crept into his words and the story came to life. An hour later, Dinky was wide eyed and rapt with attention but Draco was loosing his voice.

"Please don't stop Master Draco Sir!" Dinky pleaded. Draco placed a finger to his lips and motioned to Hermione who had fallen asleep. Dinky clapped a hand to her mouth and nodded. She went to stoke the fire while Draco took the quilt from the back of the sofa and placed it over Hermione.

"May I see your Dark Mark again?"

"No."

"Please."

"Why?"

"I'm just curious. I didn't get a good look at it before."

"That was intentional."

"Why?"

"It's not something I'm proud of, Granger."

She was touched by this admission. Unfortunately, it made her even more curious. "I've been wondering if there's a way to remove it."

"There isn't. I've tried."

"Oh, is that what the red marks were?" She asked innocently.

Draco looked up from his book. "I thought you didn't get a good look at it."

"I didn't but now that you mention it, I do remember seeing other markings." Draco didn't respond so she continued. "At least let me try."

"It's not possible." "Anything is possible, Draco."

He sighed heavily. By now he had learned how incredibly stubborn she could be and he just wanted to drop the subject. He thought perhaps if he showed her, she would. He unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt sleeve and slowly folded the material to expose his pale forearm.

"Dear Merlin..." she gasped.

When he showed her the tattoo the last time, it had been from across the room. Now he was close enough to touch and it was worse than she had thought. Various red slashes crisscrossed over the Dark Mark, distorting it somewhat but it was still clearly visible. Realization dawned on her.

"You tried to cut it off?" He shrugged as he put his sleeve right and avoided her eyes. Suspision crept into Hermione's stomach. "Show me your other arm," she demanded. Draco was totally taken aback.

"No!" He was not about to get caught up in another struggle so he made to leave when Hermione reacted quickly and took hold of his arm. For a moment he thought she was going to force his sleeve up. Instead, she held onto his arm gently and looked at him pleadingly. "Go on then," he nodded angrily. Reluctantly, Hermione unbuttoned the shirt cuff and gently pulled the sleeve up, exposing his right forearm. Red scars marked the otherwise pale skin. Something tugged inside her and her eyes automatically filled with tears. She very gently pulled the sleeve back into it's proper place and buttoned the cuff.

Draco felt his face heat with shame. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide the scars forever but the last person he had expected to see them was Hermione Granger. It seemed to take her ages to pull the sleeve up and then to put it back. He kept his eyes averted, anxious to leave the room.

He felt something wet on his hand and, instinctively, he turned to see what it had been. He had not expected to find Hermione sitting there with tears streaming down her face. He knew she wouldn't be the type to chastise him for his weakness but he had not expected such emotion. He simply stared at the girl while she fumbled with the button.

She raised her eyes to meet his and whispered, "I'm sorry, Draco."

He pulled his arm back, unsure of how to respond. A uncomfortable silence settled heavily around them and neither was able to speak. At last Draco left the room. The following day, Draco stayed in the bedroom. Dinky was distraught. "Dinky doesn't know what to do Ms. Hermergine! Master Draco Sir's got no fevers or coughs or aches..."

"Sometimes people just need some time alone, Dinky."

But Hermione was worried as well. She had wrecked the wall Draco had built to protect himself and in doing so, opened a wound. She wanted to help some how. She knocked gently upon the closed door Draco hid behind. When there was no response, she opened the door a bit and called his name.

"Go away, Granger."

"No."

Hesitantly, she came into the room and sat down upon the edge of the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed his eyelids tight, emotion bubbling in his gut at her touch. Try as he might, he couldn't stem the tears that trickled from his closed eyes. He hadn't cried since Potter found him blubbering away in Myrtle's loo. At that time, he had been humiliated but this time, there was a sense of relief. It was as if he had been holding up a very heavy load and was finally able to set it down.

"You're not alone in this, Draco."

He continued to sob and Hermione felt her heart ache for him. She had no idea what words of comfort to offer him so instead, she lay down and wrapped an arm around him. Eventually, his sobbing calmed, his body stilled and he drifted off to sleep. She closed her eyes as well and soon joined him.

Dinky came into the room quietly so as not to disturb Draco. She went to his bedside to check on him and was surprised to find Hermione curled up with him, the two of them sleeping soundly.

Draco had difficulty with sleep; falling asleep, staying asleep and often having nightmares. Dinky would sometimes make a sleeping draught and if he had a particularly bad nightmare, she would give him a calming potion. The elf was impressed with whatever kind of magic Hermione had used and thought it safe to curl up in front of the fire to sleep where she liked it best.

Draco stirred and opened his eyes. It was still early, the sky violet with the first of the sun's light. He could feel Hermione molded to his body and hear her gentle breathing. He recalled the last two days; how exposed he had felt and then breaking down and letting go.

He wasn't sure how he felt at the moment; embarrassed or relieved. A part of him felt uncomfortable about breaking down in front of Hermione but another part of him felt a sense of peace for the first time in months. Hermione stirred behind him, nuzzling her face into his back. Draco closed his eyes and placed his hand on hers before falling back to sleep. Hermione woke sometime later with the sun light shining into the room. She was surprised to find herself still curled up behind Draco with her arm wrapped around him. It was as if neither had moved at all during the night.

She wondered why Dinky had not woke her to shoo her from the room so that she could resume her role of Draco's care giver. Where was the elf? Hermione looked to see if Dinky was curled up asleep on the floor. Her movement woke Draco and he turned his head. Hermione looked at him, feeling a bit awkward. "How are you?" "Fine," he answered, though he wasn't sure that was entirely true. He moved onto his back and closed his eyes again.

"Draco," Hermione spoke gently, "I think it's time to go to the Order for help. We can offer them assistance. They may even have some information on your mother."
Draco sighed heavily, his chest rising and falling slowly. "OK," he agreed at last.