Chapter 1 – Carnevale

Hermione was very excited on her graduation day as she walked proudly up to Professor Dumbledore to receive her scroll. She was feeling on top of the world, everything she had ever wanted in life – Head Girl of Hogwarts in her year, valedictorian and acceptance as a trainee Auror with McGonagall – had come true. Her parents were proud of her and immediately after graduation they had given her an all expense paid trip to any place in Europe. Hermione had always wanted to visit Italy and the opportunity presented itself when she received a letter from Gianluca, a family friend. He had invited her to visit Venice and experience the Carnevale, the annual festival before the Christian Lent season.

The train arrived at the Stazione di Santa Lucia in Venice a day before the festival and already there were many tourists bustling around on a cold spring morning. Hermione was lugging her heavy suitcase of silk and wool costumes for the festival. She had read about the major event where Venetians don spectacular masks and costumes for a ten-day street party but all the reading didn't prepare her for the real thing. Standing at the entrance of the train station, she was mesmerized the spill of churches and strange tilting buildings along murky green canals. The peal of church bells mixed with the sound of vaporettos (water buses) plying the Grand Canal was heard amidst the chatter of tourists. Venice remained very much a distinctly romantic and mysterious place inspiring countless writers and poets.

"Hermione! Welcome to La Serenissima," a voice called out from the crowd.

"Gianluca!" she dropped her luggage and hugged her friend. He looked just the way she remembered him--a portly middle-aged man with dark eyes and balding head. Gianluca was a medical doctor in his own practice and had remained a bachelor. Hermione's mother had hoped he would marry and settle down but he always told her with a knowing smile, "I already have a god-daughter in Hermione. What more could I want?"

"Come, I've got a place ready for you," he said enthusiastically as he took her luggage and jumped into a nearby water taxi. Gianluca brought her to a lovely studio apartment on the fourth floor with a magnificent view of the Rialto Bridge. He told her that his friend was out of town and had agreed to let her use it for the time being.

"I'll pick you up at six o'clock. Ciao!

Flopping down on the soft bed, she wondered what Harry and Ron were doing back home. She resisted the urge to owl them about her holiday – they would be insanely jealous of her. Anyway, they would be meeting again in a month to begin their Auror training at Hogwarts. Hermione kept her wand away. Tonight, I'll join the muggles and have fun!

It had started to drizzle in the evening but it didn't dampen the dazzling fervor of the Venetian crowds. Hermione had worn a yellow-gold Elizabethan gown made from silk and lace. It had a full skirt and bodice, fairly conventional by carnival standards but extremely heavy. Donning a pretty half-mask of feathers and sequins, Hermione was virtually unrecognizable as Gianluca stared with his mouth open.

"What is it?" she asked coyly.

"Tu sei bellassima," came his reply as he grasped his chest. You are very beautiful. "Oh, my heart..."

Hermione laughed and playfully swatted his arm. Gianluca was dressed as a harlequin, the opposite of her regal costume. They must have made quite an odd couple as they drew curious stares from crowds who were also making their way to San Marco Square. Gianluca said they would meet his friends at the nearby trattoria for some food later.

As soon as they reached San Marco Square, tumblers, jesters and mimes performing their acts greeted them as children threw confetti into the air. She was impressed by some of the glitters, spangles and furs worn by the revelers as they paraded, preened and paused for photos. They watched a parade of floats along the Grand Canal. Everyone was ludicrously excited about the event. Gianluca took her through the narrow streets and alleyways of Venice to avoid the maddening crowd but at every turn there were parties, drinking and dancing.

They ate panini and drank prosecco wine at one of the trattorrias tucked in the back streets of Venice. There was a heightened sense of merriment and general irresponsibility as Hermione received her share of catcalls, hisses and whistles from amorous men.

She chose to ignore them and watched the fun from her seat. Gianluca was enjoying himself as he openly flirted with the women there.

"Hermione! Why are you sitting there alone?" he asked in drunken stupor.

"I'm fine, Luca. Don't worry about me," she said with a smile.

"No. I HAVE to do something... see that signor over there by the bar? He's alone too."

Hermione was puzzled by Gianluca's muffled point when she noticed the tall gentleman dressed in a Moorish costume standing by the bar. He was wearing a bejeweled turban, velvet black half mask and a black fur-trimmed cloak around his broad shoulders. She blushed furiously when he said, "Go over there and kiss him."

She made a face. "Luca, you're disgusting."

He gave her a mischievous wink. "You have to have a feeling of recklessness and abandon to truly enjoy the Carnevale. Come on, take the challenge."

"Ha! I will bet ten euros that she will not do it," one of Luca's friends said.

"I accept!" Luca said confidently as they placed their bets on the table.

Kissing a stranger was totally unacceptable but the Moor intrigued her. Suddenly, an idea started to form in her mind. She could mistake him for a friend and apologize for it later. No one could recognize her in costume. It was perfect!

Hermione turned to Gianluca and declared, "All right. I'll do it."

"That's the spirit," she heard him say as she made her way to the Moor. She walked up to him and tapped him on the shoulder boldly to get his attention. "Pietro? Pietro Dante! Vieni qui e baciami," she said loudly. Come here and kiss me.

She couldn't tell his expression behind the mask but she felt inexplicably drawn to his mysterious appearance. She placed both her hands on his shoulders and kissed him lightly on his pale lips.

Hermione was surprised by the softness and warmth of his mouth as her heart skipped a beat. She began to pull away but he caught her hand and said in a low voice, "Guardisi da, e'piu facile dare un bacio che dimenticarlo." Beware, it is easier to give a kiss than to forget it.

"Oh, mi dispiace. E'solo colpa mia," she said quickly flushing pink with embarrassment. "Ho pensato che foste Pietro." Oh, I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I thought you were Pietro.

He waved his hand. "Non importa. Ti posso offrire qualcosa drink?" Forget it. Can I offer you a drink?

"Signor, vino per la signorina," he told the bartender. Wine for the lady.

Hermione started but decided to oblige him and sat down. "Grazie." Thank you.

"Piacere. E'da sola?" he asked. My pleasure, are you here on your own?

"No, signor. Sono con della amici." She pointed towards her table. No, I'm with friends.

He looked at Gianluca and his rowdy bunch of friends. "Sembrano occupati con che cosa stanno facendo." They seem to be occupied with what they're doing.

"Le piacerebbe venire conoscere degli amici?"she offered.  Would you like to meet my friends?

He shook his head. Feeling a little disappointed by his refusal, she quickly finished her wine and stood up. "Devo andarmene. Mi aspettana."  I have to go now. My friends are waiting for me.

"Signorina, quando la rivedro?" he suddenly asked. When will I see you again?

Hermione's cheeks burned-- he wanted to see her again. "Si. Domani vediamo Il Ponte Rialto dopo le sei." Yes, tomorrow meet me at the Rialto Bridge after six.

She could feel his eyes on her and a smile crept over her lips as she walked away. It was amazing! This was not something she would normally do -- rush into a situation like this twenty seconds after saying hello. She giggled--Gianluca was right. The Carnevale was just beginning.

The next morning, Hermione woke up freezing from the cold and nearly jumped when her bare feet touched the icy floor tiles. Apparently, she had forgotten to turn up the heater in her drunken state. It was a miracle that she made it back to her apartment in one piece.

Gianluca had left her a note. They were supposed to attend an opera at the Teatro La Fenice. Bollocks! It was already noon and the show was supposed to start in an hours' time.

The freezing shower gave her the wake up call she needed. Pulling on a light blue costume of the goddess Athena and a wool cape, she rushed out to meet Gianluca at the theatre.

They were staging Verdi's Carmen. The theater was crowded with tourists and Italians alike. By the time they came out she was anxious to return to the Rialto. She noticed a familiar figure leaning against the wall opposite the theater.

The Moor! Was he at the opera too?

Before she could call him, the sirens rang loudly everywhere and people were yelling, "Aqua alta!"  High tide!

"Hermione, come quickly!" Luca shouted.

"But…" She turned to the Moor but he was gone. Reluctantly she followed Gianluca.

They made it back to the Rialto but Hermione's costume was ruined. It was her favorite color and now she had nothing appropriate to wear for her date. Standing on the balcony of her apartment, she could see the tides had come in and flood the streets. This can't be happening, Hermione thought in distress. She had to stay in her apartment until the tide subsided.

"Hermione, what is bothering you?"

She turned to Gianluca who was filling his pipe-- he had noticed her restlessness.

"I'm supposed to meet someone…and I can't go out," she complained.

"Someone you met in Venice?"

She pouted in mock annoyance. "Luca, I'm old enough to take care of myself."

"Of course you are. But your parents may not be too happy with your flirting with strangers," he said, shaking his shiny bald head.

"No, Luca. You are not going to tell them!" she was horrified.

Luca laughed. "Don't worry, Hermione. I won't tell them – promise me you'll be careful."

"Yes, Daddy," she said in jest. She was always amused when he went all paternal on her.

When it was safe to wander around again, she quickly donned her Elizabethan costume and rushed to the bridge hoping he might still be there. Hermione walked through the crowded bazaar and stood on top of the bridge resignedly. Maybe she was never meant to meet him.

Suddenly, she felt hands circling her waist and a smooth voice purred, "Signorina, spero che non abbiate attesso troppo lungo." I hope you didn't wait too long.

Hermione's heartbeat raced with excitement as she turned to him, their masked faces inches apart and breaths misting in the cold.

"Come lo avete conosciuto eravate me?" she asked. How did you know it was me?

"Non posso dimenticare una donna bella," he replied. I cannot forget a beautiful woman.

She thought he was going to kiss her and closed her eyes but he pulled away.

"Ho prenotato due biglietti per Il Ballo Carnevale. Le piacerebbe uscire con me?" he asked. I've reserved two tickets for the Carnevale Ball. Would you like to go out with me?

"Si, va bene." Yes, all right.

Hermione had never been to a masquerade ball before. He brought her on a gondola ride through the narrow canals towards the Doge's Palace. Fairy lights were strung criss-crossing the canals above them as winter mists rose up from the water to shroud the ancient buildings giving Venice a spectral air of ethereal timelessness.

Hermione dipped her fingers into the icy canal as the waters lapped insistently against wood and stone. She found the Moor silently observing her from his seat on the edge of the gondola and his mouth was curled in a smirk. He seemed pleased that she was enjoying herself.

When they arrived at the Doge's Palace, masked ushers in colorful attire met them. Hermione gasped at the plush interior of the ballroom -- the magnificent frescoes, chandeliers and tapestries surrounded the guests. Two chamber ensembles were playing minuets and waltzes as guests in resplendent costumes danced around the floor.

"Balliamo?" her date asked. Shall we dance?

"No grazie. Non so ballare," she quickly answered and gestured over to the tables. No, thanks. I'm not very good at dancing.  

She didn't want to embarrass her date with her inexperience. Dancing the minuet was not one of the things she thought she would be doing in Venice. Her date was kind enough to understand her pleas and led her to the sumptuous spread at the end of the ballroom. They had a quick bite and started to explore the place. They came to a long terrace with stone arches facing the Adriatic Sea. Pretty gondolas were bobbing up and down in the canal below them as moonlight reflected on the calm waters.

"Che bella stanotte?" she exclaimed and took a deep breath of the night air. Isn't it lovely tonight?

"Si. Tu sei bellissima signorina," he whispered and pulled her into his arms and started to move with the music. Yes, you are very beautiful.  He seemed insistent on dancing with her.

She cocked her head to one side and smiled.

"C'e qualcosa che non va?" he asked, surprised by her reaction. Something is wrong?

"No, niente. E proprio un bel posto," she said and rested her head on his chest, his warm body pressed against hers. No, nothing. It's really nice to be here.

The hours seemed to pass quickly and the night was almost over. He took her back to her apartment in a gondola. Hermione was unwilling to let this night end as she turned to him and said, "Grazie di tutto. Spero che ci reverdremo presto." Thanks for everything. I hope we meet again soon.

"Si, vorrei riverderti, Signorina Elizabeth," he replied and kissed her hand lightly.  Yes, I'd like to see you again, Miss Elizabeth.

Hermione almost laughed out loud when he called her "Elizabeth". He must have deduced it from the costume she wore!

"Mi chiamo Hermione," she told him. My name's Hermione.

Somehow he found her name funny as he chuckled. "Hermione? Come nel opera treatrale dello Shakespeare?" As in Shakespeare's play?

"Si, che bene. Dicami il vostro nome." Yes, that's right. Tell me you name.

"Il nome e Othello," he answered and gave a low bow. My name is Othello.

Under normal circumstances she would have berated him for making fun of her but he was dressed the part of the Moor. Sighing resignedly, she bade him good night and closed the door, the sweet promise to meet again gladdened her heart.

The next day, she visited the museums and art galleries of Venice with Gianluca. Thankfully she had on her goddess Athena costume that was lighter than her Elizabethan gown and less cumbersome. The day was quite warm. She was waiting for a vaporetto to the island of Murano when she spotted someone walking towards her. He was wearing a dark green coat, breeches and boots and a feathered hat. Her heart nearly missed a beat when he said, "Buon giorno Hermione." Good day.

She recognized the voice. They must really stop meeting like this, she mused. "Othello, come va ?" How are you?

"Bene, grazie. Ho pensato at te tutto til giono.  Dove va?" he replied in a suave tone. Fine, thank you. I've been thinking about you all day. Where are you going?

"Murano."

"Posso farle compagnia?" May I join you?

"Va bene." Okay.

They visited the glass factory and walked around the tiny island, enjoying each other's company. They talked about many things and discussed their holiday plans while sharing ice cream at the local gelateria. She was going to Rome while he to France after the Carnevale. He told her that there would be a grand celebration at San Marco Square tonight to mark the end of the Carnevale and he wanted to take her there to watch the floats and fireworks. She gladly accepted.

The evening was surreal as the Venetian crowd turned up in full force to watch the spectacular event. At midnight, the bells of Basilica San Marco rang and an effigy of

"Carnevale" was burned, marking the end of the festival and everyone went back in a somber mood. Hermione never felt so much excitement in span of a few days. She turned to 'Othello' standing beside her, wondering if he would finally reveal himself to her.

After the event they decided to take a slow stroll back to her place.

"E'stato molto divertente," she said in a pensive mood. It was a lot of fun. They stopped halfway to listen to the church bells ringing signifying the Christian Lent season.

"Hermione, chiuda i vostri occhi," he whispered as he drew her to him. Close your eyes.

"Othello, non voglio precipitare…," she began but was silenced by a warm and passionate kiss. I don't want to rush…

Tongues dueled and hands roamed with urgent need. Her knees almost gave way as she clung to him in desperation. A sigh escaped her lips, savoring the taste of forbidden emotions as he pulled away and began to lift her mask.

"Non ho aperto i vostri occhi ," he said, breathing hard. Don't open your eyes.

Hermione merely nodded and waited with bated breath. What was he going to do?

"You can open them now, Granger…"

Her eyes flew open with shock as she recognized that condescending tone anywhere. In front of her was none other than Draco Malfoy in the place of 'Othello', holding the Moor's mask in his hand.

"Malfoy!"

Hermione back-pedaled until she slammed into the wall, wide-eyed and hand covering her mouth in horror. She had kissed Ferret Boy! How did this happen? Could the caring and romantic stranger she had met a few days back be Malfoy? Where were the snide remarks and cruel name-calling?

"You! How dare you! You tricked me!" she screeched in fury.

"Didn't want to burst your fantasy bubble…," he countered, grinning viciously. "Besides, it was you who came on to me the first time, remember?"

All her illusions of romance crashed and burned brightly in front of her as she braced against the cold wall for support and fought a wave of nausea. If Malfoy gloats to everyone about their lusty encounter…her life would be ruined, her reputation sullied. Harry and Ron would never speak to her again.

Draco stepped closer to her. "You should be honored that I deigned to kiss you, mudblood. Besides, purebloods have been known to have muggle lovers before…"

"Get away from me!" she hissed and pushed him away, angered by his insinuations as his cynical laughter rang in her ears.

She was too distraught to realize she had wandered into a secluded part of Venice. The silence was unnerving until she noticed a group of people dressed in purple robes and long cloths covering their heads, chanting prayers and dispersing pungent frankincense into the air. It was a very severe and somber procession, a contrast to the color and festivities of the Carnevale. They seem to be heading towards a church.

The evening was getting very late and her feet were aching from all the walking. She decided to return to her apartment, pack her things and leave at first light. Venice was not big enough for the both of them. As she turned the corner she saw a few men outside her apartment. She could see their faces clearly under the street lamp-- it was Crabbe, Goyle and Avery.

I should've known they would be in the vicinity, she thought hatefully. It was obvious she was outnumbered and her wand was not by her side. Worry turned to panic as she glanced around and realized there was no one else. Where is everybody?

If I could slip into one of the alleys...too late, they've seen me.

They began to walk towards her as Hermione frantically thought of an escape route. She would not be able to outrun them but if she could pull a bluff...

"Hello Granger. Surprised to see us?" Crabbe spoke while the others snickered.

"Did Malfoy send you? Too coward to do his own dirty work?" she spat out.

"No, you're wrong. We thought we'd surprise him," Goyle said as he made a grab for her but she sprung back in self-defense.

"Come any closer and I'll hex you!" she threatened as she stared defiantly at them.

Her bluff seemed to have worked as they fell back hesitantly. They may be dim-witted but it won't be long before they realize she was wandless. She wasn't planning on staying to find out as she sprinted off towards a darkened alley, hoping to lose them in the maze of streets.

Her sandals were making too much noise until she was forced to take them off. Her toes were freezing as she ran barefooted on wet ground. Sanctuary, she thought. They would not dare enter holy ground. There had to be a church that was open at this hour.

Hermione came across an old building with a huge cross and towering steeples. She knocked the door and shouted in desperation, "Aiuto! let me in!" Help!

Long shadows whisked past the building as the marble statues stood pale, watching and intimidating. No one seemed to answer her. Hermione sensed they were close and started running again. She had to get into a church. Tired and out of breath, she sank against a brick wall in a deserted street. She didn't hear any more footsteps tailing her. Suddenly her pursuers appeared on broomsticks above her, their faces twisted with rage at being tricked.

The last thing she heard was one of them shouted, "Crucio!"

Immediately, Hermione felt inconceivable pain as she doubled over and everything went black.

She woke up in a darkened room filled with antique furniture and heavy tapestries--vaguely remembering what had happened. In the far corner of the room was a tall fair-haired man in dark robes – he was looking out the window, his expression troubled. Hermione drew a sharp breath as she tried to sit up but her head was spinning and her limbs refused to move. Pain shot through her body like a bolt of lightning as disturbing memories flashed in front of her eyes.  What happened to me?

"You're awake," the man said as he walked towards the bed.

"Don't touch me!" she croaked weakly in fear when she recognized Draco Malfoy. Her throat was parched, lips cracked and dry.

He stood at the foot of the bed and folded his arms. "You're safe here, Granger."

"Why have you brought me here? Where is this place?" she demanded in an exasperated tone, tears stinging her eyes.

"Malfoy Villa. Actually, I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," he said with a crooked smile. "You were attacked."

"What are you saying? I can't remember anything." She couldn't believe that he didn't plan the whole thing. "Let me go."

"Granger, you wouldn't want to be out there right now," he said with a cryptic tone. "You're in no condition to move."

Hermione swallowed hard as she declared, "So, I'm now your prisoner."

She was puzzled by the reason he kept her alive and the motives Malfoy would want to save her…unless it was for his own benefit. She quickly glanced down at her body and realized to her absolute horror that she was not wearing her blue dress anymore. A black shirt barely covered her hips, exposing her long legs and bandages crudely covered her bruises. He couldn't have, he wouldn't…she thought in despair but the shirt could only belong to him.

"Where are my clothes?" she demanded angrily.

"You have no use of them now. I had to treat your wounds."

She let out a strangled sob as the thought of Draco touching her filled her with dread.

As if he had read her mind, he told her, "Don't worry. Your virtue is still intact."

What!

Hermione blushed furiously. How could he have known? He must have looked…

"You must rest now. I will bring soup for you when you are well enough to eat," he said and left the room.

Malfoy must have cast a sleep spell on her as she slowly succumbed to a dreamless slumber. She didn't know how long she had slept. Snuggling into the soft pillows, Hermione felt very comfortable. It reminded her of the feeling she had whenever Harry was around. Harry! Immediately, her eyes shot open and stared at the intricate ceiling of green and gold.

Then a small groan came from a mess of blond hair that peeked from under the covers next to her. Hermione screamed and tried to get away from Malfoy, instead she fell unceremoniously onto the cold floor, dragging the covers with her. Owww!

"What the hell!" Malfoy sat up and cursed loudly. He found Hermione in a heap of limbs and covers and began to laugh.

"What are you doing in my bed?" she asked furiously. She wanted to know why he was sleeping beside her and he was sleeping naked. Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth dropped -- it was the first time she had seen a naked man and it had to be Draco Malfoy, a very buff Draco Malfoy.

"Correction, Granger. This is MY bed and I refuse to sleep anywhere else," he answered haughtily. When he caught on, he smirked. "Like what you see Granger?"

"Ugh!"

She quickly averted her gaze with disgust as Draco shifted to put on his robe. He walked over to her side and said, "Time to wash up."

Without waiting for her reply, he lifted her from the floor and walked to the bathroom. Pressed against his bare chest, his musky cologne assaulted her senses as she clung to his robe. They entered the brass-gilded bathroom. He set her down on the edge of the bathtub and turned on the taps.

"Wait, what are you doing?" she asked as he dropped some witch hazel oil and rose hips into the bath tub. Apparently, Draco knew of their antiseptic qualities.

"You need fresh bandages," he simply said. "Take off your shirt."

"No, I mean yes. I …I can do this by myself," she stammered, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

But he had this incredulous look on his pointed face. "I would like to see you try…"

"Malfoy, get out!"

When he was gone, Hermione carefully unbuttoned her shirt and stood up stiffly to inspect the bandages. She gasped when she saw her own reflection in the long bathroom mirror. Her face was bumped and purple. Some of the bandages on her body had bloodstains and medicinal herbs in them. She managed to remove most of her bandages and taking a soaked terry cloth, she cleaned her wounds. There was one particular deep gash across her back, from her shoulder to her hip. Removing the bandage was nearly impossible, let alone clean it. Tears welled in her eyes as she reached painfully for it.

"Let me…" a voice whispered from behind her as gentle hands peeled the bandage covering her back. She stared horrified as Malfoy's reflection appeared next to hers in the mirror.

"No!"

"Don't be an ass, Granger. By the way, I've seen lots of naked women before and you're no different," he said flatly.

What did he mean by that?

Somehow, she felt it wasn't a compliment coming from him. She sucked in her breath sharply as part of the bandage stuck to her wet wound. Then taking the cloth from her, Draco dabbed her back with it. The water turned a shade of crimson as he rinsed the cloth.

"I'm not familiar with healing spells. I have my wand with me. If you tell me what to say, I may be able to accelerate the healing process," he said.

"I know a few," Hermione answered and with her instructions, he managed to alleviate her pain. Draco must have noticed she was feeling uncomfortable without any clothes on as he kept his eyes glued to her back. After he had finished with the healing spells, he helped her put on her clothes.

"What do you want from me?" she had to know what he was up to.

"Nothing – for now," he said dully. "I don't intend my family to find out that a mudblood is staying in Malfoy Villa."

He had a point there.

"Thank you, Draco," she said quietly. His name felt strange on her tongue and he looked up at her in surprise too. "I…I thought that since we were going to be here for a while…I thought it was only proper that…"

"You can call me Draco… but none of this leaves the room. Understood?"

She nodded her head and yawned. The morning's debacle had drained her strength but she needed to get certain things straight. "What about our…our sleeping arrangements?"

"What about our sleeping arrangements?" he echoed with a mischievous grin

"You can't expect me to share the bed with you!" she exclaimed.

"You're welcome to sleep on the floor if you like but I'm not giving up my bed for a mudblood," he argued. Hermione realized he was making life very difficult for her.

"But…but you sleep without…without…" Her face wrinkled with revulsion.

"That's the way I sleep. Don't worry, I won't rape you," he told her bluntly.

She pondered her options – the floor looked very hard and cold and the bed was big enough for the both of them. Reluctantly, she acquiesced to their sleeping arrangements. "…as long as we have an agreement."

As the days went by, Hermione observed Draco – it became clear that he didn't intend to harm her. He never allowed her to wander out of the bedroom and had cast a locking spell whenever he was out, insisting that it was for her safety. In exchange, he indulged her requests for books to read and allowed her to owl her parents that she was all right.  He had an amazing collection of magical books in his possession – books that kept her occupied for long periods of time.  She was particularly fascinated by the history of his family – it was written in one of the books that his ancestors came from the ancient and mystical Avalon.

"I've always thought myself as a descendent of Merlin himself," he declared proudly.

"What?"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Son of Merlin – NOT!"

"At least I have IMPORTANT ancestors," he replied haughtily.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to belittle your ancestry but all this is so well documented.  Did you know you have relatives in Russia?" Her fingers lightly traced the family tree. "I believe it says here that his name was…Rasputin."

"Let me see that!" He made a grab for the book at which she quickly hid it behind her back.

"Hey! Wait your turn."

"FINE." Draco huffed and stormed out of the room.

Really, he has no sense of humor at all!

Despite their differences, they began to form a closeness that surprised even her. Draco started having his meals with her and even managed to carry on polite conversations without ending in a shouting match. He was probably lonely in this big house, she thought.

From the bedroom window, she could see it was always snowing heavily outside. She guessed she was somewhere on the Appenines or the Swiss Alps. She wanted to run in the snow, make snowmen, feel snowflakes on the tip of her tongue…

I am a bird in a gilded cage…a prisoner in this house. I can't wait to leave this place.

One evening, while they were having dinner, she said, "Draco…I need a more appropriate attire. This seems hardly decent."

His eyebrow cocked up with mock amusement as his eyes ran up and down her body. "Personally, I prefer you in my shirt. I'll see if I can find some of mother's dresses somewhere."

Later, he brought some of his mother's old clothes to her – dresses made from heavy velvet, lace, silk and fur. Hermione stared at them and said, "I…I can't wear these. I'll only ruin them."

Narcissa Malfoy certainly had expensive tastes in muggle clothes.

Draco waved his hand and dismissed the thought. "I doubt she will wear them again. Go ahead, put them on."

When she appeared in one of Narcissa's dresses, Draco cocked his head to one side and rubbed his chin. Then, he chuckled as if tickled by her appearance. "The color's off and the material just isn't you."

For once, she readily agreed with him. She couldn't tell where the strings ended and the straps began.

"Are you properly clothed?  It'll be cold outside," he said, putting on his gloves.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears.  "You mean…you're letting me outside?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. Are you coming or not?"

He tapped his foot impatiently. Hermione hesitated for a moment before grabbing a fur coat and followed him.  The cold wind hit her the moment she stepped out ankle-deep in the snow. She stood in awe at the sight of the mountains, looming high above her in their magnificent splendor -- the scenery out here was definitely much better.

Draco had disappeared down the path as she struggled to catch up with his long strides. She followed his footprints as it disappeared into the pine forest.  She called after him but there was no answer – the silence was overwhelming, as she stood alone in the snow, waiting for him to appear.

Suddenly, a voice whispered her name. "Hermione."

Recognizing his voice, she turned around and saw Draco standing behind her.  "You startled me. Where were you?" she asked but the question was ignored.

"You should have escaped when you had the chance," he said darkly.

Hermione was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I see it in your eyes, your mannerisms…you long to be back with your family, your friends…I brought you out here so you can escape!"

"What is this? A test?" she demanded angrily. "Yes, I want to go home but I don't have to run away from you."

"You should be afraid of me…of what I am to become," he warned.

It cannot be.  He doesn't have the Death Mark!

Hermione was horrified as she took a hesitant step back. "Are…are you a supporter of Voldemort?"

"No, but my father was one," he replied.  

Relief washed over her mixed with anger and pain.  She had seen too lives wasted in support of Lord Voldemort. 

"I'm glad you're not one of them," she muttered.

"Do you honestly believe we could be friends?" he asked, sounding hopeful.

Was he serious about a friendship with her, a mudblood?  Well, he hasn't been using that derogatory word on her for some time now.  Perhaps there was hope yet.

"Yes, I do," said Hermione with determination.  A tiny smile escaped his lips as he nodded and started back to the house.

Suddenly, she felt a sudden urge to hurl a snowball at him.

Thud!

A wad of snow struck him in the head. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, his mouth gaping in shock as the snow slid down his wet face and trickled down his collar.  Startled by her accurate aim, her hands flew to her mouth to muffle the glee in her voice.

He glared at her dangerously. "How dare you Granger!" 

"That was for being a snobbish prick!" She tried to keep the laughter from her voice.

Bending down and scooping some snow in his hands, he advanced towards her. "This means war."

Hermione started and shook her head, backing away.  He wouldn't dare!

She yelped and tried to scamper away but Narcissa's voluminous skirts made it impossible. Mercilessly, Draco pounced on top of her and tried to stuff snow into her dress.  Hermione retaliated by smashing snow on his face. 

"Stop! I quit!" she admitted in between laughs. 

For a moment, they stopped as their eyes met, panting heavily and breaths misted in the cold air.  Draco wore a silly grin on his face as he stared at her.  She noticed how his hair and eyebrows were peppered with snow and his eyes -- she had never seen the colors dance in his eyes before. 

"Does this mean we're friends?" he said first, his mask of aloofness returned as he stood up.

"Friends."  Hermione nodded sheepishly.  The melted snow was soaking into their clothes as they got up hastily and returned to the villa.

The day's snow fight had worn out Hermione as she yawned. So far, they had respected each other's side of the bed.  Draco held true to his word and didn't touch her, probably because she had been injured and not looking very attractive. Harry and Ron would never believe her if she told them she was sleeping with the enemy. He was even getting better at healing spells. However, their daily 'bathroom routine' of changing bandages began to trouble her, as Draco's touch seemed to invoke strange emotions. The tingling sensations were certainly not from the cold water. She found herself wanting him to touch her – it had felt so good.

Hermione needed to sort out her warring feelings for Draco Malfoy. She knew he was no paragon of virtue and could have any woman he wanted. Why would he want to take care of her? Nothing good could come from a Malfoy. He still had an air of arrogance as if the world owed him. It was precisely the arrogance and cruelty that made her hate him. Had she forgotten what he was?

She was curled up on the sofa with a book when he came in one evening – his expression stormy and his eyes wild. There was a strong whiff of liquor and tobacco as he walked past her and warmed himself by the fireplace. Something must have happened.

"Draco, is something wrong?" she asked carefully as she stood next to him.

"It's none of your business Granger," he snapped but later softened in afterthought. "My father had a hearing today at the Ministry of Magic today. My mother was there. She said they disallowed my father's appeal again."

He was seething with anger as he smashed his fist against the mantelpiece. Hermione jumped and the book she was holding fell from her hand. She knew his father Lucius was a prisoner in Azkaban. He was guilty for supporting the dark lord and using unforgivable curses. She was not sure of Draco's feelings for his father. He was a Malfoy after all.

She sensed anger and deep pain in his gray eyes as he turned to her and said, "Ever since my father was arrested, we have been watched closely by the Ministry. We, Malfoys have been condemned and forsaken except when they needed 'extra' funds from our coffers. My father had been generous with his contributions to the Ministry and there I saw him stand against the accusations flung at him by the very same people he supported. They expected my father to grovel and plead his innocence."

"Your father tried to kill Harry," she reasoned.

"Scarhead should have died with his mother and this thing would never have happened," he said coldly.

"Don't you dare say that about Harry!" she shouted, her patience thinning. This boy had the nerve to accuse Harry for his father's wretched fate.

"I damn well say what I want, Granger!" he shouted back as he stalked towards her, backing her against the wall. "Why are you so protective of Scarhead? Is he your lover?

What sordid trysts went on behind the 'better-than-thou' Gryffindor dorms? Does he kiss you like this?!"

She wanted to deny his baseless allegations but Draco's mouth slammed unto hers brutally, his body pinned her against the wall and hands began to grope at her. Hermione tried to push him away but he was too strong. His hands had slipped under her dress and fingers stroked her thighs.

"Please…" she whispered, begging as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn't want her first time to be like this – deflowered against her will. He must have heard her sobs as he pushed her away, his breath ragged and arousal straining against the fabric of his pants.

"Don't worry. I won't be back tonight," he said and stepped out without looking back.

She was too shaken to react and when he had left, she sank to the floor in tears.

Crawling under the covers of the bed, she turned towards the cold and empty space next to her. She didn't know he was attracted her and it was distressing. There were times, she had caught him sneaking glances at her. At first, she thought it was only her imagination but Draco was jealous of Harry, not because Harry was the Boy Who Lived but because he thought they were together. Stifling a sob, she turned back to her side of the bed and tried to sleep.

After a restless night, she found that he still had not returned and became concerned.

Hermione decided to see what lay beyond the bedroom door and reached for the knob. She winced, half-expecting to feel an electric jolt to her fingers but it felt oddly cold. Did Draco lie to prevent her from leaving the room?

The door clicked open and she peeped out into the quiet hallway -- the walls had a row of antique lamps and the floor was carpeted. There were a few doors on either side of the hallway, presumably rooms and a spiral staircase that led to the lower part of the house. Curiosity prompted her to step out and wander on her own. She was careful not to touch anything as they could contain some curse. Hermione crept down the marble stairs and came to a large hall with tall glass windows overlooking mountains shrouded in snow and mist. The interior was a riot of Moorish and Gothic confection, elaborately lit with crystal chandeliers.

Tiny footsteps alerted her that someone was coming. To her relief, it was only a house-elf.

"Missy, what are you doing out here?" the elf said with a trembling voice. "Master will be very angry if Master sees you here."

She smiled at the elf and asked, "Hello. What is your name?"

"Me name's Figaro," he replied and bowed. "Missy should return to Master's room immediately. Master will be back soon."

"I will but this is such a nice house. It's such a waste to be sitting in the room all day," she said with a wink. "Can you show me around the house?"

Figaro was getting upset as he stammered, "Missy not allowed around the house. Master said so."

"Well, he isn't here. Is he?"

"Yess…" he answered nervously, unsure of himself.

"What's behind that door over there?" she said and walked towards it, drawn to the iron rungs and rusty bolts. Figaro quickly blocked her path.

"Missy cannot go down there. Dungeons…very dangerous."

Dungeons? Why would a place like this need dungeons?

Suddenly, the nightmares she had been having started to make sense. She saw the bloody dungeons and the faceless figures stabbing at her. Hermione stared blankly as the front door burst open and Draco stormed in. He walked straight to her and grabbed her hand.

"What are you doing out of your room?" he roared.

"The…the door was unlocked…I was worried about you," she spluttered, wincing in pain.

He pulled her closer, eyes blazing furiously. "I don't need your worry or pity Granger. My father still has many friends who are loyal to Lord Voldemort.  If they saw you, you would be dead by now."

Draco forcefully dragged her up the stairs and back to their room. He flung her unto the bed and slammed the door behind him. "Your overbearing curiosity will kill you one day," he told her.

"This place…the dungeons. I was tortured in this house," she said, hoping for an explanation but none came.

"You shouldn't have left the room," he replied harshly.

"Why can't I remember what happened?  Have you put a memory spell on me so that I would forget?  Why protect me? I'm one of them…the ones you hated!" she demanded. In a fit of anger, she said, "I was wrong about you. You're just like your father!"

He glared at her and said, "Your stay has been long overdue, Granger--you will leave here tonight."

"I can't wait," she said quietly. Nothing you say would make me stay.

When she returned to London, things would be different. She would continue her Auror training and teach at Hogwarts while Draco…she would never want to see him again.

As evening came, she was escorted to her transport -- a white carriage pulled by two black horses with wings. It was still snowing outside and she shivered as the chilly winds blew. The horses were getting restless and the weather had turned for the worse--a blizzard was looming from afar. Hermione caught Draco's reflection by the window as she glanced back at the huge villa. With one mighty thrust, the carriage took to the air taking her away from the villa, away from Draco Malfoy.