A/N: This is the Alternate Part II to my story "It's Witchcraft", however, it is a story in its own right with the assumption that they fell in love at Hogwarts (and no one knew). Oh, and I didn't create them I just make them fall in love. Enjoy!

Reunited

Draco stared at the mangy heap on his dungeon floor and desperately tried to squelch his shock. Obviously Crabbe and Goyle had no idea that the half-dead woman they'd just given to him was someone they knew…someone they'd spent most of their school days taunting and insulting. He, one the other hand, recognized her despite her haggard and half-dead appearance.

"She's not much, but she's yours if you want her," Crabbe continued with a stupid smile. He had enough servants of his own and he thought it was just awful that Draco didn't have even one. He had a huge lake house to himself but no servants to keep him happy.

But Draco had never taken a fancy to hunting down renegade witches and wizards. Unlike his other Death Eater friends, he didn't have any sick fantasies or perversion that no one else would do willingly. He wasn't gay but married like Zabini, or just unable to get women like Crabbe and Goyle, and he didn't get sick pleasure out of making magical people do remedial tasks without magic. The only woman he ever dreamed about was a pile of skin and bones in front of him. "Sure, I'll take her," Draco agreed impassively.

"Here's her wand," Goyle held out the finely carved wand to him. "You know, good for tormenting or something."

Draco nodded as if he thought it was a great idea. He promptly walked out of the dim dungeon and led his old friends to the front door. "Thanks, guys," he said, nearly pushing them out the door. His breath didn't even out until they had disappeared. It wasn't the first time he was glad that they were so stupid.

Sprinting back down to the ancient dungeon, he burst through the doors and pointed at the chains on the wall. He quickly knelt to catch the crumpling body as the cuffs opened. "Oh, Hermione," he whispered into her ratty hair.

He picked her up; she couldn't weigh more than ninety pounds. Her unconscious head rested on his shoulder and he was greatly relieved to hear her shallow but even breath. She smelt awful; she probably hadn't seen the inside of a proper bathroom for five years.

When he reached the upper most level of his house, he kicked open the door to the large, open room. This room had served as servant's quarters when his great grandparents had used the house as a summer home and brought along their employees as well. These days, he supposed servant's quarters looked quite different.

He didn't plan on this actually being Hermione's room; he just didn't want to get the real one dirty. Besides, she'd have to clean it when she came to anyway.

* * * *

Draco sat by the bed and stared at the mangy creature that was still out cold. He reached out and gently caressed her pale cheek. She looked like death warmed over. He been sitting there for hours, just watching her, hoping she would wake up soon. Besides, the sooner she woke up the sooner she could bath. She desperately needed to do that.

A naughty thought popped into his head. He knew she wasn't going to wake for a while, and she smelt awful. He held his breath as he lifted her into his arms. She was light, too light. He decided to carry her to his own bathroom; with his huge tub, he could actually wash her.

Gently sitting her on one of the seats, he began to pull the dirty remnants of cloths from her body. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if she woke up and saw what he was doing. She'd kill him with her bare hands.

But Draco found that he felt nothing sexual in what he was doing. The strongest emotion he felt was guilt. Every aspect of her body screamed starvation and he could see every one of her ribs as her skin stretched tightly over them. He felt guilty because he knew that it was people like him who had made her this way.

Taking great care to make sure she didn't slip under the water, he washed the dirt and odor from her unconscious body. When he laid her on his shoulder, in order to wash her back, the sight that met his eyes made his heart fall to his stomach. Countless long, red welts crossed her back. They had scared over, but they somehow still looked painful.

Draco quickly finished his ministrations and laid her naked form on a towel on the floor. He'd never really realized how difficult it was to wash, dry and dress some one who was unconscious, but he got it done. When he carried her back to the attic room and put her back onto the bed, he sat in his chair and watched her as he had been; he had nothing else to do. He decided then that he would never tell her what he'd just done for two reasons. The first was that she'd try to decapitate him and the second was simply because it was a nice thing to do, and nice was never supposed to be used to describe a Death Eater.

He didn't know how long he sat there before he drifted off to sleep but the next time he opened his eyes she was staring at him. He nearly fell out of his chair. "Hermione," he breathed and flew to the edge of the bed. "I thought you were dead."

She didn't say a word. Her face showed no emotion and when he reached out to touch her cheek, she quickly turned away. But what broke his heart the most were her eyes. The warm brown eyes that had once burned with love and passion for him were now cold, emotionless…dead. Even when she looked back to him there was no anger or fear, just cold, expressionless eyes.

He curled his hands into fists to keep from touching her again. In all the time he'd been sitting there he hadn't actually thought about how she would react to him. He would have understood anger and fear, but the nothingness he saw in her once expressive orbs was heartbreaking.

Suddenly, he was gripped by an earth-shattering fear that she had been robbed of her soul.

A/N: Tell me what you think! If you really want something to happen, I have been known to adhere to suggestions!