Hermione woke up to a soft humming somewhere near her head.  She nearly jumped when two, large green eyes greeted her.  It was a house elf dressed in a pretty, pale blue frock.

"Mornin' miss.  Would you like some breakfast?" the elf asked.

"Uhm...I'm not sure...where am I?" she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.  She felt sore everywhere.  What happened to her anyway?

"You is in the most beautiful room in the East wing," the elf beamed.

That wasn't very helpful, but she didn't want to upset the poor girl so she just smiled back and glanced around, hoping to find clues regarding her whereabouts.

And indeed, the room was beautiful, stunning even.  The walls were covered in cream and gold wallpaper while the floor was done in subdued bronze carpeting.  It was so thick she knew her toes would get lost in it if she walked barefoot. The bed on which she now lay could easily accommodate five people. It had an ornate gold and bronze velvet canopy and intricately etched wooden posts.  The beddings were also done in cream and gold, with fragrant, flouncy pillows. Gold and crystal lamps stood proudly on top of the two matching side tables, while a couch and two armchairs were gathered around a glass-topped, bronze coffee table at the far corner near the door.

A room fit for a queen, she thought.  How on earth did she end up here? She remembered leaving the Ministry, being approached by a hooded, old man...and the rose!  He gave her a beautiful, pale pink rose...and then she was standing in front of a huge, black gate.  Is this the house beyond the gate? Who brought her here - to this room?

When she looked around the elf was putting a large tray laden with food on the coffee table.  She could hear the well-dressed elf humming as she carefully laid out teacups and small plates on the side.  A charming porcelain teapot followed to complete the set.

Well-dressed? Aren't house elves set free when presented with clothes? Why is she here, then? Is she getting paid to work for this family?

"Breakfast ready, Miss. Call Fifi when you is finished," she said, bowing low before disapparating with a loud pop.

"Wait, I want..." Hermione called after the elf, but it was too late.  She was already gone.

Sighing, Hermione tossed aside the warm comforter and slid out of bed.  It was only then that she realized that she was wearing an exquisite, emerald green nightgown.
What? Where are my clothes? And who changed me into this?

As if the room could read her thoughts, Fifi reappeared with another loud pop.

"Miss, Fifi forgot to tell you that you's clothes is in the dressing room," Fifi said, hopping with a big smile on her face to a door that Hermione hadn't noticed.  The elf turned the golden knob and pushed the door open.  Hermione gasped as she gaped at the biggest and most luxurious bathroom she had ever seen.  It looked like what one usually saw in those expensive Muggle Interior Design magazines that featured the homes of royalty and famous celebrities. A bronze bathtub sat flushed against one wall opposite a shower enclosed in frosted glass. The walls and floor were of a soft cream marble. A stand-alone porcelain basin stood under a stained-glass window. To the left was another door.  Fifi pushed it open to reveal a cozy, but well-appointed boudoir. And folded on a brocade-covered settee were her clothes, minus her wand and bag.

Hermione turned to question the elf about it, but she had already left. Again.
Why does she always do that?

Deciding that she would not get any answers from the elf, Hermione heaved the nightgown off, slipped into the stall and took a quick shower.  She had to admit that she had never felt as refreshed as she did right after that.  While dressing, she deliberated on her situation.  Where exactly was she and who were her solicitous hosts?  Clearly, this was a family homestead and not a bachelor pad, so there would probably be more than one occupant. She finished her toilette by taming her curls (or at least she tried to) with the bejeweled brush she found on the dainty Victorian table.

She had actually planned on leaving the room straightaway but the delicious aroma of fresh crumpets called to her.  Grunting, Hermione indulged her growling stomach and swiftly gobbled up two.  She downed her tea in one gulp (it wasn't that hot anymore) and rushed out of the room before she could succumb to the temptation of bacon and blueberry scones.

The hallway was just as elegantly decorated as the room she had left.  Magnificent tapestries graced the dark mahogany walls every few feet.  The gleaming brass sconces told her that this was a well maintained home.  There were several doors along the way, but she bypassed them all.  She needed to find her hosts so she could thank them and leave.  She wouldn't have disapparated even if she had her wand; that would have been rude. Besides, houses like this one tended to be protected by powerful wards and even attempting to break through them could be dangerous.
Unfortunately, she was also now officially lost.  She could not even return to the room she was earlier in even if she tried.  She didn't want to summon Fifi, but if she wanted to get out of this labyrinth then she would have to enlist the help of the cheerful elf.

"Fifi?" she whispered, not sure if the house elf would hear her. 

"Yes, Miss?"

Hermione squealed when the smiling elf popped right in front of her.

"Oh! Fifi is sorry for frightening lovely Miss," the elf said, hanging her head in shame.

"No! No! You didn't frighten me, Fifi.  I was just surprised that you came so swiftly," Hermione said, leaning forward to tap the elf on the shoulder.

"Fifi will always answer Miss. Master told Fifi to answer Miss when she calls," Fifi nodded, her ears flapping around her beaming face. "What can Fifi do for lovely Miss?"

"Uhm...I'd like to meet my hosts.  I have to go home and I'd like to thank them before I leave. Can you take me to them?"

"Surely, Miss.  Just take my hand," Fifi extended a gnarled hand to Hermione.

"Oh!  Can't we just walk? I rather enjoy looking at the tapestries," she said, smiling guiltily at the young elf.  It was a white lie, but Hermione never quite liked the feeling of side-along apparition.

Fifi nodded and turned around.  "This way, Miss.  Young Master is in the gardens."
Hermione sighed in relief.  At last, she would get some answers.

After traversing a couple of long corridors and two flights of stairs, they finally reached a set of French doors that opened into the loveliest garden Hermione had ever seen.  How could a garden be in full bloom during winter? Tilting her head up, she saw the tell-tale sign of magic protecting it, detected only by those who knew what to look for.  Even so, the garden was still amazing.

There were tall birches and luscious elms lining the perimeter and luxurious, multi-colored flora that she could not even identify dotted the grounds.  But what really caught her attention was the gorgeous fountain at the center which was surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of red and white roses.  It was like a scene from a fairy tale.

And there, strolling around the cobbled walkway leading to a gazebo was a hunched, hooded figure cloaked in black.  Even hunched like that, Hermione could tell that he was a tall man.

Was he one of her hosts?

Before Hermione could ask Fifi, the elf was running down the stone steps, toward the one Hermione assumed to be her master.  The hooded figure stopped in front of Fifi and leaned on a cane, attentively listening to the elf.  The hooded head turned in her direction and although she couldn't see his eyes, Hermione felt the intensity of his gaze.  Her stomach clenched when she saw Fifi and her master walking toward her.

Why did she suddenly feel so nervous?

The man had a pronounced limp and half his face was covered by his hood.  Yet there was something familiar about him...something she could not place.

The unlikely pair stopped at the foot of the stairs, both of them looking up at her. She swallowed her feeling of dread and slowly walked down the steps.  When she reached the bottom, the man, who really was as tall as she had assumed, gave her a small bow. Then, he straightened to his full height and stood ramrod straight before her, his gloved hands resting casually on the silver head of his gleaming ebony cane. Most of his face was covered by a plain white mask; only his lips and chin were visible. Still, she sensed the animosity in the slate gray eyes that were staring back at her.

Those eyes! Why do I feel like I've seen them before?

"Welcome to my humble abode, my lady," he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
She knew that voice! It was deeper than she remembered, nevertheless...

"MALFOY?"

"Granger," he replied through gritted teeth.

Hermione felt the bile rising to her throat. This couldn't be happening! What was she doing here?  Did he kidnap her? But why would he do that? The war's been over for years! And what's with the Phantom of the Opera get-up? Is this some sort of sick joke?

"What is this, Malfoy? What am I doing here?" she whispered furiously, hands clenching at her sides as she tried to control her growing temper.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking that question, Granger? You're the one who came stumbling into my estate, after all.  And in the middle of a blizzard, too," he replied.
Hermione could only imagine him raising his brows at her.  The thought annoyed her. "If I had come here voluntarily, I wouldn't be asking you that question now, would I?" she spat.

"And if I had taken you here voluntarily, I wouldn't be asking the same, would I?" he retorted.

She didn't like it, but he did have a point.  Well, that could easily be remedied.  She could postpone her exploration of the reasons why she ended up here just to be rid of his company.

"All right, just give me back my things and I will leave right this very minute."

"Oh, no. It doesn't work that way, Princess. First, you have to tell me how you overcame my wards, then perhaps I'd let you leave," he said, fixing her with a stony glare.

"What? I don't even remember coming here!" she nearly screamed.  Has he lost his marbles? How could she even dream of breaking through his wards when she didn't even know where she was?

"Well, then.  I'm not giving back your things," he said.

"Fine. Keep them. But you can't make me stay," she said, stomping back up the stairs.  
She had half expected a hex thrown at her, but not laughter.  She swiftly turned on her heels, prepared to do battle when she slammed into his broad chest.  Gloved hands gripped her arms to steady her wobbling form.  Once she was stable enough, Hermione viciously pulled away from him and ran for the door.  No one tried to stop her; the elves doing their chores in the foyer only gawked at her but said nothing.  She heard Malfoy's lumbering steps behind her, each one echoing ominously in the hall.  She didn't stop to look back, running faster until she reached the large double-doors.

"Granger, wait! You can't break through the wards!" she heard him say.

Steeling herself, she gripped the oversized brass knobs and flung both panels open.  The sudden rush of cold wind nearly blasted her back through the doors, but she recovered quickly.  Hunching her shoulders, Hermione braved the swirling, white madness and ran towards the massive wrought iron gates.  She barely heard Malfoy bellow what seemed to be a warning when she was thrown back by an unseen force as soon as her fingers touched the gate.

The last thing she saw before everything went black were Malfoy's gray eyes staring down at her, his head shaking as he said, "I did warn you, Granger."

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