Draco didn't know what the hell he was doing in Diagon Alley. After the newspaper's heading, it was probably the worst place to be. He was exposed to everyone, but he was so shook up with his emotions all over the place, he rightly didn't care. Everyone around knew Rita Skeeter was a drama creator, and he had bigger things to worry about then gossip and lies. He had to worry about Hermione and his plan. Just to encourage himself, he glances down at his arm, before lifting his sleeve slightly, exposing the mark. "It's who I am," he whispers, as he walks through the crowd of people. He needed to get some fresh air, for it helped him think.

However, because he wasn't paying attention, he happened to run into someone. "Watch where you're going!" He barks, before adjusting his shirt, only to be pulled down an alley and pushed into the side of a building by the person he ran into.

"What'd you do to her?!" Harry Potter shouts, leaving Draco speechless for a moment. Potter was the last person Draco expected to see let alone run into. "Tell me!" He shouts once again, before grabbing Malfoy by the collar.

"What are you talking about?" Draco sneers, before pushing Harry off of him.

"Bastard, you know exactly what I'm talking about! What did you do to Ginny?"

Draco had never seen Harry so furious, and it was rather intimidating. However, he tried his best to pretend it didn't bother him, and shrugged off the question.

"I didn't do anything to Weaslette," Draco scoffs. "As if she's worth my time."

"Why can't she remember today, then? Or more importantly, why can't she remember Hermione?" Harry's breathing was irradical, and Draco found himself looking for words.

"Why the bloody hell are you asking me?" Draco growls, his grey eyes wild under the dim lighting.

"You were asking around for Hermione," Harry begins, as he pulls a copy of the Daily Prophet out of his jacket. "And now, Hermione's gone, Ginny can't remember anything, and you're asking me why I'm asking you? Unbelievable." Harry wanted nothing more, than to deck Draco in the jaw, but he refrained from it.

"You don't want to know," Draco replies softly, a plan forming into his head, all the while thinking about how lovely the day will be when Potter dies by Malfoy's own hands.

"Tell me, now," Harry growls.

"Alright," Draco begins, trying his best to look innocent. "You got me, Potter. Granger and I, we've — we've been seeing each other," he lies, the words feeling like acid as they come out of his mouth. "The Daily Prophet caused She Weasel to ask questions, before finally figuring it out. In order to keep up appearances, Granger used obliviate on Weasley's memories. However, she was only supposed to obliviate their conversation — and you said she doesn't remember Granger at all?" Draco was proud of the lie he just told, he was only hoping Potter would fall for it. His words were so smooth, so flowing, that he knew there was no reason for Harry not to believe him.

"You lie!" Harry shouts, however, Draco can see a slight change in Harry's eyes, and Draco tries his best not to smirk. After all, Hermione had acted strange when she seen Draco at the Leaky Cauldron, and this memory caused Harry to remain silent, wondering if it was indeed possible.

"I mustn't tell lies. Pass my apologies to Weasel and Weaslette." Draco pushes past Harry, knowing his words hit Potter hard, also knowing that this would tear him apart. Not only him, but Ron as well, and if most of the Golden Trio was torn apart so quickly, Draco would have everything going smoother than imagined.

As Draco began to get lost among the crowd, he began to wonder if he made a mistake. Should he have lied to Potter and told him he had just killed Granger? Or should he have told Potter the truth, while leaving out where Hermione went? It was starting to bother him. After all, if he told Potter he killed Granger, it would tear Harry down without having to do the actual dirty work of destroying Granger. He could just keep her captive in the manor, pretend she was dead, and go after a broken Potter. So, why didn't you? He asks himself, suddenly regretting the lies of admitting Rita Skeeter told the truth for once. Draco didn't know why he did that, but the Daily Prophet was shoved into his face, and he panicked. That's the only excuse he thought of at the moment.

Never mind that, he told himself as he made his way home. What I told him will still tear him down, for he'll be broken up that Weaslette doesn't remember her best friend. He'll also be broken up that Granger cheated on Weasely. Yes, everything will work out.

Draco finally allowed himself to smirk.

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The manor was quiet by the time Draco returned. It was as if everyone was already sleeping, but he had known better than to assume that. Despite it being late in the night, he knew his parents weren't sleeping. His father was most likely out somewhere, while his mother was probably waiting for him, or perhaps she was with Granger. Draco had almost forgotten about Granger being there, and he decides to go find her.

However, he begins to grow rather angry and nervous, when he finds his mother in the dining room alone, Granger not being anywhere in sight. "Where is she?" He spits, not realizing how rude he was coming across. "Did she leave? Did you let her go?"

"Draco Malfoy," his mother began, not being in the mood for his sudden temper. "She's in the library." Narcissa wanted a relationship with her son, she wanted him healed and better, she wanted him to come back to her, but she was tired of the anger and frustration he would always show. She just wanted a smile from him every now and then, was that too hard to ask for?

Immediately after hearing this, he leaves his mother alone, before walking swiftly towards the library. As he walked, his steps rang against the walls, and echoed back toward him. The noise reminded him of how empty the manor was, how vast and cold it really seemed. He then began to wonder if Hermione had flashbacks of memories while he was gone, memories of the war, that both Hermione and Draco would like to forget.

His breath was heavy — he was fearful she may have escaped — and he found himself almost running after he began to realize she most likely did leave. Why would she stay? If he were her, he'd escape at any chance he got. After all, she's escaped from the manor before, who's to say she couldn't do it again? It wasn't as if his mother was watching over her, not in the way he was hoping, of course.

However, his feet slow down and eventually he comes to a stop when he enters the library. It took everything inside of him, not to smile at what he was looking at. For across the room sitting at one of the tables, was Granger. A book was wide open lying on the table's surface, while her face was lying on the book. She was fast asleep, and Draco could hear her soft snores from across the room. In this moments, she looked like the Hermione Granger he remembered, in this moment, she wasn't in pain, she wasn't broken, she wasn't hurt, she was just Granger. He could look at her and believe he was looking at the brightest witch, for here she wasn't scowling, or crying, or shouting. . .she was only sleeping. Even her hair was looking rather bushy, and Draco's want of smiling, finally leaves him. He had a plan to destroy her to get to Potter, but it was so difficult to think of doing such a thing, when she looked like this. However, he dug himself a deep hole — with lying to Potter about the Daily Prophet's heading being true — that he was unsure of what he should do now. It was one thing to hurt Potter — that he didn't mind — but it was another to hurt Granger. It wasn't as if she were different, but then again, she was. Not only that, but she had stayed. Draco knew she most likely had a moment to herself, a moment where she had the chance to escape, but she didn't. Perhaps, she found herself in a good book and forgot about the need to leave, or perhaps, she had just stayed to stay. This, however, was a ridiculous idea, and Draco wanted to scoff at himself.

He was curious about the book she was reading, though, so he happened to walk over to her, and look around her head, hoping to find a title. Of course, he thought to himself, when he read the title, it being E. Nesbit's Fairy Tales. It didn't surprise him to see that Granger liked reading fairy tales. His amusement soon disappeared when he began to wonder if she read fairy tales to escape reality. It was then, he knew he would find out what happened to her. There had to be something more behind the war, for Potter went through a lot, Weaslette went through a lot, and Weasel himself went through a lot, but none of them held the pain like Granger did. It was as if there were something they had all missed that she had gone through. It was as if Hermione had found the pain Draco himself discovered.

"What did they do to you, Granger?" He whispers as he looks down at her. It wasn't as if he cared, he was merely curious. After all, it's not everyday the brightest witch falls into her own cracked shell, not being able to pull herself out. He then begins to think of the times she would drink herself to the point of passing out. He then is reminded of her asking him how he knew. When she asked him that, he wanted nothing more than to shout at her, I was sitting at the table across from you, drinking myself into a stupor to forget the pain. But he didn't, because he couldn't. Granger was already here to fix him, she didn't need to know something else that would make her want to fix him even more. Especially since he didn't need her help. No, he was fine without her.

He was going to leave her there — he didn't care to be in the library all night — but the position she was sitting in, looked rather uncomfortable. Her neck was twisted funny, and her back was curved in a way that couldn't possibly be comfortable. "Dammit," he curses under his breath, before scratching the back of his neck.

Putting his arm around her back, he slides his other arm under her legs, before gently picking her up. She wasn't very heavy — he concluded she didn't have a large appetite after the war — which made it easier to carry her. He had no idea why he was taking time away from his own slumber, to carry her into one of the spare bedrooms, all he knew, was that he did it. He was a Death Eater, carrying his enemy and setting her down on the bed, before placing a blanket over her. However, he wasn't just any death eater, and she wasn't just any enemy. He was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger, and somehow that just made sense. It was a plausible excuse as to why he did that.

Walking over to the chair in the corner, he found himself sitting down in it, for he couldn't sleep in his own room. What if Granger woke up before me, and tried to make a run for it? He couldn't take such a chance, so he stayed in the spare bedroom with her, and eventually he fell asleep on the chair, despite being rather uncomfortable.

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Hermione woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains. It took her a moment to realize where she was, and it only took her a moment before her mood dropped drastically. She was in the Malfoy Manor, held captive by Draco and her agreement to help heal him. That was one task that was neither easier said nor done.

However, it took her a longer moment, to realize she was no longer in the library. "Where am I?" She mutters to herself, before sitting up in the bed, only to find Draco directly across from her, fast asleep in the chair. "It can't be," she whispers, knowing Draco wasn't the one to carry her into the room. But who else? Why would he make her comfortable, if he were just going to kill her? Narcissa. The agreement with Narcissa. Just being reminded of the agreement and the previous day she endured, automatically causes her stomach to turn. Her best friend no longer knows who she is, and she hasn't talked to Ron or Harry since Ginny had shooed them away. It was all such a mess, she couldn't even imagine how Ron must be feeling, especially after seeing the Daily Prophet headlines. So much has happened in such a short time, Hermione told herself it must be a dream. However, as she threw the blanket off of her — her sleeve lifting in the process and exposing a few letters of her scar — she knew it was everything but a dream. This wasn't just something to wake up from, this was something she had to live through.

She couldn't help but stare at Draco. There was so much anger and hurt inside of her from what he had done, that it took everything she had, not to march over there and punch him good in the nose. He deserved more than that. He deserved to be hexed, to be tortured himself. However, Hermione knew that torturing would only make him worse, especially with all that he had already gone through. Still, he wasn't the only one with pain, and he needed to see that. Hermione had enough pain to deal with, far before Draco came and used obliviate on Ginny. That was just the action that really broke her. Nevertheless, she wasn't going to give up. She had only been with Malfoy for a day, but he hasn't killed her yet. Perhaps, she'll help him enough that he no longer will want to kill her or Potter.

As she looked at him, so peaceful and still, not coming across as the boy in pain, she knew he would never change. Not for her. He's hated her since first year, he's going to hate her forever. It wasn't as if she enjoyed his company, she just wanted the hatred to be over with. It's been three years, some things you need to just let go. Malfoy himself was a good example of what bitterness could do to you.

She only sat there for a few minutes, before Draco began to stir. Hermione didn't want him to know she was staring at him, so she quickly lays back down just as he opens his eyes.

She can hear him yawning, before he stands up and walks over to the bed, wanting to see if she was still asleep. He thought she was — for she looked believable — until her stomach let out a very large growl. "Granger, get up. You need food," he tells her, his voice deeper than usual from just waking up.

"Why do you care to feed me? Maybe, I don't want to eat, have you thought of that?" Hermione was only trying to be stubborn. After everything Draco did, he deserved to have a contradiction, and Hermione didn't feel afraid like she did the previous day. It was as if the good night's sleep refreshed her bravery and all.

"You get out of that bed, or I'll get you out," he threatens. He wasn't in the mood for an argument, for he, himself, was hungry. In fact, he wasn't in the mood for anything. He happened to have woke up on the wrong side of the bed — or in this case, chair.

"Why did you even put me here?" She asks as she sits up. "Why get me comfortable if you're just going to kill me?"

Her questions are making him upset even more, and he's tempted to get out his wand and hex her just to keep her quiet. "Should've just left you in the library, eh?" He spits. "Should've just killed you, then you wouldn't be asking questions."

"Then why didn't you?" Hermione whispers, not really wanting to be reminded of the way Draco held his wand against her throat, for those wounds were too new.

"Full of questions aren't you?" He scoffs. "There are three unforgivable curses, Granger, don't make me use all of them." He could tell she was growing slightly braver, but she still wasn't the Hermione Granger he used to remember. He was reminded of how she stayed last night, and he figured if she were asking questions, it was now his turn. "Why did you stay last night? I'm sure you had a moment to yourself, where you could have escaped."

Hermione wasn't expecting this question — she knew it would eventually come up, but wasn't assuming it'd be now — so, she had to take a moment to reply. "Your mother," she tells him after a pause. "I promised to help you, I don't break a promise if I can help it."

"Just because I've spared you a few times, don't think we're going to be friends," Draco tells her, his irritation still high. "I'm still going to kill you," he almost threatens.

"I know," she mutters, before getting off of the bed, not wanting to be lying there anymore. Lying where Draco had laid her. It just didn't seem right, nothing seemed right, and Hermione had to take a deep breath, hoping this would all end soon.

This time, she didn't argue when he mentioned breakfast. She just followed him, hoping to be stronger today than she's been in a long time.

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