You Change My Mind | By : AkashaTheKitty Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Here's a little bit more :) Enjoy!
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Hermione was
pacing. She didn’t like this. She didn’t like this one bit. Something was just
not right.
For one thing,
she was alive.
For another, she
was unharmed.
And it had been
ten days. Ten whole days! Or, well, she thought it had.
She had expected
to be thrown in a dungeon. Somewhere dark and dank with
chains. She hadn’t been. She had been given a bedroom. Granted, it was
an odd bedroom. It had been stripped of everything but a lamp, a desk with a
chair, an armchair, a bed and a blanket. The floors were carpeted, though, even
if the walls were bare. She could feel why, as the cold was creeping in at
night. There was a small connecting bathroom with a toilet, a sink and a tub.
Again there were only the bare necessities – a toothbrush, toothpaste, towels,
and a bar of soap.
The soap had
lately been employed in doing some emergency laundry. Ten days in the same
clothes really didn’t agree with
anyone, but Hermione took great care in always staying somewhat decent. You never
knew, and she certainly wasn’t about to give anyone any ideas. Not that her
antics were likely from keeping such ideas from happening if they were going
to… but still.
She couldn’t see
anything but darkness when she looked out the window. Some spell had been cast
on it to block out the view. She counted the days by her meals and she had been
given 29 meals so far, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the meals
were given at a more or less random interval. In the beginning, she hadn’t
touched the food at all, but after a while she realized that she was only
punishing herself and, besides, eating was at least something to do.
She hadn’t seen
another human being in all of that time. All she saw was a house elf bringing
her the tray at mealtimes, or, once, changing her bed linen, but she had given
up on trying to communicate with it. It kept its eyes averted and never said a
word. She couldn’t get close to it, either; it seemed to have some sort of
magical shield surrounding it.
Figuring out
that there was no escaping, through neither the window nor
the door, hadn’t taken her more than an hour. There were too many wards.
Figuring out that she couldn’t smash the mirror in the bathroom, either, had
only taken a few minutes. Of course she couldn’t. There was no fireplace, which
helped in making the room rather cold, and there was not a lot she could do save from strangling herself
with her blanket, which she couldn’t even do effectively. These people were
many things, but stupid was unfortunately not one of them.
There was
nothing to do with her time. Hermione realized that complaining about being
bored wasn’t exactly prudent, but with nothing to do, nothing to look at, nothing to occupy her mind… her imagination was working
overtime. Why were they keeping her here? What did they plan to do with her?
How painful would her death be?
She was so busy
fretting that she almost didn’t hear the door open.
Draco stepped
inside the room, closing the door with a soft click. Yes, she seemed more than
ready to begin. She looked disheveled, her hair in tangles, her clothes rumpled
and… her feet bare? He smirked. Perhaps even
oh-so-perfect Mudblood girls got smelly socks if they had to keep them on long
enough. She had obviously been pacing, before he entered, and now she looked at
him warily. Good. She had reason to be wary.
He sat down in
the armchair and looked at her pensively. How to go about this the best way?
“W-what do you
want?” Hermione asked.
Draco’s eyebrows
shot up. Now wasn’t that a loaded question to ask your Death Eater captor?
“Information would be nice,” he suggested.
She raised her
chin defiantly and looked him straight in the eye. “You aren’t getting any, so
you might as well kill me now!”
He’d suspected
as much, but merely tutted. “Inviting your enemies to
kill you is not a very wise move, Granger.”
“Are you?” she
asked, sadness in her eyes and voice.
“Am I what?”
“My enemy?”
He leaned back.
This might be easier than he’d thought. “Well, that’s entirely up to you,
Granger,” he replied.
She shook her head
incomprehensively. “How can that be?”
“It’s simple,
really. I can make your life very pleasant here or—“
“Or you can make
my life a living Hell,” she interrupted. “I got that part. But don’t you people
see? I’ll never betray the Order!”
“Never is a very
long time,” Draco said. “I wouldn’t be so fast to make those kinds of
statements.”
“No, you
wouldn’t,” Hermione said with a degree of loathing in her eyes that took him
slightly aback.
“I brought you
something,” he said, deciding it was time to change the subject.
That seemed to
surprise her. He hid another smirk.
“Why?” she
asked.
Why and not what? Well, he supposed that women
might be slightly different once you took them prisoner and they were under the
threat of loss of life and limb. He took out the parcel and threw it at her;
she caught it instinctively before it brained her.
“Open it,” he
said.
Glancing at him
she did as instructed. It was a book. It was actually a very good book, albeit
a bit dry. It was about the general wizarding stance on
assorted muggle-wars and how some muggleborn wizards
and witches had chosen to fight unseen using magic. There were even detailed
accounts of the ensuing legal proceedings and inevitable punishments. He knew
she’d like it even if it did stress that the muggleborns
had been wrong.
He’d considered
bringing her other things first, but he knew her priorities and he knew that
the book would please her the most. It would even please her more than a
hairbrush, which, he made a note to himself, he’d
better bring her next time, before her hair grew a life of its own.
She stared at
the book for a few long seconds and then she looked up at him again, her
expression unfathomable. “Why?” she asked again.
She was
beginning to annoy him. He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s a book. You
like bloody books. If you don’t want it then give it back.”
She hugged the
book protectively to her chest. So she did want it? Good.
“I don’t bite,”
he said as gently as he could manage. “I don’t see any reason why we can’t get
along.”
“Other than the
fact that I won’t help you in any way,” she said defensively.
He made a
dismissive hand gesture. “We’ll worry about that later.”
Her eyes grew
suspicious and her gaze flickered to the door. He would love to know what was
going on inside that bushy little head of hers.
“Nobody will
harm you,” he said. “Not as long as you and I stay… friends.”
Her eyes flew
back to him as he spoke, and her hands tightened on the book. He thought her
glance hardened when he said the word ‘friends’, but her expression went blank
so fast that he couldn’t be sure.
“I see,” she
carefully said.
He suppressed
the urge to sigh. For a first meeting, it had actually gone surprisingly well.
She wasn’t in hysterics or crying or trying to claw his eyes out. That pleased
him. Unforgiveable Curses really did very little to promote trust and
friendship.
He got up. “I’ll
leave you to it, then,” he said, going to the door. She made a little sound and
he turned towards her with his eyebrows raised.
“That’s it?” she
asked in a small voice.
He smirked.
“That’s it.” Then he was gone.
Hermione scowled
at the closed door. She wasn’t sure what to make of this. Draco Malfoy had
never been civil to her even once, so it was more than obvious that he was up
to something. It wasn’t quite as obvious what
it was he was up to. If he merely wanted information, then there were faster
ways to get it than giving her books, that was for
sure.
She looked down
on the volume in her hands. Wizards in muggle-wars.
Drat. Why did he have to actually give her a book that she wanted to read?
**********
If you're wondering about
what time I go by it's
GMT+1. Just if you think my updating schedule is getting a bit wonky XD
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