Refuge: The Repair of Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger

Chapter 5

He was wandless. He was bound. And he had a very frazzled Hermione Granger pointing her want at him.

"Well, fancy meeting you here." He drawled in an obvious attempt to maintain composure.

"Quiet! Why were your fellow death eaters attacking you?"

"Getting straight to it, I see."

"Answer my question!"

"I'd hardly say they were my 'fellow' death eaters."

"And why is that?"

"You're shite at interrogating, mudblood."

Hermione's blood froze, and she felt her arm sting were the word had been butchered into her skin.

"Don't. Call. Me. That!" She spat, shoving the tip of her wand into his jugular.

"Answer my question, or we can trade my poor interrogating techniques for my wandwork, in which I assure you I am more than proficient with a multitude of curses you could never even think of."

"Tense, Granger?"

"Shut up!"

"Did you want me to shut up, or did you want me to answer your question? Make up your mind."

"I want to carve you into a thousand little peices and then scatter you across the globe, but seeing as you might still prove useful, I will resist until you prove me wrong. So I suggest you hurry and prove your use before I come to my senses."

"Mmmm, when did you get so dark, Granger? I never thought you, of all people, would lower themselves to torturing for information."

Once again, his words tore through her, but Hermione steadied herself and met his steeley gaze.

"These are dark times." but her words shook. Looking into his eyes, memories from that night ricocheted through her mind, making her dizzy and sick. He had been there, he had seen her scream, he had heard her beg, and he had done nothing. She hated him. She hated him so much. One flick of her wand and she-

"So they are." Snapping out of her vehemently malicious revere, Hermione lowered her wand slightly, almost as if in defeat.

"Why were you being chased?"

"You tell me." her captive sneered. Grinding her teeth in frustration, Hermione thought about waking Harry, who'd slept through their arguement thus far. She didn't really want to deal with Malfoy right now...but no, she could do this. It was just the ferret. The ferret who had watched her be tortured.

"Things not going so well in paradise?" The sheer sarcasm spilled out before Hermione could stop herself.

"Paradise doesn't exist, and if it did, I wouldn't be allowed in." There was a sincerity in his words, veiled in his dark tone, that caught Hermione's attention. He was starring off somewhere, far away from her, and he looked in pain. Not from the physical pain of his injuries, but from a mental sort of torment.

There was a tender pit in the hole of Hermione's stomach as she remembered what he had said when she was healing him, and she wondered what he was all about now, but the pit hardened. She couldn't feel sympathy. Did Malfoy feel symapthy when he watched her writh in pain? Did Bellatrix feel sympathy as she tortured her? Her enemies did not empathize, and therefore, in order to win, neither could she.

"As it should be. Scum like you deserve what they get."

"Then why did you so valiantly bound to my rescue?"

"Had I known it was you I was saving, I would have left you to your fate."

"Such a kind, compassionate witch you are." His mouth was set in a thin, hard line, but his eyes roamed over everything, watching her face intently. "You look like shite."

"Yes, well, so do you."

Malfoy made no noise, simply bowing his head in acknowledgement before turning his profile to her. He had such sharp, cold aristocratic features. There was no warmth in his face, no life. He looked gaunt and skeleton-esque. And his suffering state brought Hermione great pleasure.

"I hate you." She whispered in vehemence, trying to burn him with her words.

Once again, Malfoy didn't speak. He cut his eyes sharply to her, and inclined his head ever so slightly, before Ron burst through into the small space, growling, before making quick strides over to Malfoy and delivering one good quick punch to Malfoy's sharp, straight nose. Upon connection, the bone released a sickening crunch. The commotion awoke Harry, who scrambled up, wand in hand, to witness Ron standing over a bloody-nosed Malfoy, while Hermione stood gaping, torn between being pleased at more pain being inflicted upon Malfoy and anger at Ron's interference.

"Well," Harry said, lowering his wand, "I hope you're sure about this, Hermione."