Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

Her refusal to use the inviting copper bath had melted as quickly as her refusal to change her clothes, and now she'd added another new activity to her daily routine; a nightly bath filled with exquisite smelling salts and lotions.

The first bath had lasted a total of forty-five seconds. She hadn't been able to sit there any longer. She couldn't bear to lower her guard for even a second more, no matter how many times she'd repeated that she was safe, and no one was going to barge in.

By her second attempt, she managed one minute, the night after two, then three. By the fourth night, she figured if Malfoy was going to barge into the bathroom while she was naked, he would have done it by now, so she started to relax. She still found it impossible to switch off entirely, but it did calm her nerves a little - and being clean again certainly made her feel more human.

Astoria had a keen interest in healing magic and restorative potions. There was a large building on the right wing of the grounds which was separate from the house, and Astoria had converted it into a Potions storage unit with several cauldrons and workstations.

The inside of the building was humid and dark, and the shelves were stacked with every ingredient and potion Hermione could think of. She found Astoria and her husband cooped up inside almost daily, fussing over ingredients and parchment with a simmering cauldron between them. Whatever they were trying to cook up either smelled incredibly sweet, or awfully bitter - depending on the day. Astoria always offered Hermione a kind smile when she entered and asked if she wanted to join them.

The scowl Zabini threw Hermione told her that she was in fact not welcome to do so. She always politely declined.

Astoria's hands were solemnly never empty. The petite blonde always clutched a glass of wine between her manicured fingers - either red or white - or a silver flask if she was outside. Hermione had guessed it was filled with coffee or tea to begin with, just something to warm her hands, but she wasn't so sure anymore.

And, like Hermione, Astoria liked to wander the grounds of the estate each day as well. However, unlike Hermione, Astoria never did so unaccompanied.

Some days Nott escorted her. Hermione had run into them on Tuesday in the hallway outside her room. The pair had had their arms linked and were whispering and giggling to one another as they made their way past Hermione. Astoria had a glass of red wine in her hands that day.

Most of the time Zabini chaperoned her. Hermione had almost knocked into the pair outside the main kitchen on Thursday. Astoria had smiled sweetly and asked if she wanted to join them for a drink. Blaise had narrowed his eyes at her. The blonde had white wine that day.

Yes, Hermione had learned a lot about Astoria since her return to the manor, but she'd learned even more about Malfoy.

It was a strange thing indeed to see the way he and Astoria acted when they were around one another. Hermione had watched them walk together countless times over the past week - she walked with Malfoy almost as often as she did with her husband. Their arms were always linked together whenever Malfoy escorted her, and Astoria often rested her head against his shoulder - the part she could reach, anyway - as they made their rounds.

Their relationship reminded Hermione of a loving brother and sister. There was a softness to Malfoy whenever he was with Astoria, a kindness that Hermione had never seen in him. He was gentle in the way he handled her, in the way his eyes twinkled slightly while they spoke, and the way he took her hand to lead her up any staircase or slight incline of a hill, as though she weren't capable of walking up them without assistance.

The fact that Malfoy had a kind bone in his body - even a minuscule one - had shocked Hermione to her core. The first time she'd seen Malfoy take Astoria's hand and help her off the leather armchair she was perched in, Hermione's jaw had almost hit the floor.

She'd been so shocked, thought it so out of character for him, that she immediately mistook it as a trick of the light. A one-off. Because if there was one thing she was certain of - above anything else- Draco Malfoy did not possess a drop of tenderness or human kindness in his veins, never had.

But then she'd witnessed a similar thing happen the next day. And then the day after that.

All the men were incredibly delicate with Astoria. They all treated her like she was made of glass and never left her on her own for long, but there was something different about the way Malfoy treated her, it was .... protective. As though the world were too much of a dangerous place for someone like Astoria, and she needed to be shielded from the hazards outside.

They spent an infuriating amount of time sitting on the bench under the cherry blossom tree, the one that had quickly become Hermione's favou- the most tolerable place on the estate. She found them there often, huddled close together and sharing whatever was in that mysterious flask in her hands. Malfoy always had a cigarette in his mouth while they sat on the bench and talked, and it took almost every ounce of self-control Hermione had not to ask him for one.

She hoped he hadn't noticed that she always swiftly left the vicinity every time he had one in his mouth.

Astoria didn't laugh as much with Malfoy as she did with Nott or Zabini. Their conversations always looked much more serious, but he always had a small smile at the edges of his lips when they were together.

During their walks, Astoria would often suddenly unlink their arms and step in front of Malfoy, blocking his path and forcing him to stop and look at her. Hermione would watch from her window as she took his face in her hands - Malfoy had to bend down slightly to allow her to do so - before Astoria would say something to him. Hermione could never make out what it was, but Astoria always wore a stern look on her face whenever it happened. Her eyes were always fiercely determined, her brows always furrowed in the middle. Malfoy would shake his head at her, and then they would link arms again and carry on as though this bizarre exchange had never happened.

Hermione was dying to know what they were saying -

"I never took you for a peeping tom," a low voice whispered from beside her. It was much closer than Hermione had expected, close enough she could feel his breath on her neck as he spoke, and the suddenness of it almost made her fall off her perch.

Hermione whipped around to face Malfoy, tripping over her own feet as she stumbled backwards and tried to put as much space between them as possible.

He smirked, folded his arms across his chest, and leaned against the wardrobe to study her. He was dressed in his Death Eater robes but they appeared clean today, untainted with flecks of crimson the way they usually were. "Someone is a little jumpy today." He quirked a brow. "Need something to calm your nerves?"

"I am not jumpy!" she spat, her face twisting into a scowl as she tried to calm the violent beating of her heart. "You just startled me! You should learn to knock-"

The words died on her tongue when he reached into his robes and wordlessly withdrew a packet of cigarettes. Her mouth ran dry when he placed one between his lips, and lit it with the tip of his wand.

He squeezed his eyes closed when he inhaled, tipping his head back towards the ceiling as the nicotine washed into his lungs.

He was completely exposed like this; every inch of his pale throat was on display and itching to be sliced open. If she had a weapon, she would have gladly done so.

When he exhaled slowly, he was engulfed in a thick sheen of grey smoke that covered him like a sinister halo. Malfoy smirked when he looked at her again, giving her that signature lift of his brow when he saw that her hands were balled into fists.