The Shattered Dragon

Chapter 1: The Proposal

And it all fell apart.

For everyone.

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The cell was small and smelled of urine and musty bricks. Across from her was a cell no bigger than hers, but holding four people: two parents and two children. His is what it had come to. They were imprisoning families. She tugged at her shapeless grey dress, trying to stay warm, rattling the chains around her wrists, little flakes of rust and dirt sticking to her forearms.

Slow, ambling footsteps crunched over the stones in the hallway outside her little hovel and she steeled herself, waiting for news of her incarceration, how long, how awful, whether she had any chance of release, although stealing from one of the last powerful wizarding families in England didn't bode well for her, especially given her history.

"Good morning Granger, you're looking spectacular."

Draco stood outside of her cell with his arms crossed over his chest, smiling a smug little smile of victory that she knew only too well. He seemed out of place with his crisply pressed trousers and black button down shirt. He wore a thick silver watch around his wrist that would have paid for the family across the hall to live comfortably for a year and a thin silver chain around his neck with a small, flat pendant.

"Fuck off Malfoy," Hermione said, closing her eyes, resting her head against the stone wall. She hadn't been able to sleep in days. The smells, the sounds, the cold, the fear; she was exhausted and hungry and this was the last thing she wanted to deal with.

"Did you know that crimes against pureblood families are punished to the fullest extent? Particularly when committed by a muggleborn."

She opened one eye, honestly shocked that he'd not called her a mudblood or one of the other artful slurs that had been developed over the last few years.

"If you're here to gloat, please do it quietly. I'm tired."

He laughed genuinely then and she looked at him, really looked at him. She hadn't seen him in at least two years, maybe longer. He looked healthier than her, certainly, but still a bit drawn, dark circles around his eyes. He didn't look like a millionaire playboy, that was for sure. She knew he was a bit of an outsider in wizarding society...but it was to be expected in his line of work.

"I'm here to break you out, or offer you a chance to get out. Being a handsome citizen in good standing I've spoken to the authorities and the Pureblood Council and they've agreed to let you go."

"What?" She stood, walking towards the bars that separated them. Nothing he was saying made any sense.

He could see her fully now, her stick thin frame and features sharpened by hunger, the shapeless prison dress hanging off of sharp shoulders. Her eyes were not the fiery chestnut color he remembered, just dark, dull pebbles, her cracked lips twisting and worrying, her teeth chewing at the bottom one.

"Don't get too excited darling. You know I'd never let you walk free just out of the goodness of my heart. You're a dangerous criminal after all," he said, examining a dial on his watch, then his fingernails, his face a mask of complete boredom. "But you can leave this prison and work off your debt to society elsewhere."