This story was originally called the Choice, but as I wrote it it gained a new name which I thought suited it better, so here is the story formerly known as the Choice. Please tell me what you think. Istalindar.

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Hermione let the letter slip from loose fingers and flutter to the floor. She turned her head to stare out the diamond-paned window into the dark night, the light of streetlights miles away from the extensive grounds of Malfoy Manor.

It hadnt been her choice to come here.

If she'd had a choice it would have been the last place she would have gone.

Dear Hermione.

His voice seemed to echo in her ear, the sound coming up from the discarded letter lying on the floor. He was gone now, or so he said.

Your freedom is now a matter of your own choosing, and there is little more I can do for you.

But it was his house. So how was he meant to leave it? She supposed he meant he was leaving her, which was ironic, since he had brought her to him in the first place.

As far as I know, the danger is past…

He had her best interests at heart, she was sure. He had when he had kidnapped her, which he had told her from the start and she had only understood three months later.

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She slipped into the darkened flat late that night, dropping her wand and keys on the kitchen table and stripping the protective clothing from her tired form as she headed for the bathroom. The flat was silent, as always, since Julia had moved out there was no more returning to blaring music and rampant mess. Instead everything was quiet and immaculately tidy, except…

On the floor of her bedroom, her pink satin thong was lying in the middle of the floor, making her pause at the doorway. She knew for a fact that the thong had been in the drawer that morning, because she had considered wearing it and had decided against it, deciding that with what she was wearing it was neither necessary nor practical. She had put it back in the drawer and gotten dressed.

So why was it in the middle of her floor?

The idiot she was, leaving her wand in the kitchen. Call yourself an auror? She chided herself with annoyance.

Shut up and concentrate.

She relaxed slightly and let her senses take over, trying to work out if there was anything she should be worried about. A soft sound behind her made her whirl, and then there was a tight hand over her mouth and the overwhelming smell of chloroform and then she was spiralling into darkness.

She woke on a soft bed in a dimly lit room. She was still fully dressed; lying on top of the dark green satin covers which seemed to match the prevailing colour scheme, what little she could make out of it. The room had old-fashioned furniture – a four poster bed, an elegant vanity with a stool before it. There were french-doors to the left, which opened onto, she assumed, a balcony.

Hermione slipped off the bed and padded over to the French window, trying the handle. It was locked.

"Miss?" Hermione whirled, and saw a house-elf standing by the door, bringing to attention to the entrance.

"Yes?" Hermione answered cautiously.

"Twinny has orders for Miss to have a bath and then to come down to dinner." The house elf said, twisting a corner of its pillowcase uniform around one long finger.

"Does she?" Hermione asked. "Whose orders?"

"Twinny is not allowed to say. But Twinny would like miss just to please have a bath so miss can go to dinner and talk to master."

"Master?" Hermione demanded. "Who?"

"Twinny cannot say. Come miss." Twinny opened the door behind her, leading Hermione into a huge white and silver tiled bathroom, with a huge sunken bath in the corner. Twinny turned on the taps and water gushed into the pool from both the bottom and the top of the pool.

"What bubbles would miss like?"

"Lime." Hermione answered absently, looking around. The familiar sharp smell of the citrus fruit pervaded her senses, and she turned back to the rapidly filling tub. "Where am I?"

"Master's house." Twinny answered simply, turning off the taps and facing Hermione. "If miss would give Twinny her clothes, Twinny can get them cleaned."

Hermione self-consciously stripped to her tank top and girl-boxers, before pausing. "You can go now." She said, wincing at the bossiness of her tone. "I'll leave these out."

"If miss wants." Twinny disappeared with a small pop, and Hermione finished stripping and stepped down the tile steps into the deep hot bath.

"Thank god for hot water." She muttered as she submerged up to her chin, the hot water soaking her still-aching muscles and uncoiling the tension there. The day itself had been hectic – Voldemort had only recently been conquered, taking Harry 20 years to finally do it, and now, six months on, the wizarding world was still rampant with deatheaters and all sorts of nasty monsters that didn't keep to the 'under the bed' or 'in the wardrobe' domains, preferring to eat small children in broad daylight in the middle of the street and belch fire at anyone who tried to stop them.

Hermione regarded her left arm, reddened and blistered, but not incinerated, thanks to the dragonhide protective clothing. It was still really sore, and stung like hell when she put it in the water, but she was beyond caring.

The water felt good.

"Miss?" Hermione jerked in surprise, water sloshing over the sides onto the floor. Twinny was back, carrying a very familiar set of clothes.

"Yes?" Hermione asked cooly.

"Master says miss is to get dressed now and go down to dinner." Twinny bit her lip.

To go or not to go?

First rule of hostage situations – do as you're told until you know the lay of the land.

Okay. Going then. Good thing too, I'm hungry.

"Thank you." Hermione answered. "Is there a towel?" Twinny started hurriedly handing Hermione a fluffy white towel, but Hermione shook her head. "Leave it on the side. Thanks." Twinny hesitated and Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Would miss like anything else?"

"Privacy would be nice." Hermione commented, and Twinny immediately disappeared with the signatory pop. "Ruddy hell."

Hermione dragged herself from the bathtub, dragging the towel off the counter and wrapping it around herself, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She looked awful. Huge bags under her eyes, blotchy skin. Her left shoulder was red and covered in tiny blisters which made her wince as she touched them gently. She dabbed them dry as carefully as she could before briskly rubbing the rest of her dry and turning to the pile of clothes sitting on the closed lid of the toilet.

They were her clothes, that much was certain. Her underwear – the pale blue lace edged with lime green was unmistakable. That was her layered multi-fabric black skirt, along with the dark green turtleneck.

Someone had been going through her stuff. Probably the same someone who had dropped her pink thong in the middle of her floor.

Just get dressed. She told herself sharply, pulling the panties over her legs and clipping the bra behind her back before pulling on the skirt and turtleneck. She found a brush on the counter and ran it through her hair before shrugging and leaving the bathroom, meeting Twinny outside.

"Miss is ready?" She asked, looking over Hermione before handing her a pair of ballet flats.

"Sure, why not?" Hermione asked, standing on one foot and then the other as she pulled the shoes on. "Let's go."

Twinny turned to the bathroom door and opened it, revealing a hallway.

Magic doorway. Cool

Oh, grow up. It's not like you've never seen one before.

I said it was cool not original.

Children.

Hermione immediately felt vaguely ridiculous for talking to herself, and followed Twinny into the hall and then down the corridor. Whoever owned this house was filthy rich – the walls were panelled in some sort of polished wood, the carpet was thick and deep, and when they came to the top of the staircase, Hermione stopped and gaped.

The hall ended at the top of a staircase in a great circular entrance hall. The staircase curved along the wall, ending at a black and white marble floor. Above her the ceiling arched and was domed in transparent glass that gave a good view of the clear sky and sparkling stars. All around the curved walls on the second level were sparkling windows, though downstairs the walls were bare apart from a few portraits of landscapes at different times of the year.

"Downstairs, miss." Twinny said as she started down the steps, nearly having to jump down each step which was nearly higher than the length of her short legs. Hermione followed, her hand on the polished wooden railing, making a concentrated effort to keep her mouth closed.

It was hard work.

Twinny led her through the circular hall, Hermione's reflection visible, if distorted, in the marble beneath her as they passed over it.

Note to self: don't wear skirts over this floor. Not short ones, anyway.

Twinny led her into the dining room, where two people sat at the long polished table, blonde heads bent over several pieces of paper. When Hermione walked in, they stood up, and the darker of the blondes gathered the papers and left without saying a word. The other blonde looked in her direction and she stopped dead.

"Malfoy!"

"Hermione." Malfoy smiled charmingly. "Sit down." He gestured at the chair to his right.

"What the fuck is going on?" She demanded, her hands on her hips. His smile faded.

"Sit down." He repeated.

"No. I want to know what's going on!" She demanded.

"Hermione, I am trying to be civil. At least return the favour." He said cooly.

"Look, Malfoy. I don't know whatever deatheater scheme you're involved in, but I'm not interested. You obviously knew I wouldn't be interested, or you wouldn't have kidnapped me. But now you know for sure, so I'm leaving."

"No, you're not." He said flatly, sitting down. "You'll stay right here until I decide you can leave."

"Oh, you're going to make me?" Hermione asked haughtily, crossing her arms. "How do you plan on doing that?"

"Hermione, you were the brightest witch in the entire school. You passed the auror tests with the highest mark in centuries. Use your brain."

Food appeared in front of Malfoy and he began eating. The scents made Hermione's mouth water, but she refused to back down. At her continued silence, Malfoy looked up and sighed.

"You are at Malfoy Manor. This house and everything on the very extensive grounds is directly under my control. You wouldn't get ten feet out the door, provided you got out the door, before you ended up back in the house again. And I imagine a lot of the…inhabitants of the Manor and it's grounds wouldn't be particularly gentle. They have orders not to kill you, but besides that, if you provoke them they can and will retaliate." Hermione kept silent, diligently storing up this information for her escape. "Now, are you going to eat or stand there and drool on the carpet?" Hermione glared but sat down, watching at the food appeared in front of her. She didn't start eating. "What?" He asked. "Not your thing? Suddenly turned veggie?"

"I want out." Hermione said flatly. "Whatever mad scheme you thought to get me involved in, forget it. It isnt going to happen."

"It's already happened." Malfoy said with a shrug. "Hell, it happened before I brought you here. Now eat. I know you're hungry and it's going cold and it tastes awful cold."

"What if I don't want to eat?" Hermione tested.

"Then don't. But this is it until breakfast." Malfoy continued eating, and Hermione, after deciding that it really wasn't worth the hunger, dug in. The food was excellent; she'd give him that much.

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Tell me what you think...I finally got around to finishing this, so I'd really like to have your opinions on the story.