Requiem for his soul

Chapter 9

Malfoy's presence was different than anyone else she had witnessed before. He was stronger, in control and dominating. It was as if the shadows of darkness lifted his aura and strength. Leaving something menacing to lurk behind the mask he presented to them. The mask he presented to her.

They knew, all of them knew, after reading the contract. Whether it was false or not. Whether it was a trick to lure her for their benefit.

They knew.

Hermione couldn't possibly let this go or disagree with the terms if it meant saving other lives. It was what Harry would do.

If she single-handedly received the opportunity to help all the wizards who didn't have refuge within the Order, who didn't have a place to go, who were on the constant run, allowing fear to embezzle their hearts. If she could prevent their suffering even for a split second, she would.

And they knew.

There was no question whether or not she would take it, her answer remained a hundred percent certain, like she said before, she was whored out to the war effort, expendable and used. But she wouldn't fail. Not this time, not anymore.

Ron may never speak to her again. But he would be kept safe. That's what she promised him. Protection, not marriage.

Harry would understand, she reassured herself. Harry would understand. He always did.

But she would make sure they were certain. She would make sure it wasn't a ruse. She would need evidence.

Yet the real question that flooded her thoughts was whether or not she could trust them to uphold their promise. Would the vow stay in place? Was there a possible way she could find a loophole? Or had they already found a loophole?

Theo's teasing voice mocked her thoughts. "So many questions." Hermione shook it off; she had to ask these questions. A precaution. It's just the way she's wired, her brain won't stop working, it will only rest once she's dead.

Why? she asked herself again. Why start a war against Mudblood and Purebloods with Half-bloods caught in between? Why start a war and continue what Voldemort wanted if they do not care for it?

"Granger." Malfoys voice interrupted her thoughts, and she could feel his gaze on her as she stood in the hallway, in the same neglige from the night before. A sunken corpse before a Lord, before a Dominus.

She shuddered.

The room remained dark with his arrival despite the early morning. It's as if he decided when the light would be allowed to penetrate the Manor, bending the soft inviting glow to the darkness she's all too familiar with.

It was simple. The darkness overpowered the light, the good. It was disgustingly poetic.

"Malfoy." she spoke under her breath

He smiled wide, lips pressed together tightly as he looked down on her, his shadows emerging from around his figure in swirls of black mists

They elicited his body as if he were being lifted higher than everyone in the room. "Granger." He purred, staring at her negligee with heavy lids. The thin black fabric and long silk sleeves did little to hide her jutted bones, which poked through her clothes. Malfoy's intense gaze solely focused on her, raking his eyes up and down her body painfully slow, it did little to help Hermione feel comfortable instead she felt on display.

"I see the decency to wear proper attire has slipped your mind." He snapped his fingers.

Hopsey immediately appeared with a heavy woollen cloak which the elf draped over her shoulders.