Manacled by Senlinyu

chapter 7

Hermione wanted to throw something at the painting, but she curled her fingers into fists and forced herself not to react. She walked slowly around the room. Peeking into the wardrobe. Under the bed. Into the bathroom.

She slipped behind the heavy winter drapes and looked out over another section of the hedge maze.

She checked every floorboard, but none of them so much as squeaked.

Of course it wouldn't be easy.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to walk slowly into the next room.

It was almost exactly the same. The portrait followed and kept watch by sitting down to an impressionist style picnic laid out beside a river. Daintily nibbling cheese while she studied Hermione.

The third room was the most heartening. Not that it actually contained anything even remotely useful, but the bathroom contained a shower. Hermione's heart leapt slightly. She was dying to shower.

Washing her hair in a bathtub was just one of the innumerable things she hated about her life. When she'd awoken in the Hogwarts infirmary after passing out, her hair and body had been scourgified to remove the months of grime. She couldn't remember when she'd last washed her hair properly.

She went on to the next room. She kept going. Her panic attacks seemed slightly under control when she focused on moving from room to room. Making herself count slowly to four with each inhaled and exhaled breath.

It was primarily the hallway that bothered her. The vast, open, unknown...

Individual rooms were contained. Manageable.

She made her way through all the unlocked rooms in the hallway. The closest thing to useful that she found in any of them was a fireplace poker—which she couldn't touch.

She made her way back to her room and curled up in the chair by the window.

She felt at a loss. What was she supposed to do?

She closed her eyes.

Her insides shriveled slightly. She needed to get close to Malfoy.

He was the closest thing to a key that she had. As long as he remained a mystery, she would have no way of predicting which ways he was and was not careful.

He appeared meticulous. Everything was unbreakable. A portrait in every room and bathroom. But no one was perfect. Everyone has some weakness, and she would find Malfoy's and use it to end him.

It would, of course, be a game of cat and mouse.

Any weaknesses she discovered, he would find quickly in her mind. If she didn't know anything about him and just tried to be unpredictable, he would still find it in her mind. The trick would be getting to know him well enough that she could move faster than he could stop her.

The thought of being anywhere near him was terrifying.

She hissed faintly through her teeth and curled into a tighter ball. Just the thought of being in sight of Malfoy made a needle-like sensation of terror slide down her spine and coil in her lower back.

She buried her face in the chair.

She would do it.

She would.

Just—not yet.

She needed a few more days to get her bearings. To separate from the last five days she'd just endured.

Maybe the day after tomorrow.

Malfoy did not give her time to separate or find her bearings. He walked into her room when she was finishing lunch the next day, and she was so horrified she nearly screamed.