Captured

Chapter Twenty-Five: Success

The two of them didn't talk about how close they had come that night to going much further than they'd ever gone, but to be fair, they didn't have a lot of time to talk.

They fell into a new, quasi-pattern as they adjusted to the manor having other witches and wizards in it again - particularly witches and wizards that could not know under any circumstances that Malfoy wasn't performing legilimency on her as he had told the other Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.

Malfoy would come by in the evenings or afternoons, under the guise of performing legilimency sessions, but they had to do it every other day or every few days, as the other Death Eaters and Dark Lord would be suspicious if he was working on her everyday and he both had no new information, and her health was overall fine. She never knew when he would appear.

Malfoy had to check in with the Dark Lord once a week on progress and for information, and nearly every time he came to her afterwards, the lingering effects of the Cruciatus curse were evident. Her hands ached, every time he collapsed into her chair exhausted and recovering, to hold her wand so she could help him. She couldn't do anything without it. Being stuck in the room permanently again was making her restless, restless and anxious. She hated feeling so bloody useless, and that simply made the restlessness worse. She was losing track of time as well, having no set schedule to go by made it difficult. That and the fact that her nightmares had become worse again, she was sure due to the rising feeling of suffocation that seemed to be plaguing her and becoming worse daily.

Bipsy was the only consistent thing in her days, appearing when she could to provide food, and take Hermione to the restroom or to bathe; though the time of the visits varied greatly, increasing Hermione's difficulty in tracking days.

She finally asked Bipsy one day, a hint of desperation in her voice, what day it was.

February 2nd, Bipsy had told her, and after seeing the relief in Hermione's face at a bit of information, she began mentioning the date every time she saw Hermione, who was incredibly grateful that she didn't have to continue to ask.

Her days continued like this for weeks, helping Malfoy with his patronus when he could come to practice, practicing and inevitably not succeeding at wandless magic, and desperately clinging to any conversation she could with Bipsy.

On February 12th, Hermione remembered with a start that it was nearly Luna's birthday. She begged Bipsy to check on Luna and smuggle her a bit of dessert if she could. Bipsy nervously agreed and told Hermione later that she had been able to smuggle a bit of cake to the confused, but appreciative, Luna, who was subsequently doing alright as well. Well, as alright as someone can be when held in a cold dungeon.

Before she knew it, February was nearly over and depression was beginning to set in. Malfoy had made progress, but it was small, just flickers of silvery light from the end of his wand here and there. She felt useless, like a failure.

She was failing at being a good teacher for him, failing at wandless magic, had failed at finding anything helpful for Harry and Ron's search should she find a way to escape, failing at coming up with a plan he would agree to, that would get her out safely and not come back on his mother.

She was failing.

She was a failure.

It was an unfamiliar feeling for her, and she absolutely loathed it.

And she was trapped. In this small room. With nothing to do but dwell on her anxiety.

The room felt smaller everyday, suffocating. She just wanted to breathe.

And she didn't know when she'd be able to again.

~.~.~

"Very well, Draco. It seems as though we have gotten nearly everything we will be able to from Harry Potter's mudblood. I will give you another month. If she has not given us more useful information by then, we will have to explore other options."