Vacivitas

Chapter Six

She takes her seat without greeting either of them, settling into her cushioned chair as they stare at her. Just because she knows who Blaise is, doesn't mean she has to pretend like she's seeing an old friend. If she tried to count how many of their classmates he'd killed during the war, she'd likely run out of fingers.

"Good evening, Granger." Blaise's voice is smooth, with the hint of cheekiness that it's always possessed. "Long time no see. You look stunning."

She tries not to wrinkle her nose. She's not wearing any make-up. It's just a dress. There's nothing for him to be stunned by, and she wouldn't want his compliments anyway. So she offers him the best she's got for him.

"Thank you."

"Of course. How are you?"

"I'm being held prisoner by my childhood bully," Hermione replies smoothly, meeting his gaze with candor. "How do you think I'm faring?"

His teeth flash white against the ebony of his skin, only a few shades darker than her own, as his smile widens. "Well, you certainly haven't lost your spark."

She doesn't reply, knowing that she has lost her spark. There's hardly even a candle flame within her. All that drives her is pure determination to survive, and the promise she made her friends in the darkness of that pit.

"If you think this is my spark, give me a wand," she says without the hint of a smile. "I'll show you my spark."

"Forgive her rudeness, Blaise," Malfoy says in that lazy drawl of his, ignoring what she's just said. "She doesn't like the accommodations I've provided her with."

"A shame," Blaise says, leaning back in his seat. He places his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his chin on his closed fist. He speaks to Malfoy, but keeps his gaze trained upon her. "Of all my customers, your accommodations are the most preferred."

Hermione scoffs. "Yes, I suppose I should admit that the state of my prison cell is quite comfortable. But a cage is still a cage, and even singing birds gaze through the bars."

"Are you offering us a song?" Blaise asks, and his brown eyes seem to light up. His back straightens in his seat.

"No," she says in a flat voice. "I am not."

"Shame."

The food appears before them on plates that gleam, reflective as a mirror. Hermione tucks in, knowing that the sooner she finishes her food, the sooner she can excuse herself. She wants this supper over as quickly as possible. As the men eat their own meals, their conversation begins to flow.

"How do your parents fare?" Zabini asks after swallowing a mouthful. He dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "I heard Daphne Greengrass was recently matched with Goyle, of all wizards."

"Yes. That." Malfoy grimaces, once again surprising Hermione with the showing of emotion. She's so used to him showing no emotion that it looks alien. "She's hoping to send a message."

"A message? How is she able to do that when the matches are analyzed so carefully? Aren't they supposed to pass tests of compatibility?"

"Test results can be modified. And when your husband is the head of International Affairs, in control of such important liaisons for the king...Any modification is yours to make."

Hermione frowns. Hadn't Malfoy said Helena Greengrass was Narcissa's partner? Why would she agree to her own daughter being matched with someone less than favorable?

"I can't fathom what the message would be," Zabini goes on, his brow furrowing with his confusion. "The Goyles are borderline disgraced. After what his father did, I would think the last thing the king would want to do is to provide him a favorable match."