Vacivitas

Chapter Seven

Trigger warnings: allusions to the threat of future rape, violence

Chapter Seven

It takes one night of sweat-inducing nightmares for Hermione to realize she's scared of Draco Malfoy.

It's difficult for her to reconcile this fact, knowing that not only is she a Gryffindor, but she's also going to have to accept that she's not as brave as she once was. She likes to think she is. She wants to think she is. But she isn't. Not anymore.

She's lost too much to pretend otherwise.

The day after the dinner with Blaise Zabini, the only thing she's pleased about when she wakes is that her knee isn't hurting all that bad any longer. After taking lunch in her room, she finally creeps out into the hallway. The library calls her name, but she doesn't feel like reading today. Not while she's so preoccupied with her newfound lack of courage. As a result, she wanders the halls for a while, trying doorknobs and ignoring the angry portraits' derisive jibes. The manor feels eerie. It's large, almost cavernous. The carpets are soft and the decor looks expensive, but it doesn't feel any different than the pit. Both were prisons.

Thinking of the pit gets her thinking about her friends again. Tillian and Faye are important to her. They're all she has left, and she needs to figure out what to do. She wants to save them, but she isn't sure how. The only thing that makes sense is bringing them here, to the manor, but it's comical to think about. Asking Malfoy to bring two of her friends to live here when one, she was bought as a food source and two, she hasn't provided him with the food he bought. Malfoy is not and never has been a friend. Why would he have any reason to do her favors?

When almost all of the doors in the upper floor halls turn out to be locked, she gives up. There happens to be a window with a cushioned seat at the base of the sill, so she decides to take a seat and stare out the window. The grounds aren't exactly hideous, but they're not beautiful, either. Everything is green, but it seems so...Somber. Devoid of life, despite teeming with it. Even the maze is lush, growing tall and reaching for the sky.

She realizes that she hasn't seen this in ages. Grass, a sky with birds, plants and flowers and trees.

If only she could still find beauty in it.

Sometimes, she wonders how anything can still be alive with Voldemort in power. That's why she can't seem to fully fault Zabini for his business. Yes, it was awful. There was no doubt about that. But when she thought of the things she would do if it meant bringing Harry and Ron back, or freeing Tillian and Faye...Suddenly, it was understandable.

She has forty-eight hours. Forty-eight hours to make her decision. What she wants to do is bargain her blood for her friends' release, but there's something that holds her back from fully surrendering to that idea.

Her newfound fear.

Fear like this is alien to Hermione. She'd been frightened before, scared, had her adrenaline pumping while she ran for her life. But this fear? It's different. It toed the line between life and death. If she gives him her blood, what will it do to her body long-term? Will she eventually dry up and become useless to him? What then? After all, he'd blatantly told her she wouldn't be the last food source he'd procure. Would he turn her over to the Dark Lord? Obliviate her and make Voldemort think he'd just caught him a pretty little prize? Would it hurt? Would it bind her to him? Would it...

Would it feel good?

Resting the side of her head against the window, she feels the coolness of the glass seeping into her skull, soothing her. She knows the answer to that last question. Malfoy had told her in a measure of words what she would feel when he fed, which is why she was leaning closer toward bloodletting into a cup.