Two days later Hermione emerged from her room, showered and dressed in a mustard sweater, with warm trousers and socks so thick that she didn't need to put on two layers. She found them all in the dresser drawers and, stunningly, they'd all been exactly her size.Hermionie decided that if she was going to be here for a while, might as well explore and find something useful to do. Tilly already, most expressively, declined her permission to help in the kitchens or with any chores.
There were only a few things that Hermione could even think to do.
One of those was to walk the grounds. Breathe in the crisp winter air. But she hadn't been able to find any shoes in the room, so there went that idea.
The Zabini library was next, even though Hermione knew it wasn't as extensive as Nott's or Malfoy's. She still wanted to browse through it, of course. Every library was different. Every volume would be new to her. And she missed the smell of the pages. The peaceful feeling Hermione always got as she trailed her finger along the spines, walking through the aisles.
Making her way to the library, which she wasn't actually sure where it was, Hermione took her time and looked over the house. Like before, she immediately noticed the exquisite detail of the decor. She recognized a woman's touch when she saw it. Astoria? Mrs. Zabini pre-death?
Daphne?
Hermione recalled what she had heard when she was brought before Voldemort. He didn't approve of triads. The Dark Lord had declined to allow Zabini to marry both sisters. Now he was only married to one. But they both lived here? At least, that's what she had gotten from her conversation with Blaise a few days prior.
She supposed it really wasn't her business.
Romance during a war... Must be nice.
But did they all? Together? At once?
They were sisters, though.
She knew triads used to be a normal thing in the wizarding world, Hermione couldn't recall if they ever included family members. Or were they specifically with family members? She cringed, knowing one thing for certain... that muggles certainly wouldn't see the pureblood ideals as proper, or even sane.
Hermione pursed her lips. She shouldn't be thinking of this. And it probably wasn't like that at all.
"It isn't."
"Merlin!" Hermione gasped, turning around to see an elegantly dressed Astoria Greengrass.
Donned in a floor length dress with an sheer overcoat secured with a pin, Astoria smirked, and looked her up and down. "Draco was right, you do think ever so loudly. Dirty things too, he didn't mention that part."
"I-I am so sorry, A-ast-Greengra-Mrs. Zab-"
"Astoria is fine, darling. We aren't too official here." She giggled. "Hermione?"
"Yes?" She stopped stuttering and stood up straight, feeling as though she was being inspected.
"You aren't, I'm just looking at you. Were you looking for something? The dining room, perhaps? Or, oh! The library, of course, you must come see it."
Hermione flushed at how accessible her thoughts were and tried harder to keep her walls up and mindful doors closed and locked. "Yes, please. I would love to see the library, Astoria."
"Right this way." The blonde swung her hand out, pointing down a marble hallway.
XXXX
Astoria showed Hermione to the library, giving her a tour as they went. Her heels echoed with each step she took, clicking down the hallways. Astoria had a shimmer in the air around her, and Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. Like an aura. She radiated joy, even in the midst of her circumstances.
Hermione wanted that. She used to be like that.
She just felt so empty now.
Hermione needed her purpose back. She needed a mission.
She needed to gather all intel she could as she waited for a chance to escape. Focus back on that. Get back in the game.
Back to fighting this war. This time, she would be fighting it from the inside. Yet again, she would be alone. From taking care of a silent Harry, to studying on her own to escape her captivity. Hermione could only depend on herself.
Hermione needed to start with building the strength within her mind. Perhaps the library held some books on the subject.
Astoria paused before the double doors before pushing them open and revealing a quaint room full of books. It was still larger than Hermione's home growing up, but compared to the entire estate, it was nothing.
Hermione smiled. Looking around, she didn't know where to begin. The moss green curtains that ran from ceiling to floor paired wonderfully with the dusty rose wallpaper and brown antique furniture. The shelves were a gorgeous, thick wood. Hermione felt almost at home.
"You may borrow anything." Astoria spoke up, watching Hermione bloom again. "We don't usually have houseguests, and this room doesn't get used as much as it should. I'm sure that you will quite enjoy your time spent here."
Hermione thanked her and walked up to a shelf. She turned her head back to look at Astoria. "What do you usually do all day?"
A pause.
"Oh!" Hermione spoke again. "I didn't mean it like that. I was just wondering."
Astoria laughed, actually laughed. "I know what you meant. I usually rest a lot, eat, practice chess and read some. Blaise finds me paperwork to occupy my time. I find the more I am out of sight of everyone, the more out of their mind I remain." She winked.
Hermione tried to figure out the organization system that Zabini used for his books. By author or subject or year... there were many ways to put together a library this wondrous. There were so many that she recognized and a few that she even owned herself before the war. Though Hermione doubted that Zabini would have the basic Guide to Occlumency, she would check for it, just in case. She figured that she should be keeping a conversation with Astoria, and though she didn't want to admit it, Hermione did enjoy the company.
She pulled two books off a shelf and studied them. Zabini organized by subject, definitely. "What do you like to read? In school did you... did you have a subject you liked best?" She turned to look at Blaise's wife, who had settled in a window seat with a blanket over her lap.
Astoria gave her a soft smile, though she looked tired now. Like the walk had exhausted her, and she was now forcing herself to stay alert. "Astronomy. And Runes, but mostly Astronomy. Though I like to read more fiction novels now, to keep my mind off reality. I find it helps with the Madness."
Hermione paused while flipping through the book.
The Madness? Astoria said it like it was a thing, not just the madness of it all. The war.
"Distraction from all the violence during this time can help, I agree." Hermione decided not to question Astoria straight forward, in case she clammed up.
Astoria was massaging her hands together, and then murmured something under her breath. "Accio lotion." A small bottle came flying through the air and she caught it, opening it and rubbing her hands together again, adding a dollop of the lotion to her palm. "Ugh, do you mind if I drop my glamour? I know, I know, it's ugly and we are supposed to be ignoring it until it goes away or whatever, but Moooorgana, my head aches at keeping it up."
Hermione shut the book loudly and approached Astoria's side, settling on honesty. "Astoria, I have no idea what you are talking about."
Again, Astoria laughed. "Oh, of course, silly me. I'm sorry, darling. I'm not in my right mind these days. I suppose I should speak with Blaise before spilling Death Eater secrets and all that but just between us girls..." She leaned forward, closer to Hermione and whispered like they were gossiping at a slumber party. Holding out her hands, palms down and perfectly manicured, Astoria released her glamour charm and her almost pearlescent skin changed before Hermione's eyes.
Hermione had seen it before, from a distance, on Daphne and Theo and Draco. But somehow, they didn't have it showing every time she saw them. She thought it was more like a tattoo.
No. This was under Astoria's skin.
Pitch black veins crawled from her fingers all the way up to under her shirt sleeves.
When Hermione reached to touch them and turn Astoria's arm, the woman gasped at the coolness of Hermione's hands.
The dark lightning streaks of magic moved with Astoria's arm as she turned it from side to side. It was a part of her. Hollowing her out.
"The Madness?" Hermione questioned, and Astoria giggled again.
"Or, technically," The younger Greengrass sister yawned. "Psychosis of the Dark Arts but Theo agrees with me, it's not that much fun to say."
"Is this a new condition? Who discovered it? Is there any cure?" Hermione felt her brain reeling. An entirely new ailment would have unlimited properties to consider, to discover. Causes, symptoms, treatments, cures. This was decisively more advanced than any of her previous studies. But the possibilities were endless.
She felt more alive in that moment than she had since she, Harry and Ron destroyed the first horcrux.
Bloody hell
The diadem was still missing.
Before Astoria could answer her, the library doors opened and in strutted Blaise himself. He looked around the room, eyes finding them huddled close together, his wife's unglamoured forearm in her muddied hands.
"Darling!" Astoria greeted, her smile wide, showing all of her teeth. Her red lipstick must be magically in place. "My dear, I was about to call on you. I was wondering." She kept giggling as she spoke, like she was getting caught in a secret.
Zabini came straight up to her, immediately waving his hand over her arms and glamouring them again. The black lines were gone in a moment, replaced by unblemished flesh. "It's time for lunch, my dear." He helped her stand, holding her hands with more delicacy than Hermione expected.
Blaise started to lead his wife from the room when he turned back and spoke to her calmly. "If you would like to join us in the small dining room, Granger, you may."
Hermione wanted to, as her stomach was growling, but she needed to reset her mental walls and think a few things through before she attempted to join in for a meal.
"May I take lunch in here?" She asked him. "I would love to keep looking around for a while."
Blaise inclined his head. "Certainly," He responded curtly.
Hermione released a long breath when the library doors closed behind the couple.
XXXX
It was past midnight when Hermione finally started to make her way back to her room with an armful of books to continue studying. She had taken lunch and dinner in the library, not feeling up to visiting with her captor and his family, needing to keep researching. Unfortunately, though, the time she spent in the books didn't help get her mind off of her current predicament. In fact, Hermione felt even more annoyed than before. Why was she attempting to learn how to protect her mind when she couldn't even protect her body from old classmates that wanted a leg up with their lord and savior, Voldemort?
Merlin, how would she ever manage to escape without her magic? Malfoy was the only one who could unmute her magic. Hermione would have to convince him to turn it back on before she left... but how would she manage that?
Perhaps...
No. It was preposterous to consider Voldemort's number one Official switching sides. Helping the Order. Helping her.
Hermione would just have to figure that out as well. Maybe there was something she could do that didn't require Malfoy. What sort of magic had he used to control her magic?
Had he done it before? To every witch captured? If that was the case, no wonder Malfoy had gotten so strong. The core of his magic was being used- strengthened- every single day.
Hermione paused before taking the first step of the staircase. Merlin, she was dumb. Of course Malfoy didn't lower himself to mute every witch or wizard's magic when they were brought in. That was part of the Keepers job, wasn't it? Hermione remembered through the haze overhearing a conversation the two women had about muting her magic. But after Pansy's torture, they couldn't risk hurting Hermione further by shutting off her magical core.
Slowly, Hermione began climbing the stairs, letting a hand trail the bannister while her other arm hugged the stack of books to her hip. Hermione felt almost... Like she was back at hogwarts- if only for a moment. Her thoughts and theories consumed her mind as she took the stairs, one by one.
The basics were, that if you were born with a dominant magical gene, you were a witch or wizard. Muggle-born or not, they were all the same. The strength of your magical core could be trained just like the body. The more advanced spellwork a person could do depended on multiple factors. Emotions were a big one. Dumbledore even said once that extreme despair could make a witch or wizard lose their magic on its own.
What Malfoy did to her was different. Hermione's magic didn't dim or fizzle out, it was like it had become encased in an indestructible tomb. Unable to be accessed. He'd gone through her mind, slowly and methodically turning off switches, closing doors to her magic.
Malfoy used Legilimency, and was quite proficient at it, if her experience was any indication.
Did he learn that on his own?
Was this all in her head?
Hermione scoffed at herself as she rounded the final corner to her room, at how far her theories had spun. But, when she caught sight of the door to her room, she stopped short.
Had she summoned him just by thinking of his name?
At least Malfoy sat outside her bedroom door and hadn't merely let himself in. He wasn't in his regalia, nor was he in his leather battle outfit. No, instead, Draco Malfoy wore black trousers and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the top with his sleeves rolled up. His arms were bare, but his hands were not.
Hermione didn't linger on the rings that decorated his fingers. She slowly approached him, admittedly nervous to find out what exactly he needed. She couldn't forget how easily he and Astoria seemed to read her mind. With every step she took closer to him, Hermione pictured closing doors and tall brick walls encasing her, protecting her mind.
"Malfoy," she greeted.
He stood from a bench in the hall, long legs unfolding. "Granger."
XXXX
Hermione shifted her books so that they were held in both hands now, staying a good distance away from the demon in front of her. She kept the walls in her mind firm, attempting to occluade. As they stood on opposite sides of the hall, Hermione couldn't help but think he had a devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other. He'd called her love, then practically helped her escape danger. Then the next moment, he was calling her a mudblood and killing innocents.
Where would he find balance?
Or was it up to Hermione to determine if he was the angel, the devil, or something in between?
"What do you want? You don't have another outfit for me again, do you?" Hermione frowned as she spoke, feeling tired. She didn't want to play his games.
Malfoy held his arm out, gesturing to her room. "Blaise informed me of your conversation with Astoria today. I didn't want to interrupt while you were in the library but... we have some things to discuss." He tilted his head toward the bedroom door when she refused to move.
Hermione slid her socks on the marble, debating. There was a possibility he would explain the Madness. Or... what if he was going to make her forget it? Hermione didn't know exactly how powerful Malfoy was now. Official Number One for the Dark Lord. How many terrible things had he done to get here?
Would he hesitate to do those things to her?
In the end, Hermione walked in front of him and opened her door, heading straight to the back of the room to drop her books on the nightstand and turn on a lamp. Malfoy beat her to it, lighting the room silently with the candles that were placed strategically. She let out an annoyed sigh.
"Alright Malfoy, you want to talk? Let's talk." Hermione flopped onto the bed, not even the chance of finding out more information was able to tone down her exhaustion. Her eyes were heavy, but she stayed alert to watch the evil lurking in the candlelight.
"Theo's right, you are sassy. What's the matter, Granger? Didn't you get to spend the day surrounded by books?" Malfoy leaned against the footboard, fingertips circling the wood.
"I don't have time to listen to your nonsense." Hermione mumbled, not giving him an answer.
He smirked. "Actually, I believe you have all the time in the world. No pressing matters to attend to, though, I digress." Making a fist, Malfoy began lightly knocking each silver ring on his hand against the footboard. "Tori wants you to know so that she doesn't have to keep her glamour up when you are around. Blaise will do anything his wife requests and I don't give a fuck. So I figure I should explain."
Hermione slowly sat up as he spoke, wrapping her arms around her knees. "About the Madness?" She questioned.
Malfoy's face scrunched up. "Merlin, I hate that fucking name they came up with. Theo and Tori thought they were so funny and it stuck with everyone. No. It's not the Madness. The correct term is Psychosis of the Dark Arts. But, yes, it does drive you mad."