Choice's Curse {d.m.}

False Betrayal

a/n: this chapter is like almost 400 words more than i usually write because i tested positive for covid so i get to stay home and quarantine for like another week which sucks but it means i have more time to write! hope you guys enjoy<3

Time seemed to trickle by in painstakingly slow increments as I sat in the Malfoys' cellar with nothing to do but sort through my thoughts. I had sat in the corner of the room furthest away from the door once Draco had left, and I hadn't moved since.

My arm pulsed painfully as the rip in my skin from being splinched tried to heal itself. It had stopped bleeding, which was a very small positive in all of the negative that was going on. I'd developed a lovely headache from Bellatrix's hex, and my arm felt heavier and weaker than usual. I debated using a bit of my shirt to wrap my arm with, but in all honesty, I'd rather have an open wound that be partial shirtless in front of Voldemort.

Call me crazy.

I was, quite frankly, warring a bit within myself. The way I saw it, I really had two choices: I could fight, and likely die before I did any real harm to anyone besides myself, or I could completely give up and definitely die, but it would likely be a quicker end.

The coward in me was screaming to not put up a fight, to focus on self-preservation and not worry about anyone else. That did seem like the easiest option, though I hated to admit it. This wasn't my fight; or, at least, it hadn't been until I stuck my nose in places it didn't belong, as Draco liked to tell me.

I hated that Draco had been right. I had been so cocky, had tried to be so brave, but I'd really just fooled myself into thinking I was important enough or strong enough or powerful enough to even make a fucking difference.

But...fuck. I sighed, pushing my hair out of my face. It was my fight, wasn't it? At least partially. I was one of the people Voldemort and his band of devoted followers loathed the most. Shouldn't that make me want to do whatever I could to help defeat him?

I let out a sorrowful laugh at that. I felt so fucking ridiculous, thinking things like that. I was a child, and here I was, thinking about things like war and defeating some evil wizard that hated me purely because of who my parents were. Though I'd known I was a witch for nearly six years, there were still times where everything felt...unreal. Strange. Pureblood politics was one of those things. It had never made sense to me why those with two magical parents so often assumed they were so much better than everyone else. From what I'd seen, the students with two magical parents weren't better or smarter overall than the rest of us.

I wondered if anyone had noticed I was gone. I wasn't entirely sure how much time had passed, but it had to be at least close to curfew, if not curfew already. Surely, Cho and Luna would notice when I didn't come to bed, right?

Even if they did, though, what did that mean? My salvation? Not bloody likely. I was smart enough to realize I wasn't getting out of here unless, shit, unless nothing, really. Unless Voldemort decided to have a massive change of heart and simply let me go.

I shook my head. What stupid line of thinking that was. Then it occured to me: it was likely that Snape had gone back to Hogwarts and likely covered up the fact that I was gone, so as to not raise suspicion. He'd probably tell everyone I was serving bloody detention so they wouldn't be worried when I didn't come to bed before my roommates fell asleep.

So, I wasn't getting out of here. My next option was to think about what valuable information I had, right? Maybe there was something I could use for leverage.