𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 4

Lovesbitca8 TAKES CREDIT THIS IS HER WORK - FOUND ON AO3

On a day she assumed was Thursday, they showered them again. She was taken first, alone. Dolohov watched her undress again, watched her under the spray. He scourgified her clothing and handed each item back to her, one at a time. Starting with her knickers.

He smiled and ran his fingers across the cotton as she stood in front of him, dripping in her towel.

"Cherish these moments, Mudblood," he said. "You won't need little knickers any longer after tomorrow."

She gave him no reaction. Unable to speak, she concentrated on becoming expressionless. She tugged the knickers on under the towel, and struggled the rest of the clothing on her still wet body.

When they returned her and took five girls, then five more, none of them complained about the lack of privacy in the showers. So, she assumed it was a special circumstance for her.

Word got around among the girls that the Auction would take place that Friday night. Enough whispers had been overheard to take a solid guess. Ginny began to pace around the room, trying to figure out as many details as she could. Hermione sat in the corner with Luna while the blonde played with her hair, braiding it and unbraiding it absentmindedly.

"Should we try again to attack?" Ginny asked the room. "We don't have magic, but we have numbers. Instead of five against two, we could be fifty against a handful."

There was a thick silence, and someone said, "After what happened... with Parvati and Lydia... I just—"

"I'd be more afraid of living than dying, if I were you," Pansy said, staring at her nails.

"Are you volunteering with me, Parkinson?" Ginny asked.

Pansy smirked. "I don't volunteer."

Ginny looked over at her. "Hermione? What do you think? They haven't upped the number of guards. It's still just Dolohov and at least one more. The next time they come into the room, we could... I don't know." Ginny let her arms drop to her side.

Ginny stared at her, hopeful, excited. Hermione stared back.

Ginny had private showers for five days now. She hadn't watched Lydia Baxter bleed to death in front of her. She hadn't listened to Luna's screaming. She hadn't felt the heat of Dolohov's hand between her legs, hadn't felt his foul breath as he talked in slow whispers about what he wanted to do to her body.

Ginny had a voice.

And it was brilliant that she still wanted to use it. Truly. But Hermione was already having trouble making eye contact with people. And she knew enough about shock, and submission, and torture to know that she was not in the right state of mind to discuss this right now. That people would die, and it would live on Hermione's soul like a fungus.

Ginny was waiting for an answer. The entire room was.

Hermione still had no voice. Instead, she shrugged.

Then, watched Ginny blink at her. Watched several of the younger girls look away, eyes wet. Watched Pansy's eyes narrow and Penelope Clearwater's gaze drop.

Luna took her hand, laced their fingers together and hummed a small song.

"Nothing?" Ginny scowled. "Just"—she shrugged, an imitation of her—"Just nothing?" She laughed, a hollow sound. "Merlin, Hermione! Think! Give an opinion! Isn't that what you're good at?"

Ginny's eyes were wide and on fire. Several girls shifted and stared with rapt attention.

"Ginny—" Cho started.