Captured

Chapter Five: Waiting

Hermione woke feeling as though she had been run over by the Knight Bus. She let out a groan of pain as she uncurled herself from the balled position she had slept in, hissing as her tender side pushed into the hard floor. She sat slowly, and her fingers began gently exploring the side that had slammed into the ground the previous day. It didn't feel like anything was broken, but as she lifted her shirt and jacket, she winced at the large purple and blue bruise that was blossoming along the length of her torso like a perverse flower. She was sure it looked worse in the warped shadows afforded by what little moonlight made its way through the clouds to cast a soft white glow on her injured skin. She touched her face next and she was greeted with a coating of dried mud that still lingered there, making for an uncomfortable sensation over the cut and battered cheek below it. Her hair, and any bit of free skin on the left side of her body was in about the same state and she longed for her wand or a shower, trying not to think of how long it may be before she was allowed either.

She took the opportunity then to glance around the room, and found she had a window overlooking the manor grounds. A massive sea of green greeted her and as she stood gingerly to get a closer look, she noticed it was a hedge maze. One that was seemingly impossible to navigate without intimate knowledge of its paths. Bile rose in her throat as the memory of the last time she saw a maze of this size swam to the surface. Images of Cedric's dead body lying on the grass below a sobbing Harry flashed through her mind and she quickly turned away from the window, not wanting to look upon the maze longer than necessary. Her eyes roamed the rest of her prison cell then, and she realized it wasn't a cell at all, but a converted bedroom. She could see markings on the wooden floor from where a queen-size four poster had previously stood, as well as markings indicating a desk and dresser previously sat on opposite sides of the room. A part of her wondered whose bedroom this had been, or if it had been anyone's at all.

Had they cleared it out years ago? Or had they stripped the room specially for her?

The thin layer of dust coating the floors and walls, with the exception of where she could see the shapes of the various items of furniture, indicated it was likely the latter.

Not that she would have preferred an actual prison cell, but a distant part of her mind remembered a time at school when Malfoy couldn't stop bragging about the dungeon in his home, and she couldn't help but question why she was being kept in an actual room instead of a cold and musty dungeon.

Knowing she would likely get no answers, she tucked that detail away in the back of her mind and began exploring the room for any sort of weakness that she could exploit, or at the very least something to make her days here easier. A shiver ran through her and she suddenly wished for the warmth of the Weasleys' tent. She hadn't been grateful enough when she had it.

She walked around the room slowly, starting at the window. She avoided glancing out at the grounds, keeping her eyes on the moonlit window sill as she pushed at the edges, trying to see if the glass would budge at all. It refused to open, and she suspected they had ensured that this would stay closed before throwing her in here. If she were keeping a prisoner, it was one of the more obvious first steps she'd take as well to ensure someone couldn't escape. She moved on from the window, dragging her fingers along the deep green wallpaper until her fingers glided over the edge of a door. She opened it carefully and peeked in, blinking in the darkness within to find a closet that was deeper than any closet she had at her home before... She shook that thought away and took a step inside. She snorted softly as she realized that this was probably considered small to the Malfoys.

She kept her hand dragging along the wall, using it to guide her way in the dark, until she reached a corner and stumbled over something soft. She hesitated before reaching down to touch a thin comforter that had likely been forgotten when they prepared this place for her. She wrapped it around herself tightly immediately, trying to ignore the musty smell and sat down in the corner of the closet. Her shivering eased as the smaller space and blanket began to warm her up and she settled in to wait for whatever was going to come next. She kept her eyes trained on the closet door which was slightly ajar, and waited.