Captured

Chapter Ten: Uncertainty

Hermione slept longer and better than she had probably since July, since the night before Bill and Fleur's wedding. Even in Grimmauld Place when they had familiar beds to sleep in and relative safety, she found herself researching and planning late into the night, or waking early to wander the dark halls and ponder all of the history within those malicious walls.

She slept all night, well into the next day, and didn't wake until she heard a reproachful Bipsy tsking to break the silence.

"Miss has not even eaten her food from the night before."

Hermione blinked slowly, squinting as she struggled to clear the sleepy fog from her brain and make sense of where she was. She couldn't understand at first, unable to reconcile the irresponsibly comfortable bed she was in with the surroundings she had come to associate with discomfort.

She flicked her eyes to the small figure standing by the chair, currently wagging a finger at her in admonition. Hermione was suddenly reminded of Molly Weasley and a surge of affection blossomed in her chest for Bipsy. She forced herself to sit up, stifling a yawn with her hand as she did. She glanced over to the window and realized it was already dark outside.

"What time is it, Bipsy?"

She glanced back at the elf, who had picked up the basket with the wasted food from the night before and was placing the fresh basket on the chair.

"It is eight o' clock, Miss. You has been sleeping all day."

Hermione blinked again, forcing herself to come fully into the waking world. She begrudgingly pushed the warm covers off of her so she could swing her legs over the edge of the bed and stand, stretching. She shivered slightly as she walked to the chair, and she hadn't realized how accustomed to the chill she had become over the previous weeks without anything to warm her. She was still wearing the same clothes she had been when she arrived, but had long since discarded her zip-up hoodie as a lost cause. Maybe if she had been able to clean it, it would have been fine, but after being coated in mud, it had dried stiffly and uncomfortably. All she had was a thin cotton t-shirt and jeans - better than nothing, but not exactly ideal for warmth.

Bipsy's eyes narrowed, missing nothing it seemed, as she saw Hermione's slight trembling from the chill. She looked like she was going to say something, but Hermione cut her off before she began.

"I'm fine, Bipsy. I've managed this long in the chill, I'll be okay." She gave her a warm smile, hoping that all of the appreciation she had for the elf in front of her was conveyed in her expression as she continued softly, "You do too much for me as it is."

"But Bipsy likes doing things for Hermione Granger. Miss is thankful and always treats Bipsy with kindness."

Hermione's heart ached for the little figure in front of her, whose large blue eyes were filled with such sincerity that she could break.

"You deserve kindness, Bipsy, and thanks for the things you do. From everyone."

Bipsy shook her head slightly, "Bipsy knows that Miss thinks so, but this is not the way elves is supposed to be treated, Miss."

Hermione sighed, dejectedly, recognizing the same attitude she'd come across many times before with the house-elves in the kitchens at Hogwarts. She knew she wasn't their favorite person, particularly after the last time she had visited the kitchens and been ushered out in the politest dismissal she had ever seen. She kneeled in front of Bipsy, so that they were the same height, and said softly, "But it is how you are supposed to be treated. How you should be treated. You deserve to be treated with the same respect as any witch or wizard. Just because house-elves have always been treated poorly doesn't mean it's right."