Captured

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Unsolved

Hermione's days had become so similar to her first days here, yet so much had changed in the months she had been kept in this room.

She spent her days wandering the room again - counting the rows in the hedge maze, tracing the wallpaper, counting the floorboards. Sometimes she'd wander into the closet and trace the letters carved there, or she'd pull up the loose floorboard to look through the photos and notes from a younger Draco, mostly though, she turned everything she had experienced and learned over the past few months over and over in her head.

With nothing but time, her mind ran overdrive, stumbling through her overgrown and messy thoughts like someone lost in the Forbidden Forest.

Harry and Ron still hadn't come for her, but she knew that she would know if something had happened to them. Which meant that they were still out there, searching, still adhering to her last request of them. She couldn't help but let her mind wander for small bits of time when she thought about her best friends. She wondered where they were, imagining them traipsing through some indistinct forest as they searched for horcruxes. She wondered if they'd had any contact with any other Order members, though knew it was doubtful as it was unlikely they would have been able to find a way to speak with anyone without compromising their positions.

Godric, she missed them.

They hadn't spent this much time apart since she was eleven, before she had ever laid eyes on the Hogwarts Express. But even in the short two months before they were close in their first year, they still ate together, attended classes together, and spent their free time near each other. She had begun so accustomed to their presence that when she let herself dwell on how long they'd be separated, with no idea how soon they'd be reunited, it felt as though she were missing an integral part of herself. Because of this, she tried to avoid thinking of the two of them for too long. Too much time spent musing on Harry and Ron led her to feel as though her chest were filling with lead and her throat constricting. The worry and fear for their safety at the lack of information regarding their well-being was enough to drive her mad, and she knew that if she let herself dive too far into that worry, she would become a mess.

And she had to focus on what was happening here. There were too many people who would love nothing more than to see her bleeding on the floor, for her to allow herself to be anything less than on guard.

So, with thoughts of her best friends off limits, she focused mainly on the manor, the blonde Slytherin within it, and everything that had happened in the five months since she had been dragged here.

Five months. It somehow felt as though the time she had been there was both infinitely longer than five months, and also much, much shorter.

Only five months earlier, if anyone had discussed Draco Malfoy, she would have called him a prejudiced, cruel, spoiled little prat. Then again, five months ago, he still kind of was.

He had changed, however, in the months since she had been here. And though it felt too monumental to take responsibility for that big of a change in someone else's life, she knew she had been a large part of it.

Now... Now he was different. He was vulnerable and open with her. She couldn't remember the last time he had used the word 'mudblood,' and though the lack of using a slur was by no means award-worthy, for him it was incredible progress. It meant that he finally felt the weight behind it, and actively chose to change. To be better. To try. It meant that he was finally seeing the lies he had been fed for what they were and understood the harm even simple words could have.

There was so much more to Draco Malfoy than almost anyone knew, and the smallest kernel of pride nestled in the back of her mind at the fact that she, of all people, was one of the few who was allowed to see some of it. The only one, possibly, to see it, considering he still had to keep up pretenses with the other Death Eaters for the time being. The only one to see what was behind that mask he wore, the only one who got to see the parts of him that weren't cruel or calculating. Because the cruel and calculating Draco he presented wasn't who he was. Not really. Not anymore. Draco had such capability for empathy and understanding, if he would just nurture that part of himself. Unbidden, images formed in her mind of the two of them, after the war. Images of the pair of them with her friends, while he was smiling and laughing. The pure, joyous laughter that she had seen come out of him when he had successfully cast the patronus was there on his face in her mind. Images of him, Harry, and Ron intensely discussing quidditch, while she watched on with pride seeing every prejudice he had worked to undo. She shook them off, shocked at herself. They were far from that. Even if they made it through the war, she had no idea if he was even interested in pursuing... whatever this was, between them. Was this just a comfort in the midst of war? Was her role in his life simply to help him grow and learn, only to separate once the war was finally over and done?