Vacivitas

Chapter Two

Trigger warning: gore, body talk/mentions of metaphors that make it clear Hermione is on the thin side from malnutrition

Chapter Two

Not a word is spoken on the journey out of the prison Hermione's been held in for the last sixty-one days.

She's dragged limping by the shackles that are wrapped around her wrists, tugged down a set of stone stairs. These stairs lead to a wooden door which swings open to reveal grass and a starry night sky that doesn't hurt her eyes to view. She's not prepared for the gust of cold air that greets her as her feet touch soft blades of grass. The shock of it makes her forget about the state of her knees.

Almost.

She glances behind her, seeing the wall of a small castle that stretches up above her head. It's not more than a few stories high, signaling to her that the pit where she'd been kept was indeed located underground. There is nothing special about the castle and the grounds it sits upon. Miles of grassy hills stretch away from the castle's foundation in all directions.

Whose estate is this?

It's a blessed feeling, the softness of nature and the few moments of stolen freedom that she keeps while she's stared at.

He looms over her, her head barely reaching his shoulders. She has to tilt her chin upward to maintain his gaze. He's clad in a black shirt, black trousers that are tucked into his boots, and an open set of black robes that reach his calves. All that black contrasting with the starlight makes his hair appear opalescent. A soft breeze brushes past the area, caressing their skin and causing strands of his hair to fall in haphazard directions. Some shrouds his eyes, some stands on end. With a painful twist of her stomach, she realizes it looks like Harry's.

The links of the chain clink against each other as he takes a step toward her. In spite of who she is, she can't stop the way her heartbeat falters with fear.

Because it's Draco Malfoy who's got his hand wrapped around the heavy chain that reaches from her wrists. It's Draco Malfoy who's just purchased her with the intent of feeding on her blood. It's Draco Malfoy who's standing before her, a predator.

A vampire.

Like she's still the same girl with a thirst for knowledge that she used to be, she scrutinizes him. Studies him. He's not a vampire by choice, that much she knows. She doesn't have to know him well to know that he'd rather die than lose the right to call himself a Pureblood. She wonders how he feels about blood status now that his is as dirty as hers.

Why would he want to taste her?

Malfoy looks like he isn't sure what to do or say. Like the realization of what he's done is sinking in. He couldn't have planned this through if he wanted to. He hadn't even known it was her until they showed him her face.

His gaze falls to her shaking knees. As if on cue, the pain returns to overwhelm her and she collapses in the grass. He doesn't move, doesn't say anything, so she takes it upon herself to tell him what's wrong.

"I think my kneecaps are fractured." It feels bizarre hearing her voice carry in the open air. "When they pushed me and I hit the stone."

Malfoy gives her a terse nod and, before she can blink, there's a crack. For the second time, apparition assails her.

When she opens her eyes, she's on the bare ground just inside the iron gates of the Malfoy estate. She looks up at him, wondering if he's expecting her to walk down the path that runs between the two hedge mazes, or if he's going to help her. She doesn't expect him to help. It hasn't been that long since the day he had a chance to help her, when she was bleeding on the floor before him. When his aunt carved a shameful reminder into her arm.