Vacivitas

Chapter Eight

Trigger warnings: strangling, blood

Chapter Eight

Hermione wakes well-rested for the first time since before the war. The sunlight filters through the panes of her bedroom window, slicing through grey clouds that hang heavy with future rain. Even if it does rain, nothing can temper her excitement. Not when she's so sure everything's going to work out the way she wants it to.

She sits at the small table beside her window, eating the breakfast that Pinky brings her. It's the same thing she always requests but today, it tastes better. It's like her tastebuds have opened, blooming like flowers to finally accept something that makes her feel some modicum of happiness. When she looks out the window, the green that seemed so somber yesterday doesn't look all that somber anymore. She wonders if Malfoy would allow her and her friends to go outside to enjoy the grounds when the weather is amenable. Being cooped up inside has been bearable for her by herself, but she isn't sure what sorts of things Tillian and Faye find interesting. They might not like reading for hours like she does. Not everyone has the thirst for knowledge that Hermione possesses.

After breakfast, she heads downstairs to go to the library. She has no specific genre that she wants to read in mind for the day, but she finds that she's having a hard time focusing either way. She manages only a few sentences before her mind wanders into daydreams, thinking about how wonderful it's going to be when her friends arrive.

She's confident that Malfoy will say yes. He's cold but it's clear by his behavior that he's not cruel. At least not when it comes to her situation. And she isn't sure how much he paid to get her out of the pit, to purchase her and bring her home, but she does know that money is no object for him. It should be simple for him to go to Zabini's estate, select her friends, pay, and bring them home.

Home. It feels weird thinking of Malfoy Manor that way, but it is her home now. He's not going to let her escape and frankly, from what little he's hinted at regarding the world outside, she isn't sure she wants to. Before the pit, there was only panic. Hiding, running, and panicking. She doesn't want to go back to that. Not when she's got everything she needs here. It's not like she's had to interact with Malfoy much since she's arrived. The only time she sees him each day is for dinner, and that's not even a hard and fast rule. He never told her she had to eat with him—she's chosen to do that. Whether from the loneliness of having the manor to herself all day or from the desire to keep an eye on his plans for her, she isn't sure.

Because she knows she needs to be wary of that—him changing his mind. It doesn't matter if he values promises or deals. He could wake one day and decide he's tired of her being in the house. He could kill her and move onto the next.

When her plate is clean, she sets her fork down, rests her elbow on the table, and watches the sky with her chin in her hand. Thinking back to the night before, to all the things he said and did, she knows that no matter how safe she may feel in the manor, she's never going to be completely safe. It doesn't matter what Voldemort's world looks like when there's a monster inside here with her.

She reaches down to rub her knee. Though she was hoping it would be fully healed by now because of the Dittany and Skele-Gro, it's aching today. That ache, coupled with the bruises forming on her shoulder blades from when Malfoy slammed her against the wall, keeps her hyper-aware of the pain her body's in. It's annoying but she knows it's nothing compared to the daily pain of rotting away in that pit.

Hermione gets dressed after a while, choosing a simple set of dress robes. She takes her time going to the library, once again inspecting the décor. Looking at it through new, happier, more hopeful eyes shows her the dark beauty of the manor. The ceilings are so high that she has to crane her neck backward just to see the chandelier that hangs from it. She admires the way the sunlight from the windows reflects through the crystals, casting beams of light across the stairs and the entryway.