Azael's Chains

New Order

Hermione hurt. That was the sensation that dragged her unwillingly from dreams that the back of her mind knew were somehow less horrifying than reality. Her head ached thunderously and her body was covered in patches where the pain was more acute than usual. The bubbling sting of burns along her forearm and thigh, the sharp pulse of cuts, the deep thrum of contusions...

She groaned as she sat up, eyes still closed as her mind slowly puzzled through what had happened before she woke. There was a bed under her, its sheets musty, but soft. It was not what she expected as the events before stupefaction slid into place, and she batted open oak-brown eyes.

The room was dark and it took a moment to realize the deep golden wallpaper was peeling and aged. It was a decently sized room, and she'd been on a four poster bed larger than those at Hogwarts. Along the walls were lighter patches where paintings and other decor had been removed, even larger swathes where she assumed there'd once been furniture. There was still an ancient vanity, a small table with a gramophone, and a harp missing most of its strings. Hermione turned as much as her neck would allow and saw a long couch with deep scarlet plush stained by things she did not want to know.

The rug on the floor had probably also once been lovely, intricate as the more vibrant patches were. She tested it under her unsteady feet, balancing with fingertips against a post until she could step of her own volition. She felt as though she'd been through Hell.

She had been, she realized, her own version anyway.

Hermione took a deep breath as Harry's body and Ron's limp form flashed through her mind. "No," she ordered. "Not right now. Later." First she had to figure out her situation.

So she wove through the room, aching feet hardly feeling the cold wooden floor. Every other step, she had to catch herself against the walls, but she followed the warm light until she came upon the sitting room.

The hearth was vast and solidified her belief that this was a wizarding home. It was perfect for Floo connection, wouldn't even need to magically increase in size for use. There was a couch and a few chairs, two high backed, circled around it. She could just make out the flame-bathed profile of a man as he stared into the fire before he turned his gaze on her and she stumbled again, barely catching herself on the corner.

"You're awake." What was she supposed to say to that? She didn't say anything at all. "Come sit. You must be cold." When she did not move, the large man sighed and flourished his wand in warning. She had not noticed it where it rested against the regal old chair. "Am I asking something so difficult? Or perhaps you are weak and would like assistance?"

Hermione took a breath and drew herself to her full height, pushing the pain and unsteadiness to the back of her mind in her strides to the chair on the other side of the hearth. It was significantly warmer, and the chair was admittedly comfortable as she settled onto the threadbare green and black velvet. She drew her legs up, curling in on herself, and watched from her peripherals.

"How are you feeling?" She'd have cursed him if she had her wand, but her throat was sore from her screams as the man looking at her had dragged her away from the last living being she had. So she stayed silent, unsure what would happen if she let anything out. "You must be in pain. I did not inspect your injuries other than to ensure none were lethal." She cupped her elbows, ignoring the full force of his attention. He sighed. "Miss Granger, I am speaking to you. I would appreciate responses. I do not need to be kind."

An inelegant snort huffed from her, but that was all.

"Very well." A shuffle of material and he was stalking toward her, his broad form blocking out the light. He slowly lowered face-to-face with her and she attempted to keep her eyes unfocused. It was more difficult when his own grey eyes were boring into her. He dropped something into her lap, then dropped his hands on the arms, effectively caging her in. "That's a healing potion. Drink it." The dark wood of his wand tapped beside her. The threat was implied, but she knew it was here.