She knows now that she has lost her mind. She knows because she is looking at Draco Malfoy like he is her only ally in the world, like he he knows her, like he is her last fucking hope, and like he is all she has left. Truth be told, her mind started to disintegrate when Voldemort rose to power and her friends started disappearing and she had to pretend she was nobody at all. She probably lost it years ago, when she had to remind herself everyday that no, this was not a dream, and pull it the fuck together because now is not the time to be wondering if you still want to be alive or not. She has had her dark thoughts, her acceptance of the futility of this world… yet somehow, she's got these instincts that tell her how to survive. It does not matter. Now, her eyes are locked on his and she is forgetting herself, her life. She is confused, see. He disgusts her, of course. He was hateful; he was weak and vengeful. But he was a boy back then, and maybe she is wrong, but wasn't he confused? She had seen pompous, she had seen intelligence, she had seen cruelty, all in him. In the later years, her mind had even whispered 'death eater', and it had terrified her then. That was nothing compared to now. Now she is looking into his wolfish eyes and thinking "merlin, they are beautiful" but by god, they are so fucking cold, so detached. She feels her gut sink; he will not save her tonight. She knows this. She knows so many things; she's Hermione Granger. She knows so many fucking things. It's a shame, she tells her frantic mind. Did she think he would? She can't remember now. She has lost herself again… She had been dropped on the ground. Forced up, to her knees. Her mind was confused; she'd been tortured many times by wand, and many times by hand. Her mind still registered that shock of blond hair. Those eyes, that nose, those lips. His. Him walking in, and her instinct had been to get to your goddamn feet. Nobody deserved to see her on her knees, but he… he evoked a ferocity in her. She'd wanted it, so bad, to get up and lift her chin. She couldn't. So she'd kneeled before him, her eyes probably leaking, the fuck if she knew. She couldn't read his face, didn't know if he knew who she was. She looked different now. She was a slip of a person, had to forage for food. Her face was sharp now, eyes huge. For as hungry as she always was, her breasts and hips had filled out enough to be noticed. Not by the usual standard, of course not. She was starving, and wasn't she dying too? It was still a curse. It was a fucking curse. Mudbloods with any sliver of attractiveness received attention. Not the good sort. She blocked all that shit from her mind. That wasn't worth her time, that was the stuff to make her fall into the dark for days. It had taken her some time, but she could get past that. She wouldn't think about that, fuck them. He barely looked at her. It made her angry. He was speaking to whoever had brought her in. She tried to string the words together, really, she tried. Her head was a little cloudy. Maybe a lot. Focus, she whispered to herself. All she could focus on was that blond hair, that tall frame, that face. I know you, please. Please. She bit that down. Hated herself. "Hermione Granger. Is she still important?" His eyes flicked back to her at his companion's words. She couldn't hold his gaze. Not like this. She could feel his dismissal before she heard it. He was like that; when his eyes left you, it was like you didn't exist. Worthless. "No. Do whatever with her."