Reality bites... and doesn't let go. ~Author Unknown
In order to be fair, maybe it's time to pass the ball to another consciousness that had a huge part in all that fuss – the girl herself…
Needless to say, waking up somewhere strange wasn't that high on her list of her problems, since up until yesterday she had been opening her eyes in a cell rather than an obviously well-furnished, if a little snobbish, room.
The change of surroundings didn't encourage her much though. After all, she had no voice, everything hurt and she was still dirty and bloody, although clearly someone had looked her over. She was all alone. Realization that stuck her harshly – it was easier to play brave when surrounded with people even more scared then you, entirely different matter when alone I a big manor, if the quietness was right.
She wondered, if hallucinating was a possibility and some of her mates had drugged her and she was still in la-la land – well, considerably way more terrifying la-la land, but it could be a nightmare. After all, you rarely end up somewhere else in time and in a book none the less…
The first two nights she had managed to fall asleep wishing that she would wake up from tall this madness… Following the beatings and pain at the cells, she was almost hundred percent sure it was frighteningly real. The blue prints of viciousness on her skin were proof enough every time she saw a glimpse of her body from the tearing in the rags that had once upon a time been her favorite clothes.
Having nothing else to loose, since she had been given as a present to a certain Death Eater, she rose to face the music.
She sat up slowly, seeing if something really hurt – besides the blinding ache that her body excluded in a pulsating rhythm. No house elf appeared and she wasn't sure to be relieved or disappointed – what was she going to do, sign speak to them? And the creatures were loyal to their master, whoever he really was.
True, he was supposed to be a spy, but old Voldie was surely going to find a way to check his progress with her at some point. Also, she was not completely sure her melted brain had not made up the memory on its own. Hope was a frightening thing, when it is the last thing you have in your arsenal.
So searching around, looking through draws and shelves, and even a cupboard or two, she realized that A) everything was clean, not a speck of dust anywhere and B) there was nothing useful around… not even a baseball bat. That until she didn't reach a more homely furnished room with a big merry fireplace. By that time she was already swaying on her feet, so you should excuse her when she didn't really notice anything at first.
The couch she had let her body rest in, was soft and wide enough to lie down comfortably, there was a small table with a bottle of alcohol on and several books pilled over one another. She also admired the ornamented blade that hung on the wall, a hunting knife in her opinion, which wasn't all that important since she only barely knew weapons. That's when it actually reached her mind. It was a blade!
Scrambling, she shoved the chair and climbed fast, breathing heavily after the exercise, and snatched the knife greedily. Hooray for the girl that didn't feel so defenseless now!
She didn't give herself time to think or grieve, but braved the tiredness with some classic stubbornness and slowly explored the place, mapping all the possible places she could hide in. It was definitely better then wondering or sulking in a corner, though after all in a corner find herself she did. In the end it was the whooshing sound of the fireplace that alerted her someone – whoever he was, was back.
So she crept forward as silently as she could (not much, actually) and stuck to the fading shadows – after all, a new day was approaching. Like closure of a chapter, the dawn was bringing the next pages with its gentle caress of sun rays sliding over the world, softer than a lover's touch. The figure that was revealed, when she snuck into the room was tall with broad shoulders and thin waist, black robes outlining the body, making him more formidable.
The figure stalked for a closed buffet and did what sounded like pouring him a glass. Our warrior, being quite cynical regarding her own life and sanity, took the risk of getting closer, the ornamented blade held steadily in her hand and close to her body, muscles trembling with exhaustion but coiled to strike, if deemed necessary.
There is a saying about a noisy cat with curious intentions, isn't there?
The moment she was no more than a foot away he twisted lightning fast and nailed her to the wall, his left hand tightly around her neck, squeezing slowly. Struggling in panic, she brought down the knife, aiming for whatever it reached. His right hand, which should have been clutching a wand, wrapped around her grip on the weapon without much hardship, but instead of forcing it away the man brought it close to his throat and hissed:
- You want to kill me! Maybe then you'll do us both a favor!
He heart was beating loudly in her ears, all that blood rushing in her veins with a thunder and yet time seemed to stop, when she got a look at those bottomless pools of onyx he possessed for eyes. She didn't think any eyes could be that black. But hey, magic was real. Then the world got itself back on track, as the handle of the blade almost burned through her skin and she released her grip immediately, with a shriek that didn't produce a sound from her missing vocal cords anyway.
He curled his lips in a cruel and bitter sneer, hauling her even closer before hurling on the side. The young woman crumbled heavily on the floor, with a hiss of pain and not enough breath for a scream, even a soundless one. He stalked away with loud angry steps, fading into the disappearing shadows, leaving his unwanted guest petrified and desperate.
... ^_^...
She didn't expect to wake up the next morning although her battered body brought her back to the harshness of this highly unbelievable scenario. Didn't such horrors happen only to people on the news or the bloody heroes in books and movies? These things didn't happen to normal… close to normal, individuals and it certainly didn't involve predetermined time travel. Usually.
She barely crawled out of her hiding place, a cupboard in the end of one of the long corridors she had chosen, because it gave the impression of abandonment and the chance of Snape finding her were... well not slim, per see, but less than any other part of the manor. If she wasn't still so dizzy and hurting, she might have tried to squeak in surprise, seeing the tray with some water juice and food laid in front of her on a small tiny table that definably had not been there before.
There is a line beyond which one cannot be bothered with surprise anymore and she had reached it somewhere the last days of her capture with the Death Eaters and the fortune of being pinned to a wall by Severus Snape. So after a few seconds in stillness of indecision she pulled the tray closer.