A/N: Written for the Hogwarts Forum's March-Monthly-Event-Wicked-Bake-athon. The Prompt for this one is Lavender Rose
Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the library of the Manor she was prisoner in, This parlour was uncomfortably similar to the one Bellatrix had tortured her in barely a year ago, and she kept having to ground herself to prevent herself from losing herself in her memories.
The persistent threat of Bellatrix at the door of the library always kept her wary, the older witch cackling now and then. Her hygiene had cleaned up slightly better since her first day here, and to be fair, Hermione's hygiene did as well. She now had access to a full ensuite bathroom which even had an inground bathtub with more taps on it than the prefect bathroom at Hogwarts. A book of hygiene charms were placed on the nightstand, and after the first few days of her transfiguring a toothbrush with wandless magic so she could brush her teeth, the real Muggle thing appeared in her bathroom a few days later.
That meant that someone was not only watching her, but also going through her things.
Her purple beaded bag was gone, and with it any wand she might have had on her person. And the first time Bellatrix had led her into the library, she hadn't been given direction nor told what to do. She was merely warned off from the second floor, where tomes that would harm those with her lineage were stored.
So she wandered. She wandered, and she read, and she familiarized herself with the library and how it was sorted. Thankfully, the books were all sorted by subject, and surprisingly, the library was large enough to have a magical card catalogue like the Hogwarts library. If she wasn't being held prisoner by people who vowed to kill people like her, Hermione could admit to being in heaven.
She missed her Muggle clothing, however. Her jeans, her Weasley Jumper, her trainers...they all went missing after the first night she wore a supplied nightgown. The wardrobe was merely filled with dress robes and daily witch robes, some in the most outlandish of colors, meant to sparkle on a dance floor, others in more muted colors for everyday events. She was required to wear one of these everyday robes whenever she was summoned for a mealtime, which hadn't been often. Otherwise, she was wonderfully able to take her meals in her room.
Bellatrix had been very clear the first time Voldemort had requested Hermione dine with them. Don't speak unless spoken to, sample everything offered unless allergic, and always be polite, even if you despise the people sitting next to you.
"In the House of Black, you'll always hate someone in the family. Here in the ranks of the Dark Lord, sometimes you have to rub shoulders with your enemies to get out ahead," Bellatrix whispered conspiratorially. Her first time dining with her captors, Hermione had chosen a set of lavender robes that had a shimmering effect the color of rose in the fabric. Looking closer, the shimmering was caused by embroidery thread sewn in the shapes of runes. Protection, cleanliness, fireproof, tearproof...this wardrobe must have belonged to someone else, once upon a time.
During dinner she had burned with the need to ask questions, about her wardrobe, about her capture, everything… But she felt her throat close up when Voldemort complimented her on her robes choice.
"We had everything specially made for you. I hope you enjoy the selection," he had softly said. Hermione barely managed to hoarsely reply before her confusion choked her up.
"The clothes are all wonderful!"
She left the dinner more confused than when she had arrived, and as Bellatrix left her to her own devices for the night, Hermione's mind went into overdrive. With a full belly, and a clean soft bed, she stayed up nearly the whole night with what-ifs plaguing her.
"Why would they want to protect me?"