Easily a week went by while they where setting up the fence outside. Hermione was so glad the work was near completion. She was tired of hauling heavy iron rods through untamed grass patches. She also failed to see how all this would serve much purpose, but than again it was as pointless as anything else, she figured.
A tall black iron fence made the place look more inhospitable, though Rose didn't seem concerned with losing future customers. The place had to become a landmine for anyone with bad intentions, she latter explained to Hermione as they strolled around the property. Madame Rose would occasionally stop to tap her wand on a cold iron rod and inaudibly whisper some unfamiliar incantation. Protective charms, Hermione presumed. She figured Rose must be paranoid after the visitation of those two Death Eaters, and she couldn't really blame her knowing what they where capable of.
Hermione ate a late supper with Rose and the doctor that evening. By now she felt fairly comfortable around Rose, but she still knew hardly anything about that man. He hardly spoke unless asked a question directly and even then his answers where brief and uninvolved.
Tonight even Rose was uncharacteristically quiet and the pervasive, lingering silence was quite unnerving. Pansy who was absent tonight would probably hum or fiddle with the cutlery. Hermione never though she'd actually miss the annoying noises she makes, but they'd certainly help the situation. When she finished eating Hermione was relieved to finally put down her fork and excuse herself for the night.
"Wait dear." Rose called her from the kitchen before appearing on the doorway with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. "Would you take this to your friend? She has to eat something."
"Sure." Hermione said going for the stairs before Rose reached out to grab her forearm.
"Don't drink it yourself now!" Rose warned her oddly enough.
"I wasn't going to." Hermione responded, wondering why Rose even cared. She hadn't spoken much to Pansy at all, not that anyone has. Most days she never left the room, which was probably her strategy for avoiding work. Pansy never did anything useful since they arrived here, Hermione just realized. Perhaps she finally became the parasite she always aspired to be, Hermione smiled thinking as she opened the door to their room. And sure enough there was Pansy, wrapped in her bed-sheet like some sort of a pale cocoon, probably in and out of sleep and half-conscious.
Hermione wanted to say something, just to check if she's still breathing, but then again "out of it" was certainly the state you'd want to keep her, Hermione thought, otherwise she could be pulled into another pointless squabble.
When Pansy finally awoke out of her endless and broken sleep she rolled over to find a cup of tea and biscuits waiting on the nightstand. She never questioned how they got there, she just made short work of both and stood up looking round the room suddenly feeling caged, sort of by her own volition, in this attic room. Her thoughts could amuse her only a certain number of hours. Bad memories came uninvited and she hadn't a wide selection of good ones, no new ones in particular.
Pansy had a bath and changed clothes before she ventured downstairs, this time leaving her wooden crutches in the corner of the room. She still had to be mindful of her step, but felt much more confident on her foot.
When she reached outside the sun was blinding to her eyes that grew accustomed to dim lighting. It was harsh to gaze around, but different from the mild and lingering unpleasantness of the attic, so she decided to stay a while, squinting and limping as she roamed where nearby Hermione toiled uprooting the stubborn weeds from the ground.
Hermione soon noticed the unwelcome presence. She paused to see her roommate squat down and pick up a caterpillar on the tip of her finger. Pansy then carried it out to the fence and with nothing better to do she tossed it between the bars, supposedly back into the wild. Did she imagine she was saving the poor thing? Hermione wondered. By her estimation it was a waste of time, but it turned out even worse. The caterpillar fizzled against the magical barrier and fell scorched on the grass.
"What…!? Who put that up?!" Pansy snapped, rushing over to Hermione. "Tell me now!?" She intended on yelling, but it came out more like a whimper. Though her voice was weak and pale, her frustration was obvious.
"How could I know what you intended to do with it?!" Hermione snapped back much louder then intended. She gulped realizing that it somehow slipped past her mind to mention the barrier.
Pansy stood furiously demanding something which remained unspoken, so Hermione beckoned to do something stuck her hand out to feel nothing more than a slight tingle on her skin. "Huh…" She scratched her head. "I wonder what this charm is for anyway. Warding off insects?" She thought aloud only to notice that no one was listening. Pansy was already fumbling back to the front door. "Yea, go back to… whatever is it you do up there. Fucking useless…" Hermione muttered to herself.
Up therein the attic, Pansy cocooned back into her sheet. She felt like an insect herself, scorched, but scarcely on a scale to care and most of all inconsequential.
No more pauses! Hermione thought meanwhile. Fear is the only thing real, and pain is the only way trough it! She'd finish the work that kept her hands busy. At least her mind was free to roam… only it kept coming back to Parkinson and her stupid fascinations. Even back at school she'd care not to step on a ladybug, than turned around to spit poison on fellow humans. How can such a contradicting person even exist? Hermione wondered. There was something about caterpillars though, Hermione had to admit. Something disarming about their apparent helplessness and maybe human about their inability do discern the world from their limited perspective.
When Hermione deemed the work complete, she barged in upstairs tossing Pansy an unkind glare on her way to the bathroom where she washed her dirt-stained hands.
Whatever resentment Granger felt towards her, Pansy reciprocated with a glare of her own, though only to Hermione's back as she was leaving. Like anywhere else, Granger seemed to be thriving, that's at least how Pansy saw it while also feeling sorry for her own state. She realized that only by acts of pure desperation had she gotten this far, and now she felt stuck like a leaf between the branches. There was nothing to move her until another gust of wind came by. She leaned back on the pillow, stretched one leg out and let the other fall off the side.
Meanwhile Hermione had a clear goal, or several, in mind. She went out to the nearby phone booth and attempted to reach her parent's house, but once again she received the same automated massage: "the number was no longer in service".
It was getting harder to believe her parents are still there, or even their house for that matter. Maybe something bad happened, she caught herself thinking. Going there was certainly the only way to find out. She was already tired of this place anyway, and the air outside seemed as clear as it could get so Hermione went back to the inn and informed Rose of her intentions. She asked for some Muggle money which she used to buy two sturdy backpacks, one for herself and the other was meant to be farewell gift.
Hermione went back to the attic. She thought about handing the backpack to Pansy right away, just to get that out of the way, but now didn't seem like a good time. Not that it ever would, she realized, so perhaps sneaking out would be the thing she does after all. She was sure she'd be able to pull it off tomorrow early in the morning.