A/N: Over 2,000 hits-I can't believe it! Your feedback has been overwhelming and I can't wait to hear what you think of the next few chapters. Things may slow down a bit as they try to sort themselves out, but I promise it's not over yet...
Trigger Warnings: Panic attack/anxiety episode, mentioned drowning, mentioned abuse, minor injuries such as bruises, hair pulling
"Hermione," Narcissa intoned firmly. "Hermione, listen to me. Focus on the sound of my voice."
Hermione only curled into a tighter ball. Her breathing continued to be erratic, but didn't deteriorate further. Narcissa took this as a good sign.
"It's alright," Narcissa told her softly, placing a gentle hand on Hermione's back and stroking it lightly. "You are safe, you are free." Hermione remained in her foetal position, but seemed to be comforted by Narcissa's assurances. Encouraged, Narcissa continued. "No one will find us here, I promise. We are safe; I will protect you." As Narcissa tried to calm the shaking witch, it dawned on her that these were not empty promises. She was actually enabled to protect Hermione, to protect both of them; she was just as liberated by this escape as Hermione was. Perhaps her prison had not been as obvious, but it was just as effective.
With renewed determination, Narcissa wrapped her arms around Hermione and ran her fingers over her back in soothing circles. "It's alright, I'm here," she whispered. She didn't know if this was a consoling prospect or not, but she certainly hoped so.
Hermione moved nearer to Narcissa's touch, finding great comfort in the woman's hold and gentle voice. She felt like all of her emotions from the past weeks which had been hibernating under her shock and fear were suddenly bubbling up and spilling over. She couldn't control her sobs and clung to Narcissa as she trembled, hoarse cries being ripped from her throat a she let the tsunami of feeling force its way out of her mind and heart.
Hermione cried for longer than she'd ever thought she was able to. Her sadness and anxiety and fear felt never-ending, but her energy ran out before she could expel all her emotions and she was left with her cheek on Narcissa's shoulder, her face streaked with hot tears. Narcissa's arms were holding her close and rubbing her arm and back as they huddled on the ground in the darkness; Narcissa's Lumos had expired long ago and her wand had slipped from the woman's hand.
Hermione was silent for a few long minutes after her sobs subsided, resting against Narcissa's front as she waited for her breathing to stabilise.
"I'm sorry," she croaked.
"It's alright," Narcissa's soft reply was right by Hermione's ear and she was struck by how near they were, and how absurd it was that she was in a room in a Muggle hotel, crying into the shoulder of Narcissa Malfoy. Now that she was no longer imprisoned, Hermione felt herself slowly sliding back into her usual personality. Seeing her situation through her own eyes rather than those of the frightened animal she'd become in the dungeon, she was suddenly rather uncomfortable.
Hermione slowly sat up, distancing herself from Narcissa so that they were no longer touching, but became overwhelmed with dizziness and had to lie down again. Narcissa found her wand and illuminated another Lumos, looking down at Hermione with concern.
"What do you need?"
"Water, I think," Hermione croaked, ignoring her pride for a moment and allowing Narcissa to help her. "If you turn on the light—there should be a button or a switch on the wall—you'll see there are some glasses, probably in the bathroom."
Narcissa stood and ran her wandlight along the wall until she found something that fit Hermione's description and pressed it cautiously. A light in the ceiling of the room turned on and suddenly there were surrounded by a warm glow. Narcissa extinguished her wand and squinted at the light. "It is like a candle," she remarked, "but its flame does not flicker."
Hermione was nearly amused by Narcissa's responses to basic Muggle technology. It was like watching a child trapped in the body of a grown woman.
After a second of pondering, Narcissa moved to the adjoining bathroom and found two overturned glasses waiting by the sink. She took one and aimed her wand at it, muttering, "Aguamenti," and watched with satisfaction as it filled with water. She took it and knelt beside Hermione on the floor, helping her sit up and gulp it down. Narcissa filled it again and again until Hermione had had her fill.
Hermione couldn't remember the last time she'd had more than just a meagre gobletful of water. Even on the run with Harry and Ron, they'd never had plentiful resources. This simple glass against her lips felt like an oasis and it was only when Hermione felt like she couldn't drink anymore that she raised her hand as an indication to stop and lay back down on the floor. The fluid sloshed around her belly, but she could feel her body gratefully absorbing it and slid just a little more back into her usual self.
"Thank you," she breathed, her eyes shut.
"You're welcome," Narcissa replied softly, setting the glass down on the carpet and looking Hermione up and down. She was covered in dirt and her skin was a sickly pale colour. There were bruises and marks speckling her flesh and her hair was an absolute disaster. Gently, Narcissa placed her palm on Hermione's forehead again and was relieved to find that it was not as warm as before. She was probably overwhelmed and horribly malnourished; Narcissa couldn't begin to imagine her suffering.
"You should bathe before you sleep, Hermione," Narcissa suggested, squeezing her arm a little to get her attention.
Hermione groaned. "I'm so tired…"
"I know," Narcissa stood. "Rest and I will prepare the water." She turned, then cast a softening charm on the floor as an afterthought. Hermione pressed deeper into the suddenly soft carpet and Narcissa went to the bathroom, satisfied that she would be alright for the time being.
The Muggle bath didn't look terribly different from a magical one, to Narcissa's relief. She leaned over and peered at the taps, twisting them and smiling when water began to pour out. Usually one of her elves would run her baths for her, but Narcissa was perfectly capable on her own. She adjusted the taps until the water was pleasantly warm.
After a few minutes of surveying the bath, Narcissa frowned. It didn't seem to be filling; all the water was going down the drain. Narcissa couldn't understand why the water hadn't activated the plug like in her home.
Determined not to be outsmarted by a Muggle contraption, Narcissa pulled up her sleeve and reached her arm down to prod at the little metal disc. She tried pushing it down, but it would not budge. Frustrated, she dried her hand on a towel and analysed the other little buttons and levers next to the taps.
Curiously, she reached out and pulled out a slim metal rod from the wall.
Hermione's eyes flashed open when she heard Narcissa's scream and she jumped to her feet, stumbling to the bathroom with her wand drawn. She couldn't immediately identify any danger and stared in confusion at Narcissa Malfoy being soaked by the shower.
"What on Earth are you doing?"
Narcissa pulled herself out of the spray, looking very much like a drowned animal with water soaking her hair and back. "I was attempting to plug the drain," she gestured with frustration, "but apparently I activated the wrong thing!" She threw her hands up. "I do not understand these Muggle technologies."
Hermione broke out in laughter. Narcissa watched, waiting for her to collect herself, but when Hermione continued to laugh hysterically, Narcissa sighed and flicked her wand at her own soaked head, trying to wring the water out with a drying spell. It managed to dry her hair, but also made it frizz up, which naturally pushed Hermione into another fit of giggles.
"I thought you were being attacked or something!" gasped Hermione between laughs. Narcissa only rolled her eyes, secretly gratified to see Hermione smiling. It seemed miraculous after a month of gruelling captivity and torture.
"If you could turn off the shower and fix the drain, I will prepare your bath while you rest."
Hermione wiped the amused tears from her eyes and did as Narcissa asked. Her eyes widened at the feeling of the warm water against her skin and she was suddenly very impatient to submerge herself. When was the last time she'd had a proper wash?
She left Narcissa to finish the preparations and explored the rest of their room. There wasn't much to see; simple bed, bland artwork and generic furnishings. The clock on the bedside table said it was two o'clock in the morning. To have definitive knowledge of the time felt strange after so long being imprisoned in empty darkness. What was the date? Hermione honestly had no idea how long she'd been held in Malfoy Manor.
She sat in an armchair and gazed out at the city lights until Narcissa told her the water was ready. Hermione thanked her, feeling very awkward about having Narcissa Malfoy run her a bath.
But when she saw the clean, steaming water, all thoughts were wiped from Hermione's mind. She wanted to moan at the sight. Wasting no time undressing, Hermione closed her eyes and lowered herself into the bath with a luxurious sigh. She suspected Narcissa had used an extension charm, since there was no way such a shallow bath should comfortably reach up to her chin. Based on the slight floral aroma, the woman had added some of the bath oils in little bottles by the sink, too.
Hermione sank into the warmth, letting it wash away the grime and pain of her captivity. She scrubbed her skin mercilessly with soap until it was raw and smooth, every molecule of abuse exfoliated. The small hotel bottles of shampoo made Hermione scoff, and she easily used all of the product as she washed her hair half a dozen times. It was a nightmare, tangled and matted and full of dirt. Her fingers became caught in the knots and she grabbed her wand in frustration, aiming it at the wall to sever the metal loop which held a towel. She summoned it to her wet hand and transfigured it into a wide-tooth comb. It took a good twenty minutes to work it through her hair with the conditioner and she winced as fistfuls of strands came away from her scalp.
The water didn't get any colder, so Hermione wasn't sure how long she lingered in the bath. Her fingertips were wrinkly by the time she brought herself to get out, but she didn't regret it at all. Her body was still bruised and swollen in some places, but her skin had a healthy pinkish glow to it and her hair felt silky smooth, albeit very tender near her scalp and slightly thinner than it had been.
Hermione wrapped herself in a plush towel and debated whether she should put her clothes back on before stepping out of the bathroom. They sat in a tragic heap on the floor, her faded jeans and simple t-shirt and jumper. They were the absolute last thing she wanted to wear; she was half tempted to set them on fire and be done with it.
Without a second thought about whether it was polite, Hermione quietly opened the bathroom door and stepped onto the carpet.
"How do you feel?" Narcissa was quick to spot her from where she sat on the armchair by the window, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. How had this witch managed to make tea in a Muggle hotel room?
"Much better, thank you," Hermione answered, self-consciously pulling her towel closer around her.
Narcissa set her tea on the table and moved to the bed, holding up a bit of pale fabric. "I transfigured this for you from one of the curtains," she explained somewhat bashfully, and Hermione realised that it was a nightgown and that one of the curtains was indeed missing.
"Thank you," Hermione said in surprise, reaching forward to take the material. It felt a bit stiffer than most clothing, probably because it was made from the starchy curtains, but it was a thousand times better than having to sleep in her filthy clothes. She hesitated for an awkward moment, then silently went back to the bathroom to put on the nightgown. It wasn't fitted by any means, but it covered her and felt clean.
When she stepped back out, drying her hair with a towel, Narcissa had transfigured her own clothes into a silky pyjama set. A deep shade of green again, Hermione noted with a smirk.
"I made you tea," Narcissa gestured to the second cup on the table and Hermione moved to sit in the other armchair, wincing as she sat. She'd forgotten about her bruised hip.
"I didn't know you know how to use a Muggle kettle," Hermione remarked, feeling unbelievably awkward.
"I'm afraid I do not," Narcissa answered, just as uncomfortably. "I used a warming charm to heat the water."
"Oh," Hermione took a sip of the tea and added some cream from one of the little plastic containers on the table. The silence felt stiff and strained. Hermione wanted to interrogate the woman across from her, to sort out the particulars of everything she was confused about, but she was too exhausted, and settled for the most pressing question burning her mind. "Do you know what the date is?"
Narcissa blinked. "It is nearing the end of May," she answered plainly.
"May?" echoed Hermione, feeling numb. "But I thought it was only April when I was snatched…"
As though confirming the passing of a loved one, Narcissa mournfully confirmed, "It was April."
A month. Hermione had been the Death Eater's prisoner for a month. Her emotions swung between proud and horrified, and there were fresh tears burning at her eyelashes again. She let out a choked sob and buried her face in her hands.
Narcissa's arms were around her in an instant. Hermione leaned into her touch, allowing her hold to comfort her as she cried for the second time that night—or morning.
"You should rest now, Hermione," Narcissa suggested gently. "You are exhausted and you need sleep. It will be easier after that."
Hermione wasn't sure what Narcissa thought would be easier. Existence itself? She was probably right.
"I haven't finished my tea," she said rather pathetically, tears still running down her cheeks.
With one arm still wrapped around her shoulders, Narcissa guided Hermione to her feet. "It's alright; I will take care of it."
Hermione couldn't speak. She could feel herself unravelling again like she had done earlier, only now she didn't have enough energy to fall apart. She stumbled to the bed as Narcissa encouraged and collapsed on it, too distressed and distraught to appreciate the comfort of a mattress. She was vaguely aware of Narcissa adjusting the blankets for her, but any sort of external observation was quickly swallowed by her tumultuous mind. Any sort of peace she'd found during her bath was gone now, and the violent emotions which had crashed around her mind earlier were coming back in full force.
The familiar sight of Narcissa's sad eyes as she aimed her wand at Hermione's head was the last thing Hermione saw before she slipped unconscious.