Chapter 2 Revised(Hermione's P.O.V)
A Foolish Girl
It's hard to see in this house. The hallways are always dark, the curtains never pulled back. Even if you opened them hardly anything would get through, the house seemed to be designed so that nothing associated with light could ever get in. It makes the house cold, my fingers stiff, my toes freezing. The torches are the only thing close to sunlight in this house, but they hurt my eyes. I can't even escape through books.
I can't even pretend I'm someone I'm not.
Portraits and paintings scowl at me as I pass through the darkened corridor. Anyone, anything could go by and I wouldn't know. I squint as if it will suddenly make a light appear, feeling my way down the hall, using my hand to scrape against the cold and damp cement. My face is wet and cold, like I have a fever, it makes my hair fall flat, the air harder to breathe.
Suddenly a door opens and the person holds a light to my face. I grasp my chest and try to still my fast-paced heart. I breathe in and out, slowly, I don't think I've ever been that surprised before. I'm sure this house will be a lot of firsts for me. It's already made me bitter, something I've never done before. Oh, succeeding to fail, don't you just love the stupidity of it all.
"Sorry Hermione, you'll get used to it. These halls are full of surprises." Harry says, motioning to the halls in emphasis with his vacant hand.
"Oh, I don't doubt it." I say with a slight smile. He shakes his head with a smirk of his own and I walk next to him down the hall.
"What are you doing in there?" I ask. Curiosity has always been a weakness of him. No matter how many times I was told not to ask questions I couldn't break the habit.
"Just cleaning up Malfoy's study, always full of shit and rubbish, he's been gone for a week and I still find something to clean."
I let out an airy laugh that reverberates down the hall. The house isn't used to the foreign emotion. One of glee, frolic, easiness. It sounds wrong in this hall, in this house.
I am thankful for Harry. I've been here 5 wretched days but Harry soothes a little bit of that pain, and I can tell he is glad to have a companion, some comfort. We've taken to each other quickly and talk freely about whatever we want, whenever we want. It surprises even me at how fast we've become friends and how comfortable it all feels.
But maybe time is forcing us, pushing us. Our opportunities to feel something more than misery slowly dwindle every day. Every day that has more chance of his return. When he will slither in from the ground he should be buried in. We don't know when he will be back, but we prepare ourselves everyday. I want to believe that he's disposable to me and I am disposable to him. But I think we need each other more than we let on.
He tries not to show it but I know. I know how starved for affection he is. His eyes betray his actions. In his eyes lies a natural curiosity. Years and year of silence and refused questions have made him all the more curious and sneaky. He gets his answers, just not in the way of spoken word.
He asks me questions of the outside world, my home, my friends, what I like. And it does not bother me to answer. I get the greatest pleasure out of still being useful for something other than child-bearing.
He is not like the others. He has not become cruel because life has been cruel to him. He accepts it, and makes the most out of situations. Years and years of silent observing has led him to a silent understanding that this is the way it. No force can change it, and no one can deny it.
I admire him for what he is. He is royalty to me in this ghastly dungeon. I am the slave. We all play our parts. I guess it just lies in the eyes of the beholder.
At nighttime I take to reading in the library. The light is harsh but it's a small sacrifice I'm willing to pay. I worry that even books will be taken away from me.
Tonight I can't read, it is the night before Malfoy's arrival and all I can do is stare into the flame. I should read, I should have fun. I should do all the things that I used to love. But I'm agraid the gravity of the situation outweighs any desire to read. My mind is plagued. Who knows if there's a cure.
For the first time, Harry sits next to me on the floor. We both watch the fire for a little while.
"You scared?" He asks.
I shrug indifferently "A little. But not as much as I used to, I've been preparing myself. I know to expect the worst."
He nods and says "I'm afraid it's all you can do."'
The silence of the house kills me. It hurts my ears not to hear music or birds chirping. There is no marketplace or festivals that bring joy to the streets and everyone around it.
They dropped me in hell and expected me to survive.
"When my father first told me I couldn't believe it. I wouldn't believe him. I didn't want to believe my father had sent his only daughter straight into the claws of the devil. When someone tells you that they love you, and they send you off for a wad of money. It should kill you, it really should. But reality is even harsher it seems, it allows you to live. To live and see the pain."
I sigh and lean my head back on the couch behind me. I turn my head sideways to him "I was always foolish did you know that?"
He shakes his head with a sad smile.
"Always so foolish." I whisper to myself. Harry's hand takes mine and I place my other vacant hand on top of his.
"I was two when they were killed." I don't have to assume. I know that he's talking about his parents. We've never really talked about personals. We've only known each other 5 days. When was there ever time?
"I was sent as a slave here at 5 years old. I couldn't tell you the name of one person who has ever showed me compassion like you." His voice is soft, but audible. "They never have because they either don't want to or they know what's best Hermione. Compassion will get you nowhere in this hell. It's against Malfoy and everything he stands for. You go against him knowingly and it's death. I'm not scared for my life 'Mione, it's yours. You've still got something that he doesn't like in his women. It's not courage or bravery, not enough of it at least, it's passion. He won't tolerate it." He cups my chin and I know his voice is serious. He's trying to tell me to stay away. It's what best for me.
As long as I'm here. My intentions are not being looked out for. There are no concerns for me in this house.
But I look up at him and he exhales. I lean up and kiss him. My first kiss. I touch my hand to his face and move my lips against his, slightly tugging at his bottom lip with my own. He responds and I pull away.
"I like the name 'Mione." I say a quick goodnight to him and walk slowly to my room.
I don't feel embarrassed, maybe some people think I should have. But something changed in me when I walked through that house. Maybe it was the fact that I knew I probably wouldn't walk out of that house alive. It's a stupid thing to kiss your fiancé's servant. But maybe this is what I need, maybe time will grant me a little bit of selfishness.
I always have been a foolish girl.
