Chapter 35
Hermione had been awake for several minutes. She just didn't want to open her eyes. Her body ached everywhere, and she was pretty sure some of her ribs were cracked. Breathing hurt enormously, but so did thinking. Gods don't let me have a concussion. She prayed silently; her mind bursting with worry.
She laid still and counted her breaths, listening for an indication of where she could be, and trying to steady her rapidly beating heart. She heard far away sounds of voices, heavily muffled, but present none the less. She heard what may have been heavy rain pouring outside, or maybe a rush of water somewhere far off. She was laying on a hard floor, and her shoulders were cold and bare.
When she finally felt confident she was totally alone, she forced her self to open her eyes. She was in a dimly lit room, facing a large wooden door. There were bits of hay on the floor around her, and when she glanced down at herself, she saw her robe was torn to her waist, exposing her shoulders and chest. Brilliant, she thought tersely, looking at her exposed breasts. She pulled the rags of her robes up over herself as best she could.
She sat up and scanned the room for a window. There was none, not that she was surprised. There wasn't any furniture either.
Ok, Hermione, what now? She took a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. She stretched as best she could, taking care to spare her ribs as much movement as possible. Her muscles protested every move, but she needed to stretch them. You never knew when being limber would come in handy.
She crept to the door and lowered herself down to the floor, trying to peak an eye out underneath. A thin band of light illuminated the under side of the door way, but she couldn't make out anything in the space in front of her except floor space. How frustrating this was. But, truly, what had she expected?
She slumped back down into a sitting position. She hoped Draco was alright, where ever they had taken him. If they had taken him alive. She shuddered and pushed the thought away. She needed to concentrate.
Make it into the castle, check. Don't get myself killed, check. Find the elder wand? OH, god, Hermione you idiot.
She wondered where in the castle she was. And who had captured her? She hadn't been able to see anyone's face when they brought her down. She doubted she could ambush who ever was coming to the door for her next, not in her weakened and injured state.
She wondered if Ron was somewhere in the castle. Or if any of the other captured Order members were. The thoughts hurt. She was here on a mission, and likely wouldn't have time to search the whole castle for Order members after she got the Elder Wand. If I get the Elder Wand, he thought miserably, a lone tear falling down her ruddy cheek.
Once I get that Wand, I will have to high tail it into the forest. Perhaps the centaurs will shield me while I try and- Try and what? Bring Harry back? And what spell will you use, idiot girl? Hermione realized she didn't know what spell to use. She hadn't had the opportunity to research, and there wasn't exactly a surplus of libraries for her to pick and chose from while she was on the run. Perhaps I can search the library here, before I escape. If I can escape. The uncertainty of the path in front of her scared her. She had come so far and lost so much already. Why didn't I plan this out further, before throwing myself all in?
Her thoughts trailed to Ron, to back when they had been in hiding together. Harry was dead and gone, and their morale had been so low. But they hadn't wanted to give up.
"I want to have kids one day, 'Mione. What kind of a world is this for kids?" He had asked her, holding her so close. She had been so worried he would abandon her again, and this was his way of telling her he wouldn't. But she could never be sure, not after the first time.
She had wanted the whole thing with him. Marriage, kids, a house. A life, a real, tangible life. Not on the run, the kind of life where roots were laid and the tree grew upwards and outwards forever. That dream was ashes to her now.
How could we ever go back to normal after this?
Draco's face popped into her mind, then. The face had had made when he spoke about Astoria, and the life with her that he would never get.
We truly are swimming in the same river. Hermione thought forlornly. Part of her didn't want to keep her hopes up that on was alive, part of her didn't want to give up hope. It was a terrible line to toe.
Before she could lament on the subject any further, she heard steps approaching the door to her cell. She sucked her breath in quickly, to scared now to even make a sound.
What do I do? Pretend to be sleeping? But before she could make a decision, she heard the sounds of keys jangling in a lock, and the door before her swung open.