1 hour – prompts used: 'merrily' 'buttons' 'crimson' 'ornament' 'lettuce' "don't listen to her"
Hermione could hear the party from her place in the dungeons. They were merrily cheering and laughing and she could only presume it had finally reached Christmas – she'd lost track of the days since she'd been taken. Her, George Weasley and a Ravenclaw who was also in the Order but she couldn't remember his name, had been taken during a routine activity and they'd been stuck ever since.
She'd been tortured, they'd both been tortured and yet she hadn't seen a face that she recognised.
"Merry Christmas Hermione." George said through the bars of their cages. She mumbled greetings back to both the other captives but she didn't really care anymore. The pain of her last torture this morning had been intense and they'd even started practicing with some slicing hexes this time, hence the multitude of cuts on her arms and legs and the large puddle of drying blood that sat in the middle of the room. Due to magic being used on the cuts, they'd scabbed over quick enough and were at the dangerous itchy stage.
A clang at the top of the stairs which led down to the dungeons alerted them that were expecting visitors and Hermione, cruel as it may be, only hoped that they weren't here to play with her. She listened to them as they spoke, voices getting louder and –
Oh Merlin.
She knew them.
She scrambled slowly forwards, the pain in her body being ignored as she fiddled with buttons on her top; a nervous tick that she'd picked up.
"Food." Blaise Zabini called out and chucked a large amount of lettuce into each cell. "Granger, you look horrendous." He added afterwards but then his eyes narrowed in on the crimson puddle. "What's that?"
"Blood." She responded, chewing the food and eying him warily. "Mine of course."
"It can't be." He breathed and Draco Malfoy stiffened beside him before tugging on his arm. "Get off."
"No, let's go find mother and talk about taking an ornament off the tree to put on ours."
"My blood Zabini. Red. Like yours." Hermione called out, picking a scab on her forearm and watching the red liquid dribble down. "If I'm a mudblood, how come it isn't brown? I'm just like you Zabini. Just like you."
"Don't listen to her!" Draco cried, shooting her a glare.
"No mate, look at it. It's like ours. She's right." Blaise breathed, moving to unlock the doors. "We have to help them out. This is wrong."
"Blaise, think about it. We'll be risking our lives if I let you do this. This is dangerous and she's a mudblood."
"Don't Draco." He snapped. "You know I never wanted to do this and you can see that her blood is like ours. I don't want to fight for the wrong side anymore, I want to fight for the good. Now, if I have to obliviate you or put you under the imperius then I will."
Draco and Hermione grinned before he unlocked the door to her cell.
"You okay love?" Draco asked, kissing her forehead.
"Yeah. Took you long enough. Let's get out of here."