The silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating, as Malfoy sat with his back hunched, the thin blanket pulled tightly around his frame. The cold, damp walls of the cell seemed to press in on them both, and the meager rations of sludge were coming less frequently, leaving a gnawing emptiness in Hermione's stomach. She couldn't help but imagine the warm, comforting meals that awaited the students at Hogwarts, far away from this wretched place. Her mind drifted—roast meat, flaky rolls, steamed vegetables, buttery mashed potatoes. Maybe even pies and cakes for dessert.
No matter how hard she tried to block out these thoughts, they intruded, tantalizing her senses. Her mouth watered involuntarily, and before she could stop herself, she broke the oppressive silence.
"Malfoy," she said suddenly, her voice cracking through the stillness, "if you could eat anything right now, what would it be?"
Malfoy glanced up, startled. He seemed almost confused by the question, like he hadn't heard her right. "Huh?"
"What would you eat?" she repeated, trying to sound casual.
His eyes narrowed. "No, Granger, I heard you. I just don't understand why you're asking me such utter nonsense."
Hermione swallowed, unsure why she had asked either. "I don't know, I just thought... I mean, we're bored. Maybe we could talk?"
He scoffed, a sound full of disdain. "And what gave you the impression that I wanted to talk to you? Was it the absolute silence, or perhaps the way I've been glaring at you? Or maybe it's the fact that every time I get a chance, I turn away because it disgusts me to share this cell with you."
His words hit her like a slap. Hermione felt her jaw drop as she stared at him, the anger rising within her. "Well, I didn't ask to be stuck here with you either, you absolute prick!" she shot back, her voice louder than she intended.
Malfoy's hand went to his hair, raking through it in frustration, as he turned sharply away from her.
"I just don't understand why you won't talk to me," she continued, softer now, but no less frustrated. "Do you actually hate me that much?"
"Yes," The boy hissed, the venom in his voice unmistakable. "I hate you that much. Now kindly shut the fuck up, Granger, and leave me alone."
With that, he hurled his bowl of sludge into the center of the cell, the contents splattering across the grimy floor. The sound echoed briefly before the oppressive silence returned, thicker than before.
