Blade Of War (Dramione)

Chapter 6

The room soon grew contaminated with the reek of whiskey. To be precise, the exact fume erupted when Malfoy stepped foot.

It didn't really come as a surprise.

Yet Hermione noticed the apparent problem in overconsumption, yet that was probably the least of Malfoy's worries.

"Alright, the dark lord wants us to ask an array of questions, so here we ask away." Andromeda spoke before Malfoy got the chance. She huffed out and rolled her eyes, as if this were the last place she wanted to stand.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the distaste in both their expressions. It wasn't just one, but both stood in front with looks of dullness for days. It was inevitable that they practically dragged their feet with every move. They didn't look alive, yet quite the opposite. Lifeless in fact. 

Yet Hermione had a hunch that would happen when one serves for Voldemort himself.

There was slight similarity with every soul present from war. Yet the ones who caused all the havoc themselves shouldn't have looked as they did. They should have been striding along with bliss, yet the hue of grayish purple under their eyes was inevitable. 

Malfoy's was darker shade of purple. An abnormal one.

Hermione was almost astonished by the lack of energy they radiated. 

They were copies of the dark lord, they should have been celebrating the win of war.

Yet they looked awful, Malfoy especially.

                                                                                 ~-~

"He looks different don't you think? Draco, he looks I'll."

"Hermione, what difference does it make?" 

                                                                                ~-~

She remembered that moment with Harry in the hall. She had flashbacks from that time to now. Draco looked awful just as he did then. Yet somehow slightly worse.

"Right then, we better start now or we will never get a word out from this one." Andromeda spoke, signaling to where Hermione sat still and steady. She still hadn't spoken a word.

She wondered how long she could keep that going.

Andromeda grabbed a piece of parchment along with a quill as she sat in front of Hermione on the slightly rustic sofa.

"Lets start this simple, and I urge you to not turn it into anything more." Andromeda stated, almost warningly as she gave Hermione a cold stare. She was definitely not one for anything less than punctual.

Thats how Hermione once was, punctual, put together in a sense. Yet now she was barely able to let out a mere word. She never kept her mouth shut before. She always fought, and spoke her mind, whatever she pleased. Yet now she was shaking in her stance, she couldn't decipher if it was the current situation of deep interrogation, or the moments of battle, and blood shed that clouded her mind.

She just wanted it to stop. All of it in her mind to stop replaying on a spiral, she already lived right through it. Was that not enough?

Her mind of course said no.

She tried all she could to focus on her current state, yet the past was still taking its toll. She didn't want to catch herself staring off into the blank wall of nothing, yet it was either that or her gaze shifted to her arm, with apparent battle scars, in which she hated the look.