T R A I N E D T O S I N | dramione

Twenty two

When Hermione woke, her bed was empty. Not even a crease in the sheets was left where he lay, no trace that Draco had ever been there at all.

The previous day felt like a dream and as she thought back to it, Hermione struggled to determine what had really happened and what she could have just made up.

From the stiff feeling of her slacks against her legs as she swung them over the side of the bed, she knew they had walked through the gardens.

He had told her something, something important which she knew from the memory of his tone, unusually wary like telling her had been a decision that had taken a lot of thought to make.

The weight of the collar felt no less than the day before as she stood, practically weighed down by its presence. Though, her body still felt light, but in a way that was caused from the emptiness in her chest and the haze formed across her mind.

Considering her thoughts were slightly more accessible, Hermione presumed that soon her mind wouldn't feel as cold and that it just needed time to get used to the feeling of her will and own conscious being completely stripped away. But how could one ever get used to such a thing?

She had decided she would find a way, impossible or not she refused to be controlled. There must be a flaw in Voldemort's contraption, something small she could find and exploit.

She didn't have her wand which meant Draco hadn't ordered her against harming anyone other than herself, else she probably would have been left with it.

After yesterday, she wondered if he would completely disregard their arrangement altogether, or uphold it to an extent that only applied to his own opinions and what he wanted.

Would she still be trained? She was sure to go mad without his visits. Though Topsy had grown more comfortable with her and her nervous habits had nearly almost stopped, she was still unable to hold a conversation. Not to mention the fact with every conversation came a 'mud blood'. It was hard to attempt such civility when addressed in such a way. But Hermione knew it wasn't her fault.

Topsy appeared with a loud crack in the middle of the room, only slightly startling Hermione through the veil that still, though barely now, covered her mind.

"Topsy." Hermione tried to smile at the elf who seemed completely unfazed by the witches scarce clothing.

Hermione yearned to rip the uncomfortable slacks off, to feel nothing on her legs but the air around her but decided that could wait until Topsy left.

"The Mudblood must eat today."
Hermione winced, no matter how many times she heard the words they still sounded so strange used in such casual conversation.

"I'm really not hungry, Topsy."
The elf shuffled on her feet, something Hermione hadn't seen her do since her last training session.

"If the Mudblood does not eat today, master will punish Topsy," she said, turning her gaze to the floor.

Hermione could only assume the master she was referring to was Draco, considering he seemed to have most control over Hermione's situation.

Hermione sighed, walking towards Topsy and taking the plate from her trembling hands.

"Thankyou, Topsy, you can go now."