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

Twenty seven

Hermione sat in the window sill. Her hand would often find its way to her face, tracing the silver line stretched across it, but she didn't look at it again. Couldn't make herself face a mirror, even more so than before.

The scar shouldn't have mattered. But it did. Because Lucius would always have a mark on her. Lucius had scarred her. It made her ill.

The lights flickered off, but the manor grounds hardly dimmed in their absence. The moon was full and luminous, shining over the grounds and casting the view from her window in a white haze.

The sky was brighter than usual, stars littered the deep sky, each one she looked at more bright than the last. Some were fading, flickering a light orange until it disappeared completely, but it would always be replaced by a speck brighter.

The outside looked peaceful for once. Somewhere she wanted to be instead of afraid of. The gates weren't visible from her window, but just knowing they were there was enough to send a chill down her neck. Now the space they occupied was casted in a shadow, not visible  even if she squinted and strained her eyes.

There was hardly a wind, just enough to lightly sway the trees in the distant hills and russle the bushes into a quiet whisper.

Hermione cast a glance at the door. She knew it was unlocked, had known for a while, and yet she hadn't left. Her room was safe, or so she had previously thought, and what resided in this house she suspected was not.

But Lucius had gotten her in her room. She wasn't safe anywhere. And so with a sigh, she dropped her legs over the ledge and dropped to the floor. She cast a glance to the boots discarded under her bed. The night would be bitter, but she had grown accustomed to travelling bare feet.

Hermione continued on. When she stood by the door, she lifted the cloak, that she had taken from Draco so long ago, from the hook on the door, and draped it over her shoulders.

Her hand hovered over the door handle for a while, rattling the knob when she finally took it, and twisted it open. The hallways were empty.

Her heart was smacking her ribs, loud in her ears in the silence of the night. All she had to do was walk to the main stairway, then she could go outside.

When she stepped over the threshold, her toes curled, gripping the marble floor as if she was preparing to be taken. Releasing a shaky breath, Hermione began down the long hallway. She had walked it many times, and like usual, even if in the silence of the night, her footsteps were silent. Part of her knew that was another reason for deciding to leave barefoot.

After a few minutes, Hermione came across the main stairway. Her eyes found the banister. She shivered. Ripping her gaze away, she carried on towards the crown of the steps, slowly stepping down the first and after that, it was easy.

The door was in her sights, shards of moonlight seeping through the windows, practically calling for her. The doors were larger than she remembered: the two of them completely engulfed her frame.

Her hand found the handle in the dim light. It rattled with her touch, but when she stilled, it settled. Her heart was beating faster again, matching the rapid rise and fall of her chest, her attempts to slow her breathing proving useless.

Slowly, she began to turn it, forcing her hand still to minimise the rattle. She waited for a click, and when the slightest one sounded, cracking the room briefly, she pushed the door open.