𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

☾ Chapter 7

☾

The trees outside of their cell door had begun to turn, shades of mandarin and crimson taking over the valley's landscape, crisp air filling Hermione's nostrils as she woke with a grunt.

Tangled under the newly provided bedsheets, quite thin might she add, barely able to contain any body heat, her eyes blinked open.

Despite the cooling air, she'd noticed the cell seemed to retain a sense of warmth.

Perhaps it was psychological. Perhaps Malfoy had placed a warming charm over the concrete walls.

Perhaps he wasn't as initially evil as she had believed.

Perhaps.

Her dreams hadn't brought her back to Hogwarts last night.

Instead she'd found herself alone, sitting in an open aired teahouse at sunset, lanterns hanging from the strips of red wood with a steaming cup of green tea in her mittened hands, a teaspoon of honey having been mixed into the brew.

The sky seemed to blush down at her as the fading sun dropped from the sky, kissing her cheeks goodbye before the world turned cold.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

Every morning the world pulled her from fantasy back to reality.

Back to that damned white dress and her damned gray cell and her moronic, thick headed, stubborn damned self.

The guards arrived shortly after her awakening to drag Neville away for an interrogation. They didn't even give him time to eat breakfast.

Nobody tried to stop them, nobody protested. They had all given up.

Boredom was a regular visitor to Hermione's consciousness. She spent her time reciting Order training exercises with Ginny to relieve that fatigue of nothingness.

When she was too sore or tired to train she braided and unbraided her long locks of curls, until she could braid her entire mane in merely ten seconds.

When she wasn't training and her hair wasn't braided, her head hurt.

It throbbed in excruciating pain; so much pain it led her to sobs; sobs so powerful they left her throat raw.

Every night, despite her agony, she refused the medication. She knew she would drive herself to death if she didn't, but she no longer cared.

By the end of five rounds of training, punches and hooks being thrown between the two girls, braiding her hair twenty seven times and single headache in her temples, Neville had returned with a bruised and bloodied body.

Parvati cleansed him of his wounds before laying him down onto his mattress. It was all Parvati knew how to do, healing.

After not being able to save Lavender from her werewolf bites, she'd gone mad with the need to rehabilitate every being she saw hurt, whether it be physically or mentally.

Dusk was swiftly approaching.

After wrapping their knuckles in torn cloths to soften their blows, Ginny and Hermione began to fight again.