Bound

Chapter 6

TW// Dark themes and mention of torture. Read with caution.

***

The knife plunged harsh at her skin, sending the pain to a raw higher level.

She screeched and squirmed and clawed at the mad woman in front of her, but to no avail.

Hermione gave up, letting the free arm she used to claw at the woman in front of her fall limp next to her limp body.

She had never felt so powerless, so angry, so scared, so...tired.

Oh so so tired, she felt.

She let her eyes drift close, slowly just in case someone came to her rescue.

But nightmares weren't meant to be happy, no.

Nightmares weren't meant to give you that fluttering feeling in your stomach, that comfortable deep feeling that would encase you in a warm blanket that would protect you from the cold or any possible threat or thought eating at you.

Nightmares were meant to torment you; meant to show you what would have happened if that didn't happen, what would have happened if no one came to your rescue.

Nightmares were meant to eat at your skin and claw at your fingertips up to your neck, nightmares were supposed to make you shiver.

Not the shiver that occurs when someone gives you a flower or peck your cheeks, no, it was the kind of shiver that occurs when someone does something unexpected, when someone betrays you and you feel like the whole world is ending and the ground is crumbling and the heavens are breaking.

So that is why Hermione didn't just simply drift to deep slumber that she would never wake up from again, No.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open when they saw the Malfoy matriarch press her fragile, teenage son to the wall, reprimanding him for something Hermione couldn't decipher.

The Malfoy son furrowed his eyebrows, concern drawn on his face and regret clearly visible in his eyes.

He kept saying words that Hermione wasn't able to hear, she was so weak that she wasn't able to catch anything except a few phrases from now and then.

"...but mum...classmate..."

"You can't...she is seventeen!"

"Please mother..."

"Don't...aunt Bella, please..."

"Not...deserve..."

"She...not....this..."

The words and the sounds died down when Hermione's eyes began closing again.

She could have sworn that she felt his heated gaze at her, begging her to stay awake for just a little longer.

"Please, Granger, don't die on me..." his eyes were telling a story that would never be told...

Or maybe it would?

Fate has a fun, cruel twisted way with playing with people's minds.

Fate is nothing but a tangled game of lying, heartbreak and losing.

And it has, unfortunately, chosen its chess pieces.

Damn her and Malfoy for being the king and the queen.

***

Draco shot up from bed, nervously and panically looking around the room, searching for the commotion that has started him from his deep slumber.