𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

☾ Chapter 21

☾

The days had been strangely quiet.

Stolen looks passed between them every time he'd bring food, a glint in his eyes that seemed to ask her how she was holding up, or if she was alright.

Sometimes he would wish her farewell in her mind, when others wouldn't detect his occlumency.

She knew it had been fourteen days since her last walk with him, meaning it was Thursday. The month or the date, she was unsure, but she knew it was Thursday.

Thursday to Thursday was her only sense of time.

The cell fell into darkness as twilight brewed, the only source of light being the red numbers on the solar powered alarm clock he had gifted her.

It sat on the end of Hermione's mattress where her feet would normally stretch, but currently she was curled in a ball, staring, as she usually did while waiting for him.

Her mood had slightly improved, having visited Harry back at Hogwarts for a few nights. She felt guilty for it, but she hadn't seen Ron. It hadn't been an intentional decision; it seemed her mind had erased his presence entirely.

The metal screeched against the concrete ground as he entered, ropes tucked in his satchel far away from her wrists as he led her outside into further darkness.

"Do you think it'll get warm soon?" She asked. It wasn't a very bright conversation topic, but they always needed a starter. Once the bickering began, their interactions hardly required any effort.

"Why? Are you cold, Granger?"

"No, it was only a question," she answered, trying to hide her goosebumps with the lengths of her sleeves.

His brow raised, giving her a look that said, are you stupid?

"Don't lie to me, Granger. I can see your teeth chattering," he muttered, casting a warming charm over her body with his wand, "For fuck's sake, I'm not blind."

She drew a sigh.

"Th-"

"Shut up," he mused before she could finish her sentence, raking a hand through his platinum locks, skin pale against the moonlight, "Stop thanking your captor every five seconds of your miserable life. I'm starting to think you've got Stockholm Syndrome."

Her brows furrowed at the statement, recalling research she'd done on the subject of muggle medicine and illnesses nearly a year ago.

"I was actually pondering that myself-"

"Oh for fuck's sake—I was joking," he sighed with a shake of the head, a ridiculous smirk sitting across his lips, "For being the most brilliant person I know, sometimes you can be so damned dense."

She felt a flutter inside her chest, cheeks flushing red as she looked up at him. He met her softened gaze.

"You think I'm brilliant?"

She had asked so quietly, so shyly, he wasn't sure it was even her who'd said it.

"I don't think you're a complete idiot, if that's what you'd like to hear," he amended his statement to something with a bit more of a sting. God forbid he complement her in the flesh.

A slight sense of disappointment clouded his features. It'd meant to come out as, 'yes, you are the most interesting, wise, astounding person I have ever met', and instead he'd been the cause of her eyes falling back towards the dirt on her shoes with letdown.

It was routine for their actions to change once inside the Center. He'd shove her towards Slughorn's office with a sense of dramatized brutality, sit down with a book and wait for her to finish showering.