Venom and Its Cure

Chapter 9

Hermione's arm continued to bleed for roughly ten more minutes - to her relief, it was not enough to make her pass out. Yet, to her dismay, it was enough to cover her hands and clothes. As the red soaked into her skin like scarlet ink, she felt her energy slip out with it. Even when the blood stopped flowing, it dried and stuck on her skin, refusing to budge no matter how much she spat and rubbed at it. It seemed permanent. She felt sticky and soiled and unclean.

And furious. Oh, she was furious.

If she was placed on the outside of the situation, rather than the exact center, she would have assumed she would be hurt or humiliated. After all, there was now another reminder of her inferiority, another visible mark of how low she really was, engraved into her flesh. But instead Hermione found herself wanting revenge.

She would find the Horcrux. She would. And when she did, she'd destroy it and subsequently Voldemort himself along with it. No matter what it took away from her. No matter how they hurt her. No matter how much she had to hurt them.

No matter how much she had to hurt herself.

As painful as it was, she knew that those scars proved that she was getting to them. Her impact, though small at its beginning, was scaring them. So much so that she needed to be "put in her place."

Good.

Let them put her in her place. She'd put them in theirs soon enough.

When Pansy finally walked into the Astronomy Tower, Hermione had never been so glad to see her. However, her usually perky exterior seemed downright melancholy today. Hermione wasn't confused as to why.

Over time, she had come to realize that Pansy was not really like the rest of them. Not in the ways that mattered. Hermione knew that if it had been up to Pansy, there would be no blood stains on her skin.

Neither girl offered any words, but none needed to be spoken.

While she appreciated Pansy's kindness, something that was becoming harder and harder to find, Hermione hated being pitied. It only made her feel itchy. And angry. There was no point in Pansy being sorry for her if she wasn't going to ensure it never happened again. Sympathy at the hands of her captor meant nothing.

Pansy waved her wand and the cage door opened; Hermione crawled out and tried not to whimper when she put pressure on her injured arm. She hadn't realized how deep the pain went until then - it felt as if the words were carved into her bone.

They completed their usual walk towards the bathroom in an uncomfortable silence, each unwilling to address the elephant in the room. Hermione searched desperately for a topic. She hated silence, and Pansy was the best way to get information about the outside world. Squandering their time together would only make Hermione annoyed later on. Fortunately, their conversation from a few weeks ago floated to the front of her mind, and from it out popped a question.

"You told me before what Malfoy does. He's the leader, fine, I suppose I can see that," she began. "But then why is Lucius sitting on a throne in the Great Hall? He was the one killing people at the end of the battle. He's the one that gave Bellatrix the order to -" Hermione trailed off, giving a quick glance at her arm.

Pansy snorted a laugh. "Yes, he'd like to think he's so powerful sitting up there. The answer is that he's only up there because Draco allows it. Whatever he does is only because it was granted to him by his son."

Hermione frowned. Last night Malfoy had been insisting that there was no reason for her to be there - that was consistent with what Pansy was saying. He was in charge. But then he seemed to relent and allowed Lucius to "motivate her." The whole thing felt like a gross display of power from all sides.