Captured

Chapter Twenty: Doubt

It was still early afternoon when the library doors slammed shut behind Malfoy's receding footsteps.

A small part of her wanted to say screw it and try through the maze again, simply because she loathed the idea of being stuck in here while there were innocent people being hurt out there.

But she knew she would never get past Malfoy. And she knew that if she had forgotten the possibility of there being wards at the property line that notified the older Malfoys, or possibly even Voldemort himself, that she was not in the right state of mind to actually help at the moment.

So she did the only thing she could do.

Read.

She walked to the first bookshelf she could and slid a tome out of the line of books that housed it, not paying attention to the title or even the subject of that section of the library. Then she pointedly chose a chair on the opposite side of the large room from where she usually sat, effectively blocking both the window and her usual chair, along with reminders of her failed attempt and their previous...entanglement.

She needed to be in a better headspace if she was going to try and think of a way to help anyone at all outside of here.

So, she read.

~.~.~

It was dark outside by the time Hermione finally felt calm enough to slide the book home and head back up to her own room, though she still glared at the maze beyond her window when she finally made it there.

She found though, that she was still restless, and when she heard soft footsteps stop outside her door, followed by a soft thump on the floor, she knew she wasn't the only one.

She stared for a moment, unsure of why he would come here again after how they left things. She was sure that the previous night was a singular event.

Still, she couldn't help it as she dragged a blanket and pillow off of her bed and padded softly across the floor to the door where she settled into the same position she had the previous night, albeit slightly more comfortable.

She didn't try to talk this time, simply curled up against the door with just enough noise so that he'd know she was there.

As she felt herself drifting off, a small part of her wondered if this was going to become a pattern.

~.~.~

It did.

The next week had the two of them falling into a strange agreement of sorts.

They hadn't spoken since he'd stopped her at the edge of the maze, but every night she heard him settle outside her door, and every night she pulled a blanket and pillow over to fall asleep on the other side.

They'd pass each other in the halls here and there throughout the day, as she was heading to the library, or simply restless and needing to move. There was never any acknowledgement, no wayward glances in the other's direction, no awkward hellos or insults.

Though she did notice that he flinched everytime bits and pieces of black cloak would flutter by one of the many windows, and she couldn't help but wonder if it had been worse for him since the mission, dealing with them. If he heard echoes of the screams every time the creatures floated by. If he saw the fallen families.

She wondered if it even made a difference to him.

She studied in the library, every day, and a small part of her felt like her old self. Like she was helping Harry figure out how to overcome a task for the Triwizard tournament, or researching Nicholas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone. Though this time she mainly studied wards, and protective enchantments commonly used on estates like the Malfoys.