Bloodlust

Chapter VIII

It has been a week since the incident happened, and the Manor was dully quiet. The curtains always covered the sunlight from entering the Manor. Only one room had its curtains opened. The hallways were dim, and the whole place was quiet, deafening as it is.

Hermione hasn't been out her bedroom since that happened, she transferred bedrooms as well. Narcissa moved Hermione to the bedroom next to hers and her husband, on the second floor of the Manor. The wallpapers were in a different colour, and the interior of the bedroom was way far different from her old bedroom. Which, she pretended to think that helped a bit to depart her mind from the memories of her deadly encounter with Draco, but it did not really do anything. Hermione slept for almost four days after the incident, she was devastatingly ill causing her to almost fall into coma.

Her body was weak and covered in bruises. She barely had blood left on her body that night. When she woke up, Narcissa was there with a healer named Leo who was the same age as Lucius. He must be a trusted person because Narcissa was way too specific at explaining why she barely had blood in her body.

Hermione has never seen Draco yet. She had no news about him after what happened. Not that she was complaining. She best preferred not to see him or even to hear his name after he fed on her like an animal. She never dared to ask anyway. Hermione still was incredulous that her first encounter with Draco and her near-death experience just happened in one day. She was even thankful she was asleep for almost four days, but it did not make any difference at all. After the four days of shutdown. She still felt aweary. She hardly focused because her mind was still clouded by the horrifying event.

Narcissa would personally bring her meals and her daily dose of blood replenishing potion as what Healer Leo prescribed. Lucius and Narcissa would take turns checking on her at midnight to check if she was sleeping, awake or bothered. But mostly, it was Narcissa because Lucius had to rest his shoulders as well. Narcissa would bring her snacks also. Still, it was a wonder to her why the couple suddenly acted that they care. It was unsettling and new to her, suspicious as what it looked like. Hermione seemed like the couple's ill child, as for the kind of effort they showed her.

Probably guilt. Hermione always thought of.

The fear ran too deep inside her. Draco left roots of unpleasant emotions in her system, causing her to hold her guards up. Whenever someone knocked on her door, she could tell the couple's footsteps apart due to their frequent visits. Her fear manipulated her senses, to hear and identify footsteps, even the distinction of their knocking pattern.

It was a rainy afternoon, and she sat near her window. She wore a long white Victorian nightgown she found in her closet, her hair was up in a messy bun, her lips were dry, and her face was still pale but not like the past few days when she looked like a corpse rose from her grave. Hermione hugged her knees close to her as she traced her full name on her foggy window with her forefinger while she hummed the song that she danced with Harry when they were hunting Horcruxes. She stared at the raindrops on her glass window.

The cold temperature that crawled into her bedroom made her body ache a bit. A series of tolerable pain throbbed under the yellowish-green coloured spots on her skin. Time caused her skin to have such colour. Some parts of her body were still bruised from that incident, and the memory of it was clear as crystal in her head. It would replay itself against her will during her sleep, waking her up sweaty and catching for air. She usually would wander her eyes around her bedroom before she sleeps and after she wakes up from a nightmare about it to make sure she was alone and safe.

Hermione rocked herself as she sat there when someone knocked on her door, distracting her.

"Narcissa," Hermione whispered to herself, as she identified her from her footsteps and the way she knocked.