The Unbreakable Vow

The Cell

"What a... precarious situation you've found yourself in, Granger."

Hermione's head snapped toward the stranger's voice and watched in disbelief as Draco Malfoy strolled into her dungeon, toying with a set of keys in his hands. She caught glimpses of his face as he passed the dimly lit candles that hung in intervals against the wall. His blonde hair, almost white in its hue, was groomed and neat, his suit so immaculate it looked wrong within the filth of this prison, so black that he resembled a shadow more than a man. He wore an expression that Hermione couldn't quite place.

She looked around for the guards, who were meant to be watching her, but they were gone from their usual post. Now that she thought about it, it'd been a while since she'd heard the stomp of their boots on the stone floor.

It didn't take Draco long before he reached the bars of her cell. He peered down at where Hermione sat on the floor, her shackles clinging miserably at her sides.

She tried to remember how long she'd been held captive - at first, she'd been counting her days locked down here, but she'd lost interest after the tenth day. That must've been at least three days ago she stopped etching marks into the wall.

She was suddenly very aware of how she must look to him. Dirt and grime was visible on every inch of her exposed skin. The clothes they'd given her - made of a rough material and hardly covered her modestly - were also caked in dirt.

She tried not to let him see her weakness. She sat up straighter, using the wall to keep her from slumping over. She knew her face must be gaunt from her hunger, but her meals, which appeared magically twice a day, were table scraps at best and did little to stave her appetite. She became stoic as Malfoy looked down at her. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her desperation.

"What do you want," she nearly spat at him. Hatred coursed through her at the sight of him so close.

He clicked his tongue at her. "Now, now. That's no way to speak to your rescuer."

Her 'rescuer' was a war criminal - a sympathizer to a powerful wizard, responsible for the deaths of hundreds, possibly thousands. If it were her dying wish, she only wanted some power back in her feeble bones to maul whatever part of him she could reach.

With the key in his hands, Draco unlocked her cell door and walked in, pulling it back behind him with a *click*. The power dynamic wasn't lost on her - she sat, half clothed and freezing on the ground while he stood tall above her, with the literal keys to her freedom now jingling in his pocket.

He knelt in front of her and all she could do was pull against her chains in a useless attempt to free herself from his pitying gaze.

"Your taunting is cruel, Malfoy," she said through clenched teeth. It was useless to point out his cruelty, though. He knew who he was. "Here to finish the job yourself?"

She could see his face more clearly, now that he was mere inches away from her. His grey eyes were a pool of ice, as cold as his heart.

"You jump to conclusions too freely," Draco tutted. "I'm only here to make you an offer." He contemplated something for a moment before adding, "Or rather, a request in exchange for your freedom."

It'd been days since she had allowed herself to hope for freedom. Her thoughts had flitted between recaps of the war and thoughts about the remaining members of the Order. She mourned silently in her cell for all of those she was certain had been lost, and she mourned the ones that they'd undoubtedly lost since her incarceration. She wondered if there'd be anyone left to mourn for her when she was gone.

Her fight instinct wanted to yell at him to go to hell, to kick and scream and show that she was still fighting for her cause. But her empty stomach and her weakened body and the aches in her wrists begged her to follow any opportunity that could save her from her impending death.