Devil Doesn't Bargain

The Wand

The light didn't burn as much this time.

The next morning, Malfoy announced that she'd been given a room in the manor; it wasn't even locked. Hermione didn't feel relieved. It was just another way to remind her that she belonged to the dark lord. It's not like she could go anywhere.

The shower was nice, though. When Malfoy left her, saying he'd return in an hour for her training, she practically ran to the bathroom. Warm water had never felt so good, and she spent most of the hour scrubbing the layers of grime off of her. When she stepped out of the steam, she found a small stack of clothes on the counter with a note:

I'm begging you–throw out those horrible rags you've been wearing. They're absolutely pungent. This is your new uniform.

-M

Hermione scowled at the parchment. Leave it to Malfoy to complain about her clothes. What a drama queen.

As the steam cleared, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and winced. She looked wretched. The dark circles were looking permanent, and her skin appeared almost grey after her little holiday in the dungeons. She hastily tied up her hair and adjusted the straps of her uniform. Completely clad in black, the uniform consisted of skin-tight trousers, a complicated vest with over a dozen pockets, and a pair of heavy combat boots. She looked...dangerous.

"Shit."

Hermione whipped around to face the door and found Malfoy leaning against the frame. "What?"

He shrugged and tossed her mask at her. "Nothing. Let's go."

Hermione blinked, but let it go. They had more important things to discuss. "Where are we going?"

"Second floor. There's a training room," he scratched at his side, "and wards to protect the manor from anything we might do in there."

She narrowed her eyes. "Like fire?"

"Sure. Or water, explosions, vanishing, etc. It's perfectly suited to handle your Gryffindor rage."

"I don't have Gryffindor rage."

"Sure."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"With pleasure."

He tilted his head for her to follow him out of the room, and they trudged up to the training room. Just as he said, the room was impenetrable. She could feel the sizzle of magic when she stepped through the door, and couldn't help but be impressed. The Malfoys were certainly thorough.

She turned in a slow circle to take it all in. On the far wall rested a rack of weapons, from knives to javelins, throwing stars to scimitars. To her left was a series of circles, drawn on the floor for some reason. On the other side was a large cabinet. She couldn't see what was inside, but she was strangely drawn to it.

Malfoy saw her small step towards it and gestured for her to continue. "Go on."

She rushed forward and ripped one side open. Wands. So many of them...there had to be at least a hundred on this side alone. A shiver rushed down her spine and she looked over her shoulder.

"Can I..."

He nodded. "I can't fix your original, so this is the best I can do. The dark lord cannot expect you to fight for him if you don't have a wand."

She turned back to the cabinet and barely held in her tears. A wand. She would have a wand again, after months and months of no magic. Her hands shook as she reached forward. She had a strange sense of deja vu, and heard old Ollivander's voice whispering, the wand chooses the wizard.