When We Were Beasts

Before: Part Nine

As soon as her feet brushed across the carpeted floor, Hermione collapsed.

She was shaking. She could still feel the monster's claws on her arms, it's breath heating her neck. The threat of being a beast's dinner still felt imminent.

Hermione hadn't realized she had curled in on her knees until Malfoy was there, trying to pry her open.
"Granger, it's alright." Malfoy cooed, again and again. Strong arms wrapped around her, trying to ground her to the present, but her mind was still there in that darkness. His words were garbled nonsense.
Hermione's mind was anywhere but there on that carpeted floor.

She was writhing around on the Malfoy's fresh marbled floor, Bellatrix standing over her as Harry and Ron screamed for her.

She was running through the carnage of her beloved school as it fell around her.

She was there, stabbing Hannah Abbott.

She was wrapped in Flint's screams as his flesh was ripped apart, the payment for her freedom.

"We should go back to the cabin," Hermione said suddenly, her voice not her own. It was distant, detached. She wasn't thinking. Hermione was just picturing that beautiful meadow and that warm fire and the scent of pastries. Four walls that would feel like a haven. "We can find our way back and wait there and eat Apple Turnovers until someone saves us." She licked her lips. "Yes, we can- we can surely find it again-"

Malfoy's hands grasped her face.
"Granger, don't slip on me now, not when our alliance has just begun. Not when I've just chosen you." He forced her eyes to meet his. "I know this is hard. This is traumatic and terrifying. But there are much worse things to come, and if you cannot manage a few monsters, I'm afraid you won't survive." Malfoy leaned close enough that their noses almost brushed. "And you're a survivor, aren't you?"

When Hermione breathed in, she was enveloped in the odor of icy apples & magical manipulation. Malfoy didn't truly care that Hermione was going into shock and breaking apart. He needed her strong so he could use her to get to the end of this. If she broke apart, she couldn't serve him.

"Is this just a rat race, Malfoy?" Hermione whispered. "Are we all just running in circles, destined to die by the faceless masters poisoned hand? Is this all for nothing?" Tears welled in her eyes. She was so, so tired of crying.

"No." Malfoy said, almost fiercely. "Everything the Dark Lord does is for a reason. He loves a good spectacle, but not just for the fun of the game. He wants us to learn a lesson here before he deals with us personally."

"How can you know that his lesson isn't the very creation of this place? Maybe the lesson is that we're meant to die here, murdering our friends, because we fought against him."

"Then he wouldn't give us tools to move us along. He would have shown his face so we could see him in all his glory as we starved and ran in circles until we died." His nostrils flared. "No, if he's giving us brooms and potions and charmed bags then it's for a reason. And I think it's to let one of us win."

Malfoy's eyes roamed her face, and she caught the way they darkened over her lips for the half-heartbeat he dared look there. Her stomach dipped. She was tempted to lick her lips just to keep his gaze on them. Shame filled her like hot coals as she caught herself.

She hadn't thought of Ron once since she awoke a week ago. Hermione had thought of Harry and her family, but her thoughts of Ron and their relationship were wispy at best. Nothing but background noise. How could she not be concerned about his fate? For all she knew he was fighting to get back to her. He could be here, in this very maze, working to find her. And she was thinking of ways to keep Draco Malfoy looking at her lips. Hermione pulled away from him.