A Lamb to the Slaughter

Womanhood

TW: Mentions of torture & violence against women
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"Get up."

The sharp words had barely pricked Hermione's consciousness before she found herself suddenly soaked with ice cold water.

She gasped as she clawed her way out of the sheets, her shoulder slamming into the ground. "What the hell-"

"Put on the dress hanging up beside the tub." Narcissa's tone left no room for debate. When Hermione finally pushed back the wet curls that blinded her, she found the woman staring at her with a fierce expression.

Narcissa reminded Hermione so much in that moment of the pale girl from her dreams.

Narcissa was wearing black. She never wore black. Pevensy had whispered once, when Hermione had asked why none of her items were darker than a soft grey or earth brown, that Narcissa hated her maiden name so much she refused to associate with the color. It couldn't mean anything good for her to be wearing it head to toe now.

Hermione swallowed as she stood there, soaked and shivering to the bone. When Narcissa saw that she wasn't moving, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I'm not here having you get dressed because a House has called on you. You're getting out of this room and going on a walk with me."

Hermione blinked. "A...walk?"

"Yes. The thing we humans do where we move one foot in front of the other."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. She felt something rear its head underneath the icy numbness in her chest. "I know what a walk is." Hermione dead-panned. "Why are we going on one is my question."

"Because you need to get out of this stuffy room, and Pevensy nor my son will force you." She gave her a cold smile. "But I will. So bathe, put on the dress, and walk with me."

Hermione thought Narcissa would perhaps wait outside, but instead she perched herself delicately on the dry edge of the bed, staring at her expectantly.

Hermione huffed, her energy already drained despite being awake for only a few minutes. Bathing, walking, conversing...it all sounded so tiring.

Slowly, and yet as quickly as she could make herself move, Hermione sank into the hot vanilla-scented water, washing her hair and body. She forced herself to brush her teeth for the first time in days, her mouth a bloody mess. Her hands ached as she kept them up to braid her wet hair into a crown around her head. She hadn't realized how little she'd eaten when the dress hung loosely around her arms and midsection. When the calf-high boots no longer hugged her muscles. Not that she had the energy to care.

Hermione finally emerged from the bathroom. Narcissa stood up and circled her once before stopping in front of her.

"Malfoy green looks good on you." Was all she said as she flicked her wand. Hermione felt the velvet material tighten and hug all of her curves, fitting her like a glove. "And you smell much better, too. Like vanilla and cranberries. To be honest my dear it was a little unbearable when I first came in."

With that, she turned on her heel and opened the door, motioning for Hermione to walk in front.

She was already exhausted. When they passed the landing where she could hear Draco playing piano, Hermione almost considered calling out to him just so he could advocate for her. But Narcissa seemed to read her like a book, for she nudged her in the shoulder and muttered, "He's not helping you today, dear girl."

By the time Hermione pushed the doors open, she had become so numb inside that she barely felt the Autumn wind cutting into her exposed face and fingers. She stopped walking and turned to Narcissa.