Twisted people

The bet

In the next two hours Hermione managed to scrub all the blood from her skin, bite the tips of her nails away, chew her inner cheek until she could taste copper, pluck off the frayed ends of her hair and walk across the room back and forth a hundred times. Shortly after Malfoy left the room she started to feel truly anxious and after the first half hour she started doubting everything he said. Was it some kind of trap? What if someone saw them apparating away together and rat them out? Would they punish him? Torture him? Kill him? What if he would never come back? Could someone else get into the room? Was it even warded? Suddenly she felt a heavy regret that she had left her knife in the forest before.

The elf followed her every step the whole time. He plucked little twigs and leaves out of Hermione's hair, helped her clean the area around her wound, healed the little scratches on her skin. He didn't talk much. The only thing he shared with her was that Malfoy was his only master and that he had resided in that room for months. Before that he served as Narcissa's personal house elf. Though when Hermione started sniffling about Malfoy's parents the elf fell into silence and hadn't spoken since although he managed to fetch her a bowl of bland chicken broth and hot tea. Probably because he was tired of listening to her unsatisfied stomach.

Six minutes after eight o'clock chimed when quiet knock disturbed their shared silence. Hermione's head shot to the elf. Was he expecting someone? Malfoy would surely never knock on his own door. It had to be someone else. Anxiety took over Hermione once more as she slowly stood up from the bed and surveyed the room for possible weapons. A letter knife on the table, an oil lamp on the nightstand, a flowerpot with dead plant in it and a chair.

Toby, on the other hand, seemed a little bit relieved by the intrusion. He obviously recognised the strange set of knocks as he immediately stood up from the chair and walked to the door. Maybe it was the room service. A cleaning lady perhaps?

It was neither. Instead a hooded woman stepped inside, closing the door after her quickly. She handed some small object to the elf and his ears twitched with excitement. It was wrapped in the golden wrapper and Hermione recognised it as a caramel snitch. Ginny's favourite candy.

"Thank you, little one." The woman spoke and Hermione hadn't had to wait for her to unmask the black bob that was hiding under the hood.

Her heart jumped. "Pansy!" Maybe she wasn't her favourite person in the world but she was definitely not the worst person that could step through that door. She was Malfoy's friend afterall. And if the man wanted Hermione dead, he would surely send someone else to do the dirty job. Maybe Goyle. Or Zabini who seemed to hate Hermione from the day they had met for no reason whatsoever.

"Granger." Pansy nodded in her direction, carrying a small bag in her hand whilst she crossed the room. She walked to the table, laid the bag down on it and started rummaging through its contents. "I heard that you are in quite of a hell situation and in desperate need of rescuing." She said lightly as she pulled out two vials full of thick looking liquid.

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Pansy only lifted up her finger, without even looking in the other's woman direction, to shut her up before speaking again. "You don't have to thank me yet, Granger. We are still deep in the lion's den."

Hermione scoffed. "More like snake's pit." She bit out.

"Pardon?" Pansy turned and looked Hermione up and down, giving her the chance to rethink her words.

"Nothing." Hermione squeezed out, feeling a little bit ashamed. Like a reprimanded child.

Pansy turned her attention back to the bag. "I've thought so." She said in bored voice.

Hermione coughed nervously before speaking again. "What's the plan th..."

A vile attack interrupted her words as someone soft and sweet smelling landed on her face. She quickly pulled it down from her head and took a look at it. It was a dress. A little bit medieval looking one. That kind that wore only older pureblooded witches those days, with long, wide sleeves in a trumpet style and thin, golden belt that was more rope than an actual belt. It was made out of a velvet material in forest green colour. Hermione knew only one young woman that would wear something like that.