The Cell

Chapter 8: Day 16, Decline

Tell me your secrets

Give me a friend

Let all the good times flood in

Do I love you?

Do I hate you?

I can't make up my mind

So let's freefall

See where we land

- Ed Sheeran, Where We Land

They slept together twice more before Malfoy had the presence of mind to ask about protection, at which she rolled her eyes and informed him she was on a three-month potion that she had taken not long before being captured. It was the same reason she hadn't menstruated since being here – though she didn't mention that part. She also brought up the small fact that she would likely be dead within a week or two, so pregnancy was hardly a concern.

It was after one such interlude when they were lying entangled in one another's arms that she confessed how poorly she was beginning to feel. The aching in her forearm had bled into her whole limb and she was in a near constant state of feeling too hot or too cold.

"I'm not sure we should..." she trailed off, gesturing vaguely at their bodies. While she was satisfied, more than satisfied if she was honest, she was also beyond knackered and she feared pushing herself would only speed things along.

"It's okay," he said after a moment, dropping a kiss on her temple and pulling her in closer. While they hadn't discussed it in as many words, Hermione had spent a great deal of time pondering the change in their relationship.

He was still moody and antagonistic, she would be daft to expect that to change, but he had also softened toward her. Whether it was because he was developing genuine feelings of affection, or because she was literally dying, she couldn't be sure. Either way, it was nice.

"Can I ask you for something?" she inquired, twisting in his arms so she could look at his face.

"You can ask, but I won't promise I'll do it."

She rolled her eyes before continuing. "I was wondering... I quite like my name you see, my first name that is. Considering you're probably the last person I'll ever speak to..."

She chewed her lip, anxiously studying his face to gauge his reaction.

"I wasn't aware it bothered you," he said, looking down at her, eyebrows pulled together slightly.

"It doesn't really... but despite years of being teased for it, I'm fond of my given name. It reminds me of my mum, she named me after a character in her favorite play."

"Alright, I can do that... Hermione."

She didn't expect the way her stomach would flutter as he said it. It seemed foreign coming from his lips, but it warmed something in her.

"Thank you... Draco."

oOoOoOo

Days passed. While their extracurricular physical activities had ceased as quickly as they began, their conversations didn't. The weight of what was happening sank upon both of them and, in an attempt to lessen the burden, they said all the things they hadn't before. All the things they needed to tell somebody before there was no one left to tell.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder if, despite how terrible she was feeling, the pain she was in, she might be getting the better end of the deal. When she died, Draco would be alone. Totally alone. She could only hope the elf would take her body so he didn't have to bear the process of witnessing her decompose.