|The Caged Bird Sings
Author: DIVIDED-LEGION PM
With a deadly promise guiding the future of an unfortunate Draco Malfoy, his hope for survival rests on the mudblood shoulders of Hermione Granger; who seems reluctant to help her Hogwarts classmate. M for language/dark themes. Dramione fanfic.Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Tragedy - Hermione G. & Draco M. - Chapters: 21 - Words: 61,415 - Reviews: 52 - Favs: 39 - Follows: 27 - Updated: 09-02-11 - Published: 07-31-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7239751
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A caged bird stands on a grave of dreams
A morose thought is a thought that's hard to quell when one is facing nothing but gloom.
From beneath a mop of dirty brown hair, a pair of russet eyes stared out at nothing specific in the room that had become her jail cell. So many questions dug at her skin, working their way beneath the surface to squirm around and make her even more uncomfortable and distraught than she already was. So many 'what if' questions and pictures of horrible scenarios of what could have happened to Harry and Ron danced around in her head; but unlike visions of sugar plums and nutcracker princes, these images were hardly welcomed. The attempted escape had hardly gone as intended (like anything else they'd ever done went accordingly). The plan –as devised by Harry, Ron, and a very helpful Dobby- was to get Luna, Mr. Ollivander and Griphook out then Ron and Harry would somehow sneak up on Bellatrix, rescue her from the crazy witch and then apparate to safety. However, as is obviously pointed out by the dingily decorated dungeon the Malfoy's called a room; she hadn't made it out like the rest of them had. How was it that the brightest witch of her class could solve what seemed like the most impossible problems, and somehow end up in a situation like this? Ron would tell her that it was a little bit of her fault for not being fast enough, but that there was nothing she could have done. Harry would tell her that it wasn't her fault and maybe even mention great wizards like Dumbledore might have once found themselves in a miserable situation as such. Others (namely Malfoy and a few others) would tell her it was because she was a mudblood and therefore not good enough.
Closing her eyes and burying her face into her arms as they rested against her curled up knees, she tried to envision the entire scene again but just like every time she tried to analyze every little mistake in the situation, her memories only came up hazy; like she was staring into a fogged up mirror. Hermione wasn't quite sure how long it'd been since her entrapment, and for some reason she no longer cared. What good would knowing the difference between 8 am and 8 pm do her? And what hope of freedom could she possibly gain from the knowledge of whether or not it was Monday or Tuesday? Lost in her depressing thoughts she hardly heard (or simply refused to acknowledge) someone noisily walk down the hallway, arguing with a squeaky, high-pitched voice the whole way down.
Draco stood at the enhanced archway that kept his prisoner in her cell, watching her like a predator. The Dark Lord's words still slid around his skull like that big snake of his, hissing at him and scolding him for letting his parents fail to contain the Potter boy and his redheaded friend. He could still feel Voldemort's long and bony fingers as they gripped his arm. At the thought of their 'conversation', the snow-haired Malfoy shuddered. His spasm caused the silverware on the plate he held to clatter to the floor which made the mudblood look up. Bending down to grab the fallen fork and knife he looked up and scrunched his face up into an unpleasant sneer at the burning glare that Granger was sending in his direction. Straightening up he spat at her,
"What the hell are you looking at, mudblood?"
The tenor of hate was deftly clear in his voice and she almost recoiled from the venomous tone but rather than letting him get her on the ground and kick her while she was down there, she slowly stood up, ignoring the aches and pains of inactive muscles. Squaring her shoulders she lifted her chin as proudly as any prisoner could and dared to taunt,
"I was wondering why you –the great and privileged Draco Malfoy- bothered to come down and eat his dinner in front of the starving prisoner."
Scoffing at Gryffindor's response he rolled his eyes and put on a smug expression and spoke with absolute gloating of his obvious freedom in his voice,
"Actually, the great Draco Malfoy was coming here to give this to you because as of right now you are no good to him dead." He paused for a moment and picked up a steamed carrot and ate it slowly, "but I'm really glad you made that suggestion because I'm hungry and the house elves have been slaving over this meal all day."
Suspicion replaced the wavering hatred on Hermione's face as she eyed the platter of food. To her starved stomach, which gurgled and cramped at the sight of the food, the meal looked absolutely delicious. She did her best to hide the hunger in her hollow eyes as she stalked closer to the doorway without a door and stopped just a few feet away from where Malfoy slouched against the entrance, looking so relaxed and so carefree, even though he was practically dangling a steak in the face of a starved lioness –everyone knows that charms and hexed doorways can only keep a determined animal from a meal for so long. Desperation is a starving man's fuel. Biting her lip for a moment she asked,
"And why would I be no good to you dead?"
Draco simply laughed at her question and walked into the room only to put the plate on one of the two tables in there then walked back passed the line that Hermione could not cross. Turning around to look at his prisoner before he left, he shot her a crooked, cruel smile and simply said,
"Because I said so."
And before she had a moment to question him again (which would only irritate him further), he melded into the dark hallway and was gone. Standing there in her room, alone once more, she wrapped an arm around her torso and stared at the steaming platter of food. Even though her mouth watered to the point where she was sure if she dared open it to speak, she'd drool all over herself, Hermione was still greatly suspicious of the food. What if he put poison in the food and planned to watch her die slowly in certain agony as the poison worked its way through her system like a slow-moving fire? Or worse, what if he'd put couple drops of veritaserum in it and planned to ask her all about hers, Ron's, and Harry's quest to destroy Voldemort's horcruxes? Clenching her teeth she spit at the food finally and growled at it,
"No. You are just a front for something far more horrible. I will not indulge in your temptations, regardless of how hungry I am."
And with that, she offered it a quick nod as if agreeing with her decision and shuffled back to the corner she'd curled herself up in earlier before Malfoy came and interrupted her deep thought with his mind games and attempted murder. Still, even though she could no longer see the food, its smell had wafted around the room and try as she might, she could not banish the food-demons from her mind. Gritting her teeth she told herself that by giving in to his tempting act of fake kindness, he'd win just one of many battles in this war of wills. Eventually she dragged herself over to the poorly set up mattress that she called her bed and fell into a restless sleep plagued by nightmares ranging from dreams of a helpless Harry and Ron in the face of danger to Malfoy poisoning the food he gave her. Hours later she jolted awake and forgot where she was and frantically ran towards the enchanted archway in a half-sleep panic. There was barely any time spent out of the room before the magic kicked in and flung her backwards into the room at a furious rate. Stars danced in front of her eyes as Hermione groaned and rolled over, clutching her head to keep the pain from growing. It was at that very moment that a voice she didn't particularly want to hear reached her ears,
"My, my, Granger. I thought you had better sense than to run right into the enchantments that kept you in," he eyed the still full plate of now cold food and sighed heavily.
"Fuck you, Malfoy."
Walking with an irritated hitch in his stride into the room he grabbed the full plate in a huff of anger and handed it off to one of the house elves that'd tailed him down the hallway and demanded a plate of fresh food. Looking back at Hermione, she had finally sat back up and only held one hand to her head as opposed to both. Tutting quietly Draco narrowed his eyes and asked,
"Why haven't you eaten the food I gave you, Granger?"
"Because I know you," she snapped back.
A feigned pout pushed his bottom lip out as Draco replied with blatant apathy, "Oh, really? And here I was hoping that you'd be glad that I haven't killed you yet like I should have, be lured into a sense of trust and at least keep yourself from starving to death. Really, if you wanted to die so badly you could have just told me."
"Go to hell."
Rolling his eyes at her uncreative comeback he turned around and grabbed the new plate of food from the house elf that'd left just moments before with the old food and put the new plate back on the table. Looking at the food for a moment then to Granger, Draco questioned,
"What? Are you afraid that I've put something in the food that'll…make you spill the truth behind your darkest secrets or die a slow and horrible death?"
Her lack of reply was enough to confirm his question. Grumbling angrily at her stupidity and muttering a few curse words under his breath he marched back over to where the food was and took a bite out of one of the turkey legs and said,
"Still alive, and not spilling the truth, now eat –or I'll force feed you like a baby, and let's face it…that would hardly be enjoyable for you or me. So let's pretend that you're a big girl and you can feed yourself. I'll be back in a few hours."
He left as quickly and quietly as he came and once again Hermione was left alone in the room with no view with the enticing plate of food. Her fuzzy mind put up a few more feeble arguments before instinct beat out logic and she quickly stood up and grabbed the food and retreated back to her corner. The dirty locks of brown hair fell into her face as she scrunched over the elaborately decorated, gold-leafed plate. Food had never tasted to delicious in her life and her stomach, for once, finally stopped it's painful protest. And even though she was deeply grateful for the food, one question burned in her mind: why the hell was Malfoy feeding her five-star meals like he was planning to fatten her up like Hansel and Gretel before cooking her?
A/N: WELL. There's the start to this story. I would like to confess that this is my first fanfic! I am going to try my damnedest to not make updates excruciatingly slow. But I am an ADD person, which means so is my muse. But I really hope that for anyone that reads this, you stick around! Title of the fanfic annnddd the chapter title were inspired by Maya Angelou's I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings. I'm uncreative, so bite me. REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW! I wanna hear your feedback :D