Playing with Fire

Chapter 5: Not a Guest

Song: My Little Dark Age - MGMT

Hermione awoke to a loud POP in the room and jerked so hard that she hit her skull on the stone wall behind her.

“Shit”, she muttered, touching the back of her head and pulling her hand away to find dots of red blood on her fingertips.

“Prisoner is injured?“, Bopsy squeaked in panic, “Prisoner is not supposed to being hurt! Let Bopsy help prisoner!“, she said shuffling forward quickly towards Hermione.

Prisoner is not supposed to be hurt? That didn’t sound like Lucius Malfoy at all, or the one she knew at least.

Bopsy disapparated and then came back with supplies to clean the blood off of the back of Hermione’s head. “Thank you Bopsy”, she told her, hesitantly picking at the bandages Bopsy had placed, which didn’t seem to be sticking due to her thick curls in the way.

“Prisoner is not being hurt no more?“, Bopsy asked. Hermione shook her head no. It was a lie. That hurt like a bitch, but it wasn’t really Bopsy’s fault. It wasn’t Bopsy’s fault that Hermione was trapped in a dungeon. She was simply doing what she was forced to.

“Prisoner is needing anything then?“, she asked her curiously.

“I have some questions actually”, Hermione told her, crossing her legs in front of her to try and stop the pain her tailbone was feeling from the floor.

“Bopsy is not to answer questions! No! Bopsy cannot-“, she panicked.

Hermione grabbed Bopsy’s little hand softly, “It’s okay Bopsy, I...won’t ask questions. But can you give me answers - not to questions of course” She knew she would have to word it carefully to get around Bopsy’s orders and not get her in trouble.

Bopsy seemed confused but hesitantly nodded, which was enough for Hermione.

“We’re in Malfoy Manor...“, Hermione stated, and Bopsy nodded in response.

“I see”, she responded. “I’ve been here for days”, she paused to study Bopsy. Bopsy didn’t respond. “I’ve been here for...weeks?“, she tried not to make it sound like a question. Bopsy hesitantly nodded her head yes.

“Why am I here then?“, she asked, forgetting that she couldn’t actually ask questions, but it was too late. Bopsy had already gone into a frenzy.

“Bopsy cannot! Must not answer questions for prisoner!“, Bopsy cracked.

“Okay, shhhh I’m sorry Bopsy!“, Hermione tried to calm the house elf down but she was still shaking. “No more questions, I promise”, Bopsy nodded softly in response, tears of fear still lingering in her large eyes.

She slowly stood on shaky legs and turned to lift up her shirt and show Bopsy the bruises that littered her back and spine from sleeping on the hard floor.

“This isn’t a question, more a request”, Hermione began, “my back is hurt from sleeping on the floor. Could I have somewhere more comfortable to sleep?”

“The mudblood is not deserving anything! The mudblood is a prisoner, not a guest! The mudblood is not deserving of anything!“, Bopsy shouted as if it had been memorized.

Hermione huffed in frustration. “Well then. Tell Master Malfoy I would like a word with him. As soon as possible.”

Bopsy looked unsure, and then disapparated without a word.

“FUCK!“, Hermione shouted at the walls.

The only thing she knew was that she was in Malfoy Manor. She had been there for weeks apparently, but how many?

She laid her head back on the wall but cringed when it made contact with the wound. She ground her teeth together angrily and stared at the plate of stale food next to her. She kicked it hard enough that it flew across the room with a loud clang.

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