The little elf nodded her head vigorously next to the tea service, ears flopping dangerously close to the sugar bowl.

She would not sleep in that bed. Not until she knew what was expected of her. With her concussion gone, all thoughts were supposed to be rational now.

Mippy cleared the tea as Narcissa moved to the doorway.

"Mrs. Malfoy," said Hermione, her heart thundering. "When am I to expect a visitor?"

Blunt. To the point. Perhaps Narcissa would appreciate that, despite the fact that Hermione may be asking about her own husband.

Narcissa's blue eyes hardened into ice, much closer to her son's hue. She folded her hands delicately in front of her waist.

"Let me be quite clear, Miss Granger." Hermione felt a chill dance down her spine, bracing herself for some kind of harsh fact, something about her place in this world now. "You are now under the protection of Narcissa Malfoy. No one will lay a finger on you in this house."

And with a stern lift of her brow, Narcissa Malfoy swept from the room, taking her doting house elf with her.

Hermione remained frozen for a minute before collapsing in her chair, mind racing. Absorbing.

It could be lies, of course. Something to make her trust the Malfoy matriarch. Something to settle her into security before the attack.

But there were biscuits on the end table. Pajamas that seemed to be hers. A miniature library at her disposal. And a bed. A bed that she was not meant to share.

Hermione stood. Looking around the room again. It was palatial, really. A guest suite meant for someone to be more than comfortable. Meant for someone to find no reason to leave, she realized.

Books, a private bath, a sitting area, and an attentive elf.

It was the nicest cell she could have hoped for.

She peeled the gold dress off, letting it pool on the floor. Slipping into the nightclothes was like cutting through butter, the satin warming to her skin with some kind of charm. She plucked the gold dress off the ground and paced to the fireplace, tossing the fabric inside and watching it burn away.

She approached the bed and paused. Fourteen pillows. That's what it looked like. Creams and golds. She peeled back the sheets, expecting to find a horse's head or some Muggle nonsense. Just a fluffy, welcoming mattress.

She stretched up on her tiptoes, folding herself into the bed, and still nothing happened. The mattress and pillows accepted her weight, like they had been waiting for her for some time.

She looked to the door, almost two room's lengths from the bed. She had a perfect view of it here, against the pillows. She lifted the Dreamless Sleep potion Mippy had left her, uncorked it and sniffed. It smelled like the real thing.

Under the protection of Narcissa Malfoy.

The same Narcissa Malfoy who had snuck into the castle to find her son as the Dark Lord boasted his victory from the courtyard. The same woman who'd talked of escaping, even as her side's army killed the generals from Hermione's.