No good options; just worse and worse until she thought she was going to finally just have a mental breakdown.
She couldn't stop thinking about it, and every time she reviewed the options again she felt as though she were going to be violently ill.
Malfoy cast a diagnostic charm on her eyes and studied it.
"How much can you see now?" he asked.
Hermione laughed abruptly.
She had no idea when she'd last laughed. Years before, most likely. But the question was funny. Hilarious even.
Everything in her life was a complete and utter horror, and somehow Malfoy's first concern was her eyesight. He kept her prisoner in his house, raped her on command, and he was concerned about her vision.
She couldn't stop laughing. It kept going on and on and growing increasingly hysterical sounding and then she wasn't laughing she was actually crying. She was crying and crying and crying, while she rocked on the edge of her bed, and Malfoy just stood there the whole time; staring at her, expressionless.
It took her twenty minutes before she finally stopped sobbing. Then she just sat there, hiccoughing and holding her hands over her eyes as she tried breathe. She felt as though she were hollow inside; as though she had sobbed out everything inside of her and all that was left was a shell.
Finally she was quiet but for an occasional hitching of her breath as she stared at the floor and wished she'd just die.
"Feel better?"
The corner of her mouth twitched and she shrugged tiredly.
"As close to better as I ever will," she said. She stared at his hands and noticed his fingers twitch subtly. She glanced up at him.
"What were you tortured for this time?" she asked.
He smirked as he slid his wand up into his right sleeve. "Clearly you haven't been following the news lately. The public, through their vast collective intelligence, has somehow concluded that I am the High Reeve, even without the confirmation of the Daily Prophet."
The news piqued her curiosity. "Because of Montague?"
He shrugged. "It may have been related, but I suspect it had more to do with my appearance in Romania coinciding with the High Reeve's visit. The press in some of the other European countries is considerably less controlled than Britain's. Once one paper starts saying it, it doesn't take long to spread. I am now publicly acknowledged as the Dark Lord's protege. The previous anonymity was for my protection, of course."
"Of course," Hermione said. "But you were punished for it."
"Other people are dead," he said, eyes cold, "I was merely chastised."
"So just two minutes of the cruciatus then?" Hermione said in a biting tone.
"Five."
Hermione felt herself pale with horror as she stared up at him. He gave a thin smile.
"Don't worry yourself on my account, my conscientious little healer. It was days ago. I live on."
There was a pause.
"Why did you kill Montague?" she asked. She had been lying in bed for days, and wondering about it. If he was going to kill Montague, why not have done it immediately? Why publicly?
Malfoy smirked. "I was wondering when you'd finally ask that question. I would have thought it was obvious. He blatantly and intentionally interfered and endangered my assignment, despite being repeatedly warned that you were not to be tampered with in any way. I would have done it more formally, but with my trip I was unfortunately short on time."
"So you killed him in the middle of St Mungos?" she said, eying him doubtfully.
"Well, I was going to kill him in his hospital room, but he tried to run. I improvised." Malfoy's expression was indifferent. "Now, if you're quite done barraging me with questions I believe we have a legilimency session scheduled."
He didn't go through her eyes. Hermione wasn't sure if there was any healing literature about using legilimency following an eye injury, but Malfoy apparently had decided not to risk it and just drove through her skull.
It hurt a bit more than it usually did, but once he had forced his way through, the pain eased somewhat. Hermione wished there were some way of dissociating while he sifted through her mind, but legilimency dragged the victim through the mind alongside the legilimens. Wherever Malfoy went inside her mind, so did Hermione.
She had no newly unlocked memories, only fresher repetitions of the old ones; especially Ginny crying. It felt like she dreamt of it every night. Always the same memory. It always stopped at the same point.
He seemed to almost hesitate before delving with her recent memories. Of Montague. Of Astoria. Of Stroud's questions before and after his arrival.
By the time he jerked his consciousness out of Hermione's mind, she felt as though she had collapsed inward upon herself. Reliving it all was traumatic enough to make her jaw clench until she felt as though her teeth might crack with trying to keep from shattering internally.
She rolled over onto her side and curled into a tight ball.