Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

Wimbourne Wasps, Chaser 3: The Explorer- Fear: entrapment / Prompts: 5. (emotion) hopeful, 8. (color) gold, 9. (dialogue) "Go to sleep."

HA - Aquatic Studies: Task 1 - hammerhead shark: write about being scared of something or someone

a/n: the title is a reference to the biblical verse matthew 11:28. i also have realized i never finished this collection and so this is technically a dramione uh here, swear the next one is gonna be fluff! hope you'll enjoy this!

Warnings: a kidnapping has occurred, no mentions of how, it's already happened

Wordcount: 1790

come to me, and i will give you rest

If there was one thing Hermione had always loved, it was rules.

Rules were her guide to life.

They taught her what behavior was acceptable and what was not.

She had never been a socially adept child, choosing to spend her productive years with her head stuck in books rather than playing with the other neighborhood girls. Her parents were not unhappy with her love for reading and learning, but they certainly weren't happy with her lack of social relationships.

Friends were unnecessary, she had argued on various occasions over dinner whenever her parents expressed their concerns. There was nothing in the rules stating friends would help her development or her education. However, learning to work with others was a necessity, and so she went three times a week to one of the girls' homes to work on socializing.

This meant playing house.

Oh, how she hated it.

There was no fun in acting as the housewife waiting for her husband to come home or the baby who was tossed back and forth like a doll.

But the worst role had to be the pet.

The neighborhood girls were downright awful. Not only were their grades terrible, but their personalities were rotten too. Whenever they could get away with it, she would always be the pet.

You're our little bookworm, aren't you?

Jealousy was a disease and people often succumbed to it. These girls were no exception. Hermione didn't blame them. While her parents urged her to be more social, the girls' parents surely placed Hermione as an example to follow. Naturally, they would take out their frustrations on her—the pet to whom they could mistreat as they saw fit because she was an animal.

Hermione had determined then that friends were indeed not necessary.

And so her life continued in this mindset.

She worked with others when needed to, but no more than that. This attitude neither hindered or helped her education. She went to university just fine and worked to help pay her tuition like most college students. Her coworkers at the coffee shop were only coworkers. She was on good terms on them, but not good enough that one of them would question why she would suddenly quit her job. Her peers from university had been mildly surprised when she no longer showed up for her lectures, but they too did not question her leave of absence.

Maybe if she had put more importance on the concept of friends, things wouldn't have gone the way they did.

Hermione's fingernails claw at the blankets wrapped around her as she startles awake, alone in the darkness, and she slaps a hand over her mouth so that she doesn't make a noise. Where is she?

Sweat drips down her chest and back, her gold nightgown sticking uncomfortably onto her body as she peers over the bed. She sees nothing but dark wood floors.

This is not her dorm.

That's when her memories come flooding back like a bitter pill.

Draco Malfoy.

She's at the penthouse.

Hermione's in her room—no, the room she was given because she was uncomfortable sleeping with him—in the penthouse where she's been for the past months.

She presses a hand to her mouth to stop yesterday's dinner from rising back. She's been so complacent lately. It's been more than two weeks since her last escape attempt. Or was it less? She can't remember. She wants to say she's been here for four months at least, but she can't be certain. Days bleed into one another and weeks turn into months when she has no way of keeping track.

There's no way she can stay here any longer.

She has to get out before she loses her sanity in this place.

She knows it's dark but has no concept of the time. It doesn't matter anyway, it's time, it's time to leave. It's now or never.

With her heart in her throat, she steps out of bed, taking careful steps to the door. She has never opened a door more slowly in her entire life than she does now. She wills it not to creak and closes her eyes when it soundlessly opens. This isn't her dorm where the slightest of movements causes the floor to creak and the door to groan from years of rust. It's a fancy, brand new penthouse. She doesn't dare breathe a sigh of relief, fearing he'll hear it somehow from his room, even when she knows he should be fast asleep right now.

She makes her way down the hallway to the front door. She can't hear her own bare feet padding against the floor with how loud her heart is beating in her ears. It beats so fast it slams against her ribcage, leaving her breathless. She thinks this is what it feels to run a marathon, yet she is only taking one step every twenty seconds. The entrance is fairly close to her room. Had she been walking normally she would've reached it in less than a minute. Now, with her life on the line? It's a five minute journey.

It'll be worth it. Once she unlocks the door she'll be free to bolt and never look back.

From her previous attempts, she knows the only way to enter or leave this apartment is with a code. That's where she went wrong the first time. Without the code, the door is an iron wall.

But she knows the code, she knows it.

Her feet feel lighter than air, almost as if she's floating, and her heart slowly comes to a reasonable pace.

With all the precautions Draco's taken to make sure she can't escape, he's chosen terrible bodyguards. Crabbe and Goyle are so brainless that she's been managing to put together the entire code bit by bit every time one of them leaves to run an errand or go meet Draco somewhere.

Her fingers tremble as she pushes the pads of the keyboard, cringing at how loud the beeping sounds.

This is it, isn't it?

9.

5.

Her stomach flips and churns, and it's not out of fear for once, but hope.

8.

5.

Green has never been one of her favorite colors, and it never will be seeing how Draco practically lives in the color, but she's never been happier to see it on the screen.

5.

3.

Tears fall silently down her face when the door beeps one final time, and a green light lights up the entire screen before an audible clicking sound is heard.

She allows herself to smile.

This is it.

She's finally free.

She grabs the handle of the door, pushing it open and the outside is so blindingly bright she recoils for a second.

That's all he needs.

The second of hesitation.

Hermione takes one breath of freedom before it is cruelly ripped from her hands as she's dragged back into the cold, dark apartment by her hair. It stings, but her regret burns more.

Draco is yelling at her, and she can hardly process it. Her mind registers it slowly because he has never once yelled at her, never once raised his voice other than the hissing he does when she breaks the rules. His eyes are wild with an emotion she has never seen in them but recognizes instantly.

She sees it every time she stares into a mirror.

He's scared.

Hermione loses it. How can he be scared? She's the one being held captive against her will! She's the one who has been ripped away from her life! So then, can someone tell her why he looks so hurt?

She can't help the manic laughter that bursts out of her.

She laughs and laughs and laughs until she's screaming and thrashing in his hold.

"Let me go! Get away from me!" Hermione tries to rip herself from his hold, but he's grabbing her so hard and tight she can almost feel the bruises forming. "Let me go!"

Draco slams the door shut with a kick of his leg. Darkness clouds her vision and he drags her to his room. With a sob, she realizes she can't ever match his strength. He flicks the light on and tosses her to his bed. She scrambles to sit up, but he's too fast. With a painful grip and a sorry smile, she feels a piercing pain on her upper thigh.

"It's okay, Hermione, it's for your own good." Draco's voice is so tender she can't connect it to the man who kidnapped her just because she was the only one who treated and served him at the shop without a trace of fear.

Her job. She was simply doing her job. Is this what she gets for treating everyone without judgement? Somewhere in the depths of her memories is a little girl learning to treat everyone fairly if she wanted to be treated the same way; it was one of the rules of her household.

"Y-You stay away from me," she pleads, kicking her arms and legs in a futile attempt. He holds her legs down effortlessly and lets her slap his arms with the strength she has left. It does nothing.

"Oh, look at you, 'Mione." He sighs and releases his hold, but it does her no good. Her limbs feel heavier and her vision blurs. "You've gotten your nightgown dirty. It's okay. You have plenty of clean ones left. And I haven't forgotten, they're in gold, your favorite color."

Hermione's tired now. She can't muster up the energy to respond.

"I'll forgive you for breaking the rules, don't worry. I know you love them, it's okay. I'll look the other way for this."

She doesn't care about rules, doesn't care about upholding them anymore. She hates the rules, hates that she has to follow them or else she'll be punished. She's not allowed to use technology because he knows she's crafty and will find a way to communicate to the outside world. She's not allowed to watch the news or use the TV, only allowed to watch from the many streaming subscriptions because she'll figure out the exact day and time it is. She's not allowed to starve herself because there's a private doctor who will treat her so she'll never get near a real hospital meaning she shouldn't try that method again. She's not allowed to be in any place alone save for her room. There's so many more, but none of them matter.

Perhaps they never did.

Or perhaps she's simply fallen out of love with them.

Her eyes droop without her consent.

"Close your eyes, little pet." There's a hand stroking her hair and she feels a brief touch of lips on her cheek. "Go to sleep."