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"And now he refuses to come down." Mrs Malfoy finished.
Harry and Ron shared a look, as the small group continued to trudge up the never-ending staircase.
"In all due respect Mrs Malfoy," Harry began, "I still don't think Ron and me-"
"Ron and I." She interrupted.
Ron rolled his eyes and huffed, "What Harry's trying to say, Ms Malfoy, is that 'Draco' is a ferrety little git of 'whom' we hate, and who hates us. There are other people for this kinda stuff... Like, you know, a med-wizard?"
Ron swore in surprise as Harry wacked him not-so-subtly upside the head. Mrs Malfoy lip tightened, but said nothing, as the boys broke into a mini fight behind her.
After an age, the steps finally petered out to an aging red door.
Mrs Malfoy rested a hand on the handle, and turned to face the two young men nursing their bruises below her.
"I asked you here, because despite your... dislike of my son. You are the only ones who I could think to help. None of my Draco's friends will help. And everyone else I have consulted has sent me away. Mr Potter you owe me debt. If you help me in this matter we will consider it to be paid. If you do not help," her hand tightened on the door handle, "then I will be forced to persuade you."
With that, she threw open the door, sending the room beyond alive with a fluttery of feathers. As startled owls took flight in every direction.
