Chapter Twenty-Nine

They stared up at the ceiling, neither speaking for what seemed hours, but—realistically—no more than a minute or two could've ticked past. The candelabras still in the room hadn't quite provided enough light, and so Lucius had once more illuminated his wand, giving Hermione warning enough that she was able to shield her eyes until she adjusted to the burst of brightness.

Being rather tall, he raised his wand arm as high as he could reach. They'd tipped back their heads in unison and simply gaped.

"Well . . . ." She started, forcing a little gulp down her throat. "That . . . that's . . . ."

"That's certainly a hole in the ceiling," he finished for her with a sharp nod.

"Um." She wasn't sure why the sight of the deep black circle set off a chill in the pit of her stomach, and yet it did. "If that's here then . . . where does it lead?"

"No idea, obviously." His answer came out a bit gruff, causing her to wonder if he'd been insulted at the question, as though she was sincerely asking him for an answer. "I do believe I'd recall happening across a gaping hole in one of the upper floors, Miss Granger."

Pursing her lips, she lowered her gaze from their proof that the dungeon had once, in fact, been an oubliette, and pivoted on her heel to face him.

After a breath, he seemed to feel the weight of her attention. Arching a brow, he turned his head, catching hers eyes.

"Mr. Malfoy," she started with a false calmness.

"Miss Granger."

Her shoulders slumped. "What sort of idiot do you take me for?"

His features pinched as he considered whether or not it would be in his own best interest to reply or to keep his thoughts to himself. He wanted to be snide, to say 'the sort cursed to an eternity as one of the undead?', instead, he considered the merit of not joking with a visibly irritated vampire.

"I don't take you for one at all, Miss Granger."

Hermione's brows lifted at his unexpected honesty. "What I meant wasn't 'would you happen to have nearly fallen into a random pit somewhere in your house as a child?' I meant were there perhaps any suspiciously never-used rooms, or maybe any that were walled up? Any place you were cautioned never to go? That you likewise told Draco never to go without ever really having investigated yourself?"

His responding expression didn't exactly inspire hope. "I'm afraid nothing comes to mind."

"Well . . . ." She hated what she was thinking, but they were all over the place. The sooner this particular question was answered, the sooner they could move on. And, yes, perhaps she was stalling just a little now on learning what horrors had been visited upon these poor lost souls. "I suppose the only way to know where that leads—or, more appropriately, where it starts—is for one of us to go up there."

Lucius let out a rich, barking chuckle at that notion. "Oh, Miss Granger, you can't be . . . ." His voice trailed off as he watched her hurry over to the table to retrieve one of the candelabras. Grey eyes wide and expression incredulous, he gaped at her as she pranced back to stand before him.

"C'mon," she said, making a good show of nonchalance and easy bravery which she absolutely did not feel. "Levicorpus, have at it."

"You're a mad woman," he said in a low whisper.

"Not the first time I've been told that." Her false brightness wasn't fooling him, but he showed the good grace not to pick at her façade.

"How utterly unsurprising."

"Look, neither you nor I expected any of this when we woke up yesterday morning, did we? But now we somehow have a mystery that's strangely nothing to do with what happened to me. Yet, everything we do just brings more questions. So, we answer this question, then we get back to those scrolls."

Lucius sighed, shaking his head. There was no arguing with the woman. "As you wish, Miss Granger."