CHAPTER 23: The Mysterious Wall

Thanks to all readers, reviewers, kudo-ers, and favorite-ers!

Hey all, I'm really sorry about how short the last chapter was! It's too complicated to explain why it worked out this way, but this one is much longer.

"Has anyone been visiting you at all?" Draco asked, thinking that he might as well properly wallow in this bizarre feeling of guilt.

The dragon hesitated, and then nodded slightly.

"My mother, I suppose. I don't see how anyone else could have got down here; the location is blood-bound as well." And she never told me, Draco thought gloomily.

Orion made a strange gesture that looked very much like a nod and a shake of the head mingled together.

"Yes, and yet no…" Draco had a flash of inspiration. "Do you mean that someone else has visited you as well? Someone she brought with her?"

The dragon gave a long sigh and then spoke in a grating, rusty voice, which made Draco almost jump out of his skin.

"I do wish you wouldn't ask me that question. Because, you see, if I'm directly asked any questions by the Malfoy heir, then I'm obligated to answer, which can lead to all sorts of dreadful problems. They're not at all good for my digestion."

"You—you mean that you can speak?" Draco asked in a voice that was much squeakier than he would have liked it to be.

"I do rather seem to be performing that activity at the moment," said the dragon, examining his nails. "But the process uses up so much energy, so I prefer not to."

Draco decided that whichever course of action a dragon preferred was bound to be the right one, at least when said animal had claws that were half a foot long. "I'm terribly sorry. You can stop at any time now, if you like."

"I do like," said Orion after taking a long drink of water. "I only wanted to warn you, Young Master, that you'd most likely be more content if you refrained from asking me about your mother's companion on her visits. Because I must answer any question, if asked by the Malfoy heir."

Draco had always been remarkably bad at restraining his curiosity, and nothing goaded him more than being told that he ought not to do something, no matter how good that advice might be.

"Who was it?" he blurted.

The dragon yawned, and the sight of his teeth was almost enough to make Draco wish he had not asked the question. "An old friend," he said. "He whom your mother knew in days long gone by, now reunited."

"All right, but who?"

In answer, the dragon curled his tail around his nose and lay down to sleep.

"That can't be all you're going to tell me," said Draco. "You said that you were obligated to answer my questions."

Orion opened one green-gold eye. "True. But I am a dragon. And no dragon anywhere ever gave everyone a straight answer. We are quite like cats, in that respect."

Draco somehow knew that he would get no more out of Orion. He sighed, feeling deflated. I can't worry any more about this at the moment, he decided. I simply can't. I must concentrate on getting out of here and finding Ginny. At the thought of Ginny in the snow, he did find it much easier to stop worrying about whoever his mother's companion had been. But I will solve this mystery later on, he vowed.

"Be that as it may, I promise that I will never neglect you again," Draco said very softly, and then he turned to go. Damn. Ginny's had an effect on me, without a doubt. I'm actually feeling all of these soft, fluffy, squashy emotions. If the Malfoy ancestors know anything about this, they're revolving in their graves like spitted chickens.

He walked towards the other end of the dungeons with a confused hope that the process would reverse itself, that the mists would simply rise again and clear within a few minutes, leaving him in the Burrow. After all, this had worked for Orion, he reassured himself. He ignored the little voice of reason, which told him that Orion had found the Malfoy dungeons only because dragons bound to a house had natural homing devices. Draco had always been rather skilled at ignoring the voice of reason when he wished to do do so.

The problem was that he found himself running up against the far wall of the main space quite soon. No matter how many spells he tried, it stubbornly refused to turn into the basement below the Burrow.

Draco finally tucked his wand into his belt, sighing. He glanced about the end of the room. This was the same place where he'd stood with Ginny at the beginning of this entire adventure, when she'd persuaded him to wear a Santa suit as she dressed in an elf outfit and then told him that the Malfoy dungeons were far from conducive to the Yuletide spirit. He glanced dully round the room, wishing desperately that she'd never convinced him to go to her family's hovel in the first place.

He walked round the Christmas tree he'd set up in one corner, waving his wand again in a hopeless way, thinking about what he and Ginny might be doing at that very moment if only he hadn't been enough to a fool to go there. They could be upstairs in his rooms right now. He could be peeling that elf costume from her body bit by bit. A luxurious hot bath could be running in the heart-shaped tub. And then he'd scoop her up in his arms, throw her into the bubbles, and—

"Ouch!" Draco winced at he ran into the corner. He reached out to push himself away, knocking his hand against one of the stone blocks of the wall. The tips of his fingers went through the stone. His eyes widened. He pulled his hand back and then tentatively reached forward. Again, his fingers began to disappear. He couldn't help being reminded of what had happened at the Burrow. In that case, he had been stopped from crossing a barrier. Now, he somehow had the ability to put his hand through solid rock when he should not have been able to do so.

He tried standard spells, then spells whose legality was not strictly guaranteed if the Ministry ever caught him doing them, then wandless charms from the Danmarks Trylleformer, and finally, more or less everything he could think of. None of it seemed to have any effect one way or the other. No matter what Draco tried to do, nothing changed. He could reach into the stone, but he could not learn anything more about what was happening. He felt as if he were reaching into ordinary space, but he could not see it. He had no idea where his hand was actually going. And in both cases, spells seemed to have no effect.

This is blood-bound magic, he realized. Both at the Burrow, and here in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. And in both cases, it works in relation to me, whether to keep me out or to allow me through. But why? It makes no sense at all.

He tapped his fingers against one thigh, thinking hard. He didn't know how much time had passed between the moment when he'd watched Ginny drift away with her mother, but he guessed it had been at least half an hour. He already knew that it wasn't possible to Apparate in or out of the Burrow; that was why he and Ginny had taken the car and then walked in. That process had taken almost two hours, which was time that he did not have at the present moment. Ginny could be in danger. He had to find her, and a strange conviction was growing in his mind that if he walked through the stones in the corner, he would find her. The more vehemently he told himself that this couldn't possibly be true, the stronger the conviction became.

This is absolutely mad, he thought, staring at the irregular stones. Am I actually going to try to walk through a solid wall to come out the gods only know because I think I'll be able to rescue Ginny? She's probably perfectly all right. She and her mother are likely safely back in the Burrow. It's not as if they're out in the snow…

But for all he knew, they could be. He did not understand anything about the sort of magic that had split the lower level of the Burrow into pieces and sent the Weasley off their own islands, after all. Perhaps she and her mother really ended up outside in the bitter cold, caught in the gathering storm.

At that thought, Draco's mind was made up; or rather, there was no choice to make. As surely as a bird flying to its nest, he had to find Ginny.

He took a cloak down from a hook on the wall and brought an extra one for her, unsure if any warming charm could keep them safe in the storm. Then he took a deep breath and stepped forward. In the last split second before he reached the wall, he glanced down at the floor. At the very edge of the corner, he saw a single long tile, a long, narrow inlay with complex blue script.

*That's exactly the same as the ones I saw at the Burrow,* he realized. *The first was set at the foot of the stairs to the first floor. The second was the one that turned into a barrier against me as soon as I put my foot on it. What does this mean? Why is there one here? Was this the worst idea of my life? Perhaps so. But if I find Ginny, it will all be worthwhile.* Then there was no more time to think; a string attached to his chest seemed to give a sudden, violent tug, and he was pulled through the stones.

TBC…

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