A/N: Haha! I have returned, although none of those evil people who read this story reviewed…with the exception of Marina. I love you, girl!
Hermione
awoke to the rapping noise. The incessant knocking filled her head like an
explosion. She opened her eyes, letting them adjust to the blackness of
whatever room she was in.
"Hello?"
she called out timidly, almost as afraid of who might answer as the darkness.
Someone, or rather, something flailed wildly at her right. She placed her hand
on the cold floor and felt around, before grabbing at a cotton object.
"Get
your hand off my ass, Granger!" cursed the thing. It stirred again, this
time reaching for her face. She could feel its hot breath near her own nose.
"Where
are we, witch?" it drawled. Hermione pushed the fact away.
"Damnit,
Draco, you scared me. All I know if that we are inside a tar black room that
probably has not exits. Also, I don't have my wand." The other voice chuckled.
"Never
thought I would get you alone in a dark
room, Granger."
"Funny.
Very funny." Hermione crawled until she bumped into what felt like a wall. She
stood carefully and walked with her hands tracing the outline of the room.
"What
are you doing?"
"I'm
looking for a door," she replied sharply, "you could help, you know." With a
toss of her hair, Hermione resumed her search. She felt about until her left
hand fell upon a flipped latch.
"Hey,
I've found something!" She waited until she felt Draco's body press against the
wall beside her.
"It's
a latch."
"So
flip it already!"
"Yes,
Master Malfoy." The door budged slightly, revealing a single beam of light.
"Oh,
thank God. We're going to get out of here!" Hermione sighed, pushing the entire
weight of her body against the door, attempting to move it.
"Here,"
Draco offered, almost humanely, "let me take a whack at it." Placing the palms
of his hands against the concrete and bracing his feet, he let out a grunt that
would put any pig to shame.
"It's…not…moving…"
he cried, exasperated, as a bead of sweat dripped from his forehead. Hermione
let out another sigh, and leaned back against their frigid boundary, smacking
her head on the wall.
"Ow,"
she exclaimed, reaching up to feel the bruise. From the ray of glowing light,
Hermione could faintly see that one of the stonesmaking up the wall broke the
pattern. She touched it gently with her fingers and saw it give way. When she
pushed harder, Hermione found that the door had swung open. Draco, who had been
heaving away, rolled onto a carpeted floor. The girl walked into the chamber
that was filled by the warmth of the sun.
"What
the…" Hermione placed her hand before his mouth to cut him off. With another
deft movement, she signaled for him to be silent and scanned the room. The door
they had just passed through seemed to have been carved right out of the wall.
An asthetic mural of violently bright colors was slated across the walls and
door.
Hermione
traced her fingers delicately across the faces of the depicted people who were
frozen in an endless battle. Their once beautiful faces seemed twisted in
grotesque images of torture and defeat. She broke her gaze and quickly searched
for her unwilling companion.
She
found the pale boy leaning his ear against one of the room's walls, intently
listening for something.
"What
is it?" she whispered, only to be hushed by Draco. He looked back at her, and
motioned for her to open the nearby wooden door. The heavy oak swung carelessly
open, squeaking slightly, much to Draco's discontent.
Hermione
peered inside the almost black doorway. She stepped cautiously into the room,
her bare feet padding quietly on the icy tile, only to jump back at a soft
moan.
"Oh
God, oh God.." she murmured, walking backwards bumping into Draco. He almost
gently placed his coarse hand on her shoulder.
"Who's
there?"
"I
don't…I don't know." Hermione followed Draco as he approached the entryway. He
reached for his wand, only to remember it had been confiscated sometime during
their ordeal, of which he could recall only bright lights and shadows. Scanning
the room for another light, he accidentally knocked over a candle balanced
precariously on a nearby desk. He shoved it at Hermione's face.
"You
took the one day Conjuring class. Give us a flame!" Hermione grimaced at her
enemy then muttered a short spell.
A
vivid light sparked at her fingers and she wrested the candle from his hands,
leading the way into the obscurity.
"Hullo?"
sputtered Hermione faintly, waving the
candle's flame madly. Another groan came from her right. Draco grabbed her arm
and guided the candle. As she squinted to view easier, Hermione suddenly and
emphatically dropped the molded wax.
"Ron!"
she shrieked as she glanced at the radiant orange hair, just as the candle's
flame was smothered. She hurriedly conjured up another fire between her palms.
Leaving the brilliant orb in the center of the stifling chamber, she rushed to
her friend's side.
"Oh
Ron, what happened?" The red-haired boy hung limply, fettered to the cobbled
wall by iron chains. She tore at the links, and finding them weak and loose,
helped Ron from his bondage. He lay, half-naked and shivering, on the floor as
Hermione soothingly pet his head.
"Oh
God, who did this?" Hermione turned back to see Draco poised in the doorway.
With the light wearing thin, Hermione dragged Ron as far as was possible. Draco
turned his head to her and the lanky boy, his face now ashen white.
"People
are coming."
Almost
instantly, hundreds of footsteps thundered outside the chamber. Swarthy men
crowded about Ron's prison, peering at their victims through the murkiness. One
of the dark men stepped forward, as if to greet them. Draco stood defiantly,
although his knees knocked together like wooden spoons. The man barked
something that to Hermione sounded much like garbled Latin.
"Try
to talk to them," she hissed vehemently as she protectively stroked Ron's arm.
Draco faultered as he glanced between them and the armed men.
"Euh…Parlez-vous
français? [1]" he suggested meekly. The man gave a toothy grin. He said
something to his men before returning to the pale boy.
"Oui,
garçon, mais pourquoi est-ce que vous essaiez aider ce garçon? Les homes avec
les cheveux rouge sont méchants et de Satan! [2]" Hermione shivered coldy, wrapping
her arms tighter around her friend.
Two
of the subordinates, clad only in thin clothes wrapped about their waists and
falling to their knees, attempted to remove Ron from Hermione's embrace.
"No!"
she screamed, flailing violently as the men raised their knives.
Oooh, what is going to happen next? Review if you
want to find out.
[1] "Do you speak French?" (easy French phrase to
learn, children.)
[2] "Yes boy, but why are you trying to help that
one? Red-haired men are evil and of Satan!" (This is actually something I read
about in old Assyrian and Celtic folklore. Red-haired people were believed to
be cursed, and when they died they would become part of the undead…vampires if
you will.)