THE MANOR
Disclaimer: All this stuff basically belongs to JKR and not me. I'm not trying to claim this as mine either. I claim it as her's.
Chapter 11 – Inside and Outside
The overwhelming blackness that had put Hermione's mind into a deep slumber receded slowly, and although her eyes were firmly sealed shut, she became aware that she was not dead as she had initially thought, and was in fact, conscious. Slowly, one by one, she regained her senses, and could feel herself lying with her back on what felt like cold stone. Her icy fingers twitched just a little, and she could feel gritty and slimy grime, which made her wince in discomfit. Her stiff position made her ache uncomfortably, and she carefully arched her back just a little, trying not to move too much, for her body was still unwilling to shift itself after what felt like hours of prone stillness.
Sounds crept back into her mind, and listening, she could hear the sounds of dripping water, the soft noise emphasised by the echoey stone. There were also the sounds of small creatures scampering that made Hermione recoil. But most importantly, was the sound of another person breathing, which made Hermione attempt to force her eyes open. The process of opening her eyes was difficult, but in the end, she managed, and blinking a few times to ease the blurry vision (she couldn't even rub her eyes because of the dirt on her hands), she sat up slowly, and looked around.
She clearly in a dungeon.
The room was not big, in fact, tiny would be the kindest description possible, with no windows in the oppressive stone walls. A slight ray of a strangely bluish light filtered in through the window of the heavy, wooden door, which was barred with rusty iron, and the light reflected off a small puddle of water into which more water dripped from the sealing. It felt damp, and cold, and uncomfortable.
'Ron!' Hermione could see her friend, also lying on the floor near her, with a terrible cut on his forehead that had clotted, but looked rather frightening all the same. She and reaching out, weakly at first, shook him, before he too opened his eyes.
'Hermione?' Ron sluggishly sat up. He looked terrible, with his skin pale yet smudged with dirt, red hair tangled and darkened with filth, clothes slightly torn and soiled. Hermione imagined she didn't look much different. He touched his forehead gingerly. 'Are you alright?'
Hermione frowned, and realised there was a stinging pain on her cheek, where she had been lying on the stone floor. She nodded. 'I'm fine.'
'Where the hell are we?' Ron asked, looking around.
Hermione studied the place, but there were no identifying characteristics of this place. 'I don't know,' she said, standing with creaking knees to look outside the window of the door to the cell. There was nobody outside, all she could see was continual stone corridors, and a torch that burned with almost blue-green flames. That must be why their light was so peculiar. She pushed at the door, pulled at it, and it did not give way. She banged it again.
'Looks like we're prisoners,' Ron said glumly. He kicked the door, and it did not budge. 'Locked in.' He reached inside his pockets for his wand – it wasn't there.
Hermione felt for hers too. Nothing.
'So they've nicked our wands,' Ron said, disgustedly. 'Why would they want to capture us?'
His words jolted Hermione back to her usual, analytical self, and her mind recalled the words of Harry one night long ago. She shut her eyes fearfully as she suddenly remembered Harry's dream. 'Both of you, lying in a dungeon. It is cold and dark … you are both white with cold. Ron has a cut across his forehead, you look like your arm and cheek has been scratched.'
He had described their injuries exactly, she looked down to see the scratches on her right arm. And, judging from Ron's appearance, they were both white with cold. It was dark, and they were in a dungeon. She shuddered involuntarily.
'What's wrong?' Ron asked, concerned.
'Nothing,' she said automatically, not wanting to worry her friend. So, that dream hadn't just been an empty dream – more a premonition. Sent by Voldemort? She frowned, though. She and Ron weren't dead, so Harry had worried about them heedlessly. They weren't dead! This fact made her grin jubilantly, although a nagging fear remained. What else had Harry dreamt about?
Try as she might, she could not remember, but even as she sifted through her mind, Hermione remembered what the events that had happened yesterday, or rather, the night before yesterday. Draco. 'I'd bet you anything Lucius Malfoy has something to do with this,' Hermione said angrily, giving the offending door one last final shove.
'Of course he does. He's a stinking Death-Eater,' Ron scowled.
'No, I mean he really has something to do with it,' Hermione repeated.
Ron looked at her cautiously. 'How would you know?
Hermione hesitated. It would mean telling Ron about her temporary friendship with Draco … but she had to tell somebody! Now that she remembered Draco's treacherous role in their friendly relationship, the memories and thoughts were driving her insane, and she felt strongly the urge to spill it all out.
'Well, you know how Malfoy and I are in the same Arithmancy class,' she said slowly. That was the best approach. Go subtly.
Ron nodded.
'I kind of became a just little bit friendly with him,' Hermione admitted. 'Speaking terms,' she added hastily.
Ron stared, horrified at her. 'You what?' he gasped.
'Don't be silly,' she snapped, Ron's reaction, a severe contrast to Harry's own, jarred at her. 'I thought he could change.'
'You –you –fraternised with the enemy?' Ron said, aghast. 'What would Harry say?'
'Harry knows,' Hermione said coolly. 'And he behaved a lot more maturely than you are doing now.'
'Harry's an idiot,' Ron just said, but he did cool down a little, taking the professed lead of Harry.
'Anyway, I thought Malfoy wasn't all that bad,' Hermione continued hurriedly, 'but then, the night before you and I went out to Hogsmeade, we were studying in the library, and I found the photo.'
'What photo?' Ron asked, puzzled, clearly not remembering.
'When my house was broken into in the summer, that photograph, which was torn? Remember, the photo of all three of us? With me torn out?'
Light dawned in Ron's face. 'He had it?' he said incredulously.
Hermione nodded, grimly. 'I see it all now,' she said. 'He was trying to be friends with me, just so he could lead me into this trap.' Tears sprang into her eyes when she thought about it all again. 'Damn him!' she cried out suddenly, and kicked the bulky door. More subdued. 'He betrayed me.'
Ron went over to the now sobbing girl, and put a comforting arm around her shoulders. 'Don't worry, Hermione,' he said, unsure of what to say, but saying it anyway. 'When I see him, I'll give him a big kick in the arse.'
'If we ever get out of here,' Hermione muttered darkly, a little embarrassed her feelings had run loose concerning him.
'We don't need to get out of here. If Malfoy were involved, surely we'd see him here,' he reminded her.
'Let me kick him first,' Hermione said viciously, one hand forming into a fist.
'Alright,' Ron said, a grin tugging his mouth, as Hermione began swearing at Draco Malfoy.
***
Draco Malfoy moped about in the library. No, Malfoys did not mope, he mentally corrected himself, and sighed, giving up all lost vestiges of dignity as his mind returned to his earlier thoughts. He was definitely moping, and all because of Granger. Completely ridiculous.
He wondered absently what had happened last night when Hermione had rushed out of the library like that. He had come back to the desk after looking up some obscure fragment of Persian magical history, to find that Hermione had just vanished with her books. He asked a nearby student where she was, and the student just said that she had rushed off very quickly for a reason the student was not privy to. Maybe she had to go to the toilet or something like that. Draco wasn't too fussed. Girls could be strange sometimes.
But now, the thought of Hermione was prancing about in Hogsmeade with that useless Weasel, while he had to sit in the library all by himself, really annoyed him no end. Besides, he thought peevishly, he needed help on his Transfiguration assignment.
He scowled. Admit it, Draco, you miss her company, a little voice spoke at the back of his mind. Shut up little voice. He just needed her Transfiguration help.
Draco sighed again, like some melancholy, love-stricken Medieval sorceress, and finished the rest of his work as best as he could with Hermione's expertise, until about six, whereupon he headed to the Great Hall for dinner. He sat himself down at the Slytherin table, looking automatically towards the Gryffindor table for her. He scanned the table rapidly, but could see no sign of her. Potter was there, talking to Thomas and Finnigan, but Hermione (or Weasley for that matter) could not be seen at all. Obviously, they were late back from their oh-so-charming little date.
'Draco, what's wrong?' Pansy Parkinson purred. 'You look out of sorts.'
'I am out of sorts, Pansy,' Draco said shortly, turning to look for conversation elsewhere.
'Would you like me to make you less out of sorts?' Pansy asked suggestively, almost visibly licking her lips in a way that made Draco want to shudder.
'I'm sure Goyle would love it,' Draco just said, directing his attention to Blaise Zabini, who had just sat down, instead, with some relief. 'Blaise, did you check up on those points Justin Finch-Fletchley took away from one of our students?'
It was a trivial matter, where the Hufflepuff prefect had taken away thirty points from a sly-faced first year Slytherin, which the kid claimed was unfair since it wasn't his fault. Personally, Draco felt that just looking at the Slytherin kid would make anybody want to take points off him, but he was a Slytherin, and had to uphold his House's honour.
Blaise nodded. 'Finch-Fletchley admitted it was a mistake,' she said, richly-toned voice smoothly bland. Draco chuckled inwardly, wondering what methods Blaise had employed to "encourage" Finch-Fletchley to admit he was in the wrong. 'The points were returned to our House.'
Draco nodded approvingly, and looked around at the other fifth years near him. Crabbe and Goyle were slobbering over their food, disgustingly; the other Slytherin boys talked in a mixture of sneaky, creepy and plain thuggish movements; while Pansy and her little cliche of girls gossiped loudly, glancing slyly around the Hall as they did so to pinpoint the objects of their blathering. In Draco's opinion, Blaise was the only decent fifth year in Slytherin. The Slytherin fifth-years were a particularly pathetic group of beings.
He looked over to the fourth years, and the third years. Lars Ingrid and Michael Edwards, his Beaters, were sitting amongst the fourth years, while Yuki Kamno and Gregor Pleyel, his Chasers were absorbed in what was obviously a Quidditch involved conversation with others of their fellow third years. He wished he were with them instead of among the terribly dull and malicious fifth years, except that it was socially not allowed in the Slytherin strata. Rank and hierarchy was very important to the Slytherins, and each year sat with each year group. Tedious.
Again, he lifted his eyes to the Gryffindor table, to again see no Hermione. At the conclusion of the meal, Hermione had made not made any appearance, and Draco frowned. Something was up. She never skipped meals, probably to maintain good behaviour at the Gryffindor table and prevent any points being taken from her House. Draco decided to go to the Library to study, since there wasn't really any point practising Quidditch, and found himself missing Hermione even more as he continued with his pitiful attempts at a difficult Transfiguration essay. He missed having the arguments they had been having a couple of days ago on Arithmancy too, as he revised that topic.
At about eleven, Draco headed back to his dormitory, a feeling of discomfit in region of his shoulder blades. He sat down on his bed, about to change, when he brushed his chest just slightly while reaching his hand up to run through his hair. And felt a definite sense of fear, that accompanied the certain knowledge of where Hermione was.
Shit.
His heart raced, and he felt panic seep through his veins, and forced himself to calm down. Action was needed, and he would take it instantly. But not alone. No – there was somebody else who was involved in the mess too. He pulled his cloak back on, and walked swiftly out through the Slytherin Common Room and out. He hurtled upwards, and finally found the stairs that led towards the Gryffindor Tower, and its portrait of the Fat Lady. Draco had discovered the Gryffindor Common Room's location quite by mistake, and had overheard the other day, a couple of first years discussing their password of all things. Gryffindors could be so naïve and trusting at times.
He hoped they hadn't changed the password since then, and spoke aloud now, squarely facing the fat lady in the pink dress. 'Godric.'
The lady in the portrait looked suspiciously at him. 'You're not a Gryffindor, are you.' It wasn't a question, it was a decided statement.
'No, I'm not,' Draco admitted honestly, hoping she wouldn't be too difficult about that fact. 'But I have to get in. It's a matter of extreme urgency.'
The fat lady continued, as if he had not even spoken. 'In fact, you're a Slytherin.'
'Look,' Draco said, trying to be patient. 'This is really important and it concerns the welfare of one of your precious Gryffindors,' he said flatly. 'I'm a Prefect,' he flashed his silver badge, 'and therefore should be considered trustworthy.' That was thin, he knew. Hell, Tom Riddle had been Head Boy. 'If you get into trouble about this, I'll personally explain everything to both Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore, and you won't get removed or anything.'
She didn't budge.
'Look,' Draco tried, 'I'm not the Dark Lord, or Sirius Black. I'm not Grindelward, or Salazar Slytherin …'
Her suspicious look did not alter, but she did interrupt his ravings about 'dangerous' wizards. 'Who are you?'
'Draco Malfoy,' he replied, trying to put as much innocence as he could into his name, which could sound a bit malevolent at times. 'A prefect,' he added again for good measure. 'Who gave the correct password.'
'I won't forget you,' she warned him as she swung open.
'I wouldn't expect you to,' Draco batted his eyelids at her, before clambering through the portrait hole. He barely even glanced at the empty Gryffindor common room, and raced up the spiralling stairs, looking into each dormitory (and scaring a couple of first years who had stayed up to play a game of Gobstones) for a certain messy-haired fifth year with a famous scar on his forehead.
'Trust Potter to complicate matters by being right up at the top,' he muttered as he finally found the dormitory he had been searching for. He went in, found the wonder-boy, and shook him, probably a little harder than absolutely necessary.
'Wha?' Harry said, looking at him blearily. 'Ron?'
Honestly! Who could mistake him for that red-haired idiot? Fool! 'Wake up, Potter,' Draco hissed, affronted.
'Malfoy,' Harry sat up, blinking his eyes rapidly in astonishment. 'What the hell are you doing in here?' he demanded of the blond Slytherin, sitting up at once. His hair was all over the place, a complete contrast to Draco's rather neat appearance.
'Hermione's missing,' Draco said bluntly.
'What?' Harry's face paled. Then, he looked at him dubiously. 'You're having me on. Now, how did you get in?'
Draco gritted his teeth. 'I'm serious, Potter,' he insisted. 'Hermione's missing. She's gone. You know, vanished, poof of light and smoke, disappeared, missing.'
Harry put on his glasses to see more clearly, and glanced around the dorm. Then, incredibly, he smiled, making Draco think he was dealing with either an insane fool or a dumb fool. 'Ron's missing too.'
'Brilliant, but what does that have to do with anything?'
'The Astronomy Tower's a popular venue at this time of night,' Harry said blandly.
'Hermione's not stupid, and I can tell you that at this moment she's a lot further away from her dorm than the Astronomy Tower,' Draco snapped impatiently. Potter could be thick. If it weren't for the fact that he needed some help, he would never have even gone near the four-eyed git. 'Are you going to listen to me? She's gone. Kidnapped.'
'What?' Harry asked, shocked, and his eyes going wide.
'Kidnapped. K-I-D-N-A–' Draco sarcastically began spelling out the word.
'Why? What about Ron?' Harry asked, jerking his head towards the empty bed next to his.
'She was with the Weasel this afternoon, wasn't she. They never came back from Hogsmeade,' Draco said thoughtfully. 'Maybe Weasley got taken as well.' He shrugged. He wasn't all too fussed about Weasley's non-appearance.
'I don't believe you,' Harry said flatly, distrust written plainly in his face. 'I'm sure she's fine.'
'Then we are going to go to the girl's dormitory, and I will show you that Hermione isn't in bed,' Draco announced.
'I am not going into the girl's dorm,' Harry said, blushing bright red.
'Yes you are, if it's going to take that to prove to you that she is missing. Hurry up,' Draco said, heading to the door.
'No, you don't,' Harry grabbed Draco before he could leave. He hastily dragged on a warm cloak. 'I'll go. I won't get caught, and if you, a Slytherin, were found in a Gryffindor girls' dorm you'd get in serious trouble.'
'Like you'd care,' Draco retorted dryly, as he watched Harry dig about in his trunk, and finally pull out a silvery, shimmering fabric, whereupon his jaw dropped. 'So that's how you did it,' he said, annoyed.
'Did what?' Harry asked confusedly.
'Make your charming head show up outside the Shrieking Shack in third year,' Draco reminded him. 'I knew I wasn't hallucinating,' he added, disgusted.
'Shut up, Malfoy,' Harry said, a little guiltily.
'When we finish this I'm going to clear up that matter,' Draco added, scowling at the cloak.
Harry scowled back as he pulled on the Invisibility Cloak and went outside the dormitory. Draco waited impatiently, hoping to hell that none of the other boys would wake up while he was still in their dorm.
Harry returned quickly. 'Alright, she's not there,' Harry reported.
Draco gave a small sigh. There had been some minor hope that he had been mistaken, that the basis for his beliefs were flawed, but it was clear that was not to be. 'Get dressed. We're leaving,' Draco said shortly.
'What?' Harry exclaimed.
'Shut up!' Draco hissed, just as Neville spoke up in the darkness.
'Harry?'
Draco grabbed Harry's Invisibility Cloak to cover himself just as Neville opened his eyes. Stupid, daft idiot!
'You alright, Harry?'
'Yeah, Neville,' Harry lied. 'Just went to the bathroom and tripped over a bit.'
'Right,' Neville said, sleepily. Harry and Draco both waited, before Neville's breathing evened into the steady rhythm of a sleeping person.
'Now be quiet and stay quiet,' Draco ordered in a voice barely above a whisper. 'Get changed. We're going to go and get her back.'
'Where? What's happened to them?' Harry asked incoherently as he picked up some clothes to change into.
'What do you think's happened to them? Hermione suddenly decided it was a pleasant time to elope with Weasley?' Draco asked sarcastically. 'Think, Potter. She's been kidnapped,' he repeated, wondering how many times he had to say that to knock it into that thick brain of Potter's. Belatedly, he realised his last statement had sounded just a touch melodramatic, but then again, Voldemort appeared to like melodrama. It was part of the job description of a psychotic, raving lunatic.
Harry's face went green, and Draco, watching him connect the dots in his head, realised that maybe Potter wasn't as stupid as he sometimes seemed. At any rate, it seemed that he had realised that attacking one's friends was always a good way to lay the bait. 'The dream,' he whispered, his green eyes almost glazed as they stared outside at the moon, and he shivered visibly even as a light draught blew cold air gently into the room.
Draco stared at him (what was going on?) and snapped his fingers in front of Harry. 'Hello? Anybody in there?'
Harry started, and recollected himself.
'I'll meet you at the Entrance Hall ASAP,' Draco said briskly. 'Bring your Invisibility Cloak and your Firebolt,' he added as an afterthought.
'Why?'
'Were you planning on walking all the way?'
'Oh. Right.'
Draco ran down the stairs taking them three at a time, and then hurried out of the Gryffindor common room, pushing open the portrait quickly.
'Say thank you!' the fat lady reprimanded him primly.
Draco rolled his eyes. 'Thanks!' he hollered back as loudly as he dared without alerting Filch who was always on the prowl, and sprinted back to his dorm.
In about fifteen minutes, Draco and Harry were flying through the air out of Hogwarts castle, Harry on his Firebolt and Draco on his Nimbus 2001. Both had changed into more practical clothing – Harry into a pair of old jeans, t-shirt and thick sweater as well as his cloak, while Draco wore all black, with loose fitting pants, t-shirt and turtle-neck sweater on top. He too had his cloak, for the night air they entered was rather chilly.
In addition, they had made a small sidetrip to the Hogwart's kitchen, scaring poor Dobby, who had stayed up late to proudly count his sock collection, out of his wits as they picked up some food and drink to take with them. Harry had his invisibility cloak, and both boys carried their wands.
'Do you think Voldemort caught Hermione and Ron just to get at me?' Harry asked Draco as they flew. He remembered his dream all the more vividly, and shut his eyes in horror, which of course was a little stupid, because his broom instantly dipped. He opened his eyes hurriedly, setting himself straight.
Draco nodded curtly. 'He's setting out the bait.'
'Then,' Harry paused, struggling with his thoughts, 'we're taking the bait?'
Draco shrugged. 'In a way.'
Harry looked at him incredulously. 'Are you trying to get us killed spectacularly, or what?'
'The "or what" option.' Draco gave a huge, exaggerated sigh, then spoke slowly, as if to a child. 'Potter, we're going to – what's that word you Gryffindors love? – ah, yes. We're going to rescue, your friends. We're not going to be walking into a trap.'
'And how's that?' Harry demanded, a little belligerently it must be admitted. He was, after all, worried to death about his two friends, and also a little dubious about Draco Malfoy who was his official arch-nemesis at school. He was also a little cranky at being on his broomstick flying off at this hour – just after midnight.
'Because I'm here,' Draco said, carelessly. 'In case you hadn't realised, two is usually a hell of a lot better than one.'
'Not when that other one's Malfoy,' Harry said darkly.
Draco gave him a sunny smile. 'I agree perfectly. If the other one is Draco Malfoy, two is a million and one times better than one,' he said smugly.
'That's so sad,' Harry commented irritably. He pushed his hair out of his eyes as the wind blew it into his face.
'Besides, I'm a Death-Eater's son. An Inner Circle Death-Eater's son. I know Voldemort's tricks,' Draco continued. The news came as no surprise to Harry, who knew Lucius Malfoy was of the Inner Circle.
'All of them?' Harry said doubtfully.
'Okay, only some of them. And I don't think either Voldemort or my father counted on me coming along and turning rebel.'
'You're turning rebellious?' Harry pretended to look absolutely shocked. 'Is this a public statement that the dreadful, cruel, cold-hearted Draco Malfoy is turning good? That underneath all this, he's a softie filled with compassion and love and bravery and courage …' Harry said sarcastically.
'Please, Potter,' Draco held up a hand. 'Do not even think of ruining my reputation at school.'
Harry was at a loss for something to say at this. Finally, he spoke. 'How long will we be flying?'
'If I've figured it out correctly, I'd say a day and a half to two days. Depends how fast we travel.'
Harry grunted. They had packed enough food for that.
'Where exactly are we going?' he asked Draco curtly.
'The way we're going now,' Draco responded. Very uninformative.
'How would you know?' Harry asked sullenly.
'Trust me,' Draco grinned. This just made Harry even grumpier.
'But why are you doing this?' Harry demanded. 'Why should I even trust you in this?'
The pale boy turned his head away, face expressionless, yet not so if one looked at his grey eyes, almost silver with the glimmer of the moonlight on his pale, marble-like face. 'I don't want Hermione hurt,' he said so softly, Harry almost did not hear him.
Author's Notes: Sorry about the later than usual update, been busy. Thank you to my two wonderful reviewers!
Cinnamon - It was shock, and fear. Imagine yourself in that situation. You'd be pretty freaked out too, wouldn't you?
Lady Prongs - I'm glad you thought the quidditch game was alright. I had a feeling you'd be pleased about Ron and Hermione breaking up since you're quite anti-R/Hr. As for your question "will they be alright?" (evil cackle! we'll see!)
