Sold-Chapter 7-Decisions

By Marmalade Fever

Hermione gasped. She had had more than just a hunch that it was Voldemort that had sent for Lily, but to hear the confirmation caused her to flinch horribly. Memories, horrid, heartbreaking memories surrounded that monster of a man. And now the question that laid most heavily on her mind had to come out. "Will you help her?" She waited with bated breath for her childhood nemesis' answer.

"I…" Draco had to stop to think for a few seconds. He wasn't sure just why, but somewhere deep inside him wanted to help the poor little girl. But why? She was the daughter of his half-blooded enemy! He should want to spit on her face and hand her overt to the Dark Lord with a bow on her head… But he wasn't sure if he could do it. She wasn't even from this world.

But that didn't mean that he could very well disobey the Dark Lord! What if he was found out? He could always plead innocence, saying that he didn't know of the Dark Lord's plans… But that might put Evander in danger. When had he begun referring to the boy by his name? He wasn't his son. Not really.

"I…" Draco repeated. Then something happened that frightened him greatly. He glanced into Granger's eyes… and they were human once more. For the slightest fraction of a moment, he was extremely attracted to the mudblood. For that moment in time she was no longer plain, no longer frail, just a beautiful woman who sat just feet away from him. Draco turned tail and fled the room, chills shaking him. He clutched at his heart. What was happening to him?

"I hate her," he chanted to himself. "I hate her. I hate her. I hate her!" He couldn't shake the feeling, though. He needed to get a grip. He rubbed his eyes and turned his head, then jumped. Evander was standing just feet away, arms crossed and looking at him expectantly. "How… how did you escape?" Draco asked, too surprised to growl.

"I'm your son, remember?" Evander asked, as if it were obvious. "What are you doing out here? You look as if someone walked across your grave."

"I…" Draco repeated for the third time.

"I know; I know… you hate her. But really Dad she's not that bad. I don't know how to explain it, but you two really do belong together."

"So you've said," Draco grunted, finally regaining some composure. His mind slipped back to the deathly crone in the next room who had looked like an angel to him for a fraction of a second.

"Do you know where Lily is?" Evander asked, looking up at Draco with his large, brown eyes.

Draco turned his head and nodded.

"Well?" Evander persisted. "Where is she?"

"As if I'm going to tell you!" Draco bellowed. He grabbed Evander's shoulder and began towing him down the hallway.

"What? You think I'm stupid enough to go after her on my own?"

"You were stupid enough to leave your room!"

"I don't know. I doubt you planning on murdering your flesh and blood!"

Draco whipped Evander around and placed his hands on the boy's shoulders, staring piercingly into his eyes. "You are not my son."

"Perhaps not. No, no I'm not. You aren't even a tenth of the man my father is!"

"Your father married a mudblood!"

"My father was brave enough to marry her despite Lucius Malfoy's wishes! That makes him a man in my book any day!" Evander tore away from him and continued up the stairs to his room.

Draco stood, huffing and puffing. He needed a drink, and badly too. He left for the kitchen to get himself a firewhiskey.

Hermione frowned. What had she said? Malfoy was getting weirder every day, it seemed, and he hadn't even spent time in captivity! The selfish prat. What if he refused to help Lily? What should she do then? She couldn't very well let Evander down, nor could she allow Voldemort's plans to be carried out. That would never do. Well, she could think of a few good ways to escape from this dungeon, but what then? What happened when she found Lily and had no safe haven to return her to? If only she could get that stinking Malfoy's help!

During her time of captivity Hermione had worked on strengthening her mind. In particular, she had been teaching herself as much wandless magic as possible. The most logical form of this was to learn to become an animagus, which she had.

Now that she was fairly certain that Malfoy would not be returning for a while, she focused all of her energy on turning herself into her animal counterpart. It especially helped that she had regained much of her former strength, although she was still quite weak.

Seamlessly, Hermione's body shrunk, her legs bent, her arms moved back, and she took the shape of a bird… a swallow. Originally, she had been quite perturbed by her small stature as a bird, but now she had learned the advantages. Her cell with the Death-eaters' had not had bars, but magical shields. Here she was able to slip herself between them without effort. Plus, with her wings, she could escape with ease, so long as no one saw her and thought better of it.

Her transformation had brought to mind a song that her mother had liked. It was from the sixties by an artist called Donovan. It compared the life of a calf who would never know freedom to a wild bird… a swallow. Hermione promptly began her escape.

A.N.: Short! In a hurry!