A/N: Sorry for the long update, and the short chapter. But hope you enjoy this anyway! Merry Christmas!
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, though I want Draco Malfoy or Cedric Diggory from the movie for Christmas.
He couldn't understand her behavior. He knew, after all, she was his best friend for six years that she would be afraid. That she would go with him willingly if he asked her to. But staying made him think that she had other plans than spying for the order.
"Give it a rest, Harry. I'm sure she's fine." Ginny said, polishing her wand. She didn't like Harry like this, fidgety and tense. It was as if the Harry that she knew, the fun, adventurous Harry had disappeared completely.
"Okay." He said softly, finding comfort in her words. Even though they weren't together, she still was there for him as a friend. And he was beginning to think that they'd be better off as such.
There was a loud pop and Lupin immediately appeared in front of them. He looked quite better, more rested and clean. He smiled warmly at Ginny and turned to Harry next. "You need to come with me, Harry." He said, extending his hand.
"Sure." He said, standing up from the sofa. "Bye, Gin." He said, turning to Ginny and smiling at her. Then, taking Lupin's hand, they disapparated.
A cold, dusty scene replaced the warm, cozy interior of the burrow. They had arrived at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Voices could be heard from the kitchen, and that was where they went.
A girl was sitting in front of the fire. Tonks, her hair striped with orange and blue, was trying to comfort her. The others, Moody and surprisingly Professor McGonagall were talking. Some other people he didn't recognize were also there, reading the Daily Prophet and debating on the events. He had noticed that the girl had long, raven hair, which gleamed from the fire.
"Harry," Lupin said, going nearer. Tonks looked up at him and smiled. "I presume you know Cho Chang?"
"How am I confusing?" Hermione asked Draco as she walked behind him briskly. They were walking along a wide hallway, with portraits gazing at them as they passed by. He didn't seem to mind; he just kept on walking.
"You just are, Granger." He said calmly, walking faster. He himself didn't know where he was going, but he knew that it was too depressing to sit down and wallow in his own misery. Malfoys had pride.
"That doesn't even make sense." She said, still following him.
"You are confusing as Potter is self-righteous and Weasley is thick and annoying." He replied, like the old Draco Malfoy would reply, given that he was talking to her. And that he just bared his soul to her a few minutes ago.
"Well," She said, trying to think of some argument to counter his insults on Harry and Ron. She couldn't find any. Harry was sulking because Dumbledore had died, which resulted in his breakup with Ginny because of self-righteous reasons. And Ron, though she practically screamed the hints that she liked him, still couldn't catch on. Maybe Draco was right. "Where are we going?"
"I don't really know." He replied, then stopped and turned to her. Then he turned around abruptly and continued on walking. A few hallways and staircases later, they reached a dead end. She recognized the door, but chose not to tell him about it. As if by some magnetic force, Draco was pulled into that very door. He walked there, slowly and calmly, and all Hermione could do was follow. It was as if he had entered a trance. His pale right hand found the golden knob of the door, and he turned it, slowly. It opened the same way with a creak.
"Malfoy?" Hermione whispered. He suddenly looked at her, as if broken from the trance.
"What did I do?" He asked, completely oblivious.
"You opened the door." She replied deadpan.
"Oh. Well, let's go then." He said, looking at the door. The only thing they could see was darkness.
"In there?" She asked, a little scared.
"No, Granger. Out the window." He said sarcastically. "Yes, in there." He pointed to the door, slightly ajar. "Don't tell me you're afraid? We roam around at night for Prefect duty. You've been with Potter in his little misadventures. And you're scared of a room?" He asked mockingly.
"I'm not scared, Malfoy." She said defensively. He had an amused smirk on his face. "Simply hesitant."
"Same thing." He said, and before she could reply he pulled her inside with him, the door closing behind them. "I suppose you brought your wand?" He asked.
"Lumos." She said, and he took that as a reply. Before them was a very old room, filled with cobwebs and broken planks of wood. "There's nothing here, let's go." She walked briskly towards the door, but not before Draco could stop her.
"Get a spine, Granger." He said, walking to the other side of the room. Her attention, on the other hand, was towards something that was covered in old blankets. She pulled the cloth off, and dust immediately clouded her eyes. After clearing up, she saw a portrait, a still portrait, of a very handsome man who had pale blonde hair. Beside him was a woman who had brown hair and a noticeably big emerald ring on her right hand.
"Malfoy, your mum wasn't an original brunette by any chance, was she?" She asked; her gaze transfixed on the painting.
"That's ridiculous. Mother is a blonde, like father and I." He said, turning around. He noticed that she was looking at something intently. "Why?" He asked.
"The man in this portrait looks exactly like your father." She said.
"Hey, that's my ring." She heard him say, only to notice that he was right beside her. He was pointing to the emerald ring that the girl had. "It was given to me by my Great Aunt Janella. I lost it."
"The portrait," She said, poking it softly with her wand, "It's not moving."
"Maybe she hexed it or something. Paintings can get annoying, you know. In the manor, father—"
"It's a muggle painting." She said, now fingering the texture of the picture.
"What do you mean its muggle? Aunt Janella was pureblood. She would never get any muggle to paint her portraits." He said with contempt.
"Who said it was your Aunt Janella in the painting?" She asked, her eyebrow raised. " I distinctly remember one of the paintings in the hallway bearing a Janella-something-Meliflua name. The old lady was sleeping, and she had black hair."
"But still, Aunt Janella wouldn't employ a muggle to do this. Whatever this is, it must be a mistake." He said, though in the back of his mind he was still doubtful. "Can we go now? I'm getting filthy." He opened the door and went outside. She followed.
"As if you aren't already." She mumbled.
The door was shut pretty hard, and inside a piece of parchment fell on the floor. On your wedding day. Love, Aunt Janella.
A handsome man with platinum blonde hair entered the room dimly lit with light from the fireplace. Inside he found her, brushing her long, russet hair, and almost immediately she ran to him, and held him tight. He smiled, caressing her warm, smiling face, and leaned in for a kiss filled with unbridled love and passion. From his long, pale fingers he removed an emerald ring, and gently slipped it on her finger. She broke away, her eyes filled with questions unexplained.
"But—"
"It's yours."
He smiled once again, and immediately all of her doubts were put to rest. She succumbed to his arms, the warmth they had to offer and the love that he gave.
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