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CHAPTER 5: Bird Song
"It is in vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility: they must have action; and they will make it if they cannot find it."
-Jane Eyre By Charlotte Bronte
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"You've rowed with her, haven't you?"
She was doing it again - accessing Draco's inner thoughts with just one sweeping look over his face. Though he tried tirelessly to look apathetic and indifferent, his mother was breaking through his mental barriers with her omniscient power to access the contents of his mind without legilmency. There was no point of trying to pretend that he wasn't angry about the things that happened between him and Granger the night before.
Draco could feel Narcissa's eyes on him, and from the corner of his eye he could see the blurred features of her face and her robes. She slowly pushed her weight off his bedpost and took a step closer to where he was sitting on his desk.
"Draco," she said firmly, a hint of annoyance in her voice.
"What mother?" he asked sharply. He hated to admit it, but he was being rather rude to her again.
Draco tried to keep his eyes glued firmly to the moving Slytherin House poster that hung diagonal to his desk. Two silver snakes weaved in and out of the emerald house emblem, almost, but never quite touching each other in their delicate dance. He got it for Christmas from his father when he was seven. Even then he was expected to uphold Salazar's mighty principles. The poster hung there ever since.
"Answer me. Did you fight with her? Last night?"
Draco clenched his jaw stubbornly. He fleetingly considered lying to her, but his realistic side got ahold of him, and he knew it would be futile. He pressed his palms to the ebony wood of his oversized desk and felt the cool surface against his hands.
"It wasn't all my fault. She's just…" he lowered his eyes. He knew he shouldn't have paused before finishing his statement, but yet again, conceptualizing how he felt about Granger was becoming too burdensome to simply curve into words. If anything, last night proved that.
"Merlin Draco," Narcissa sighed.
Suddenly, Draco felt his curved armchair lift off of the carpet and rotate 180 degrees. He was now uncomfortably facing the image of his livid mother and her outstretched wand, which was pointed at the center of his chest. He sat back in the chair, wrapping his hands tightly around the armrests on either side of him.
Her blonde hair hung in polished locks, fixed tightly over her right shoulder. The morning sun coming in from the large glass window reflected off of her carefully-pinned hair and casted shadows over her lavender robes. Her lips were pursed tightly in the same way Granger's had been the night before, but her eyes were wide with worry.
"What. Were. You. Thinking! You could have sabotaged the entire plan! You can't afford to upset her-"
"You act like it is all my fault! She provoked me. I was trying to be nice and control my temper."
"Obviously not hard enough Draco! You have to be careful about how you talk to her. I could hear the two of you last night. You sounded like wild banshees!"
"She is the banshee! Can you imagine, after all we have done for her, she becomes miss prim and proper and attacks me in the dead of night with her 'Can I leave now?' bullshit. She is moronic."
Narcissa sighed, closed her eyes and placed a hand on her temples. For a brief second, the young wizard felt ashamed for making his mother so stressed, but he needed her to understand what Granger was doing to him; how irritated she was making him.
"Well, you have to apologize."
Draco nearly fell out of his chair in disbelief.
"That's not likely mother."
"Why not?"
He folded his hands together and leaned back in the newly positioned chair. Just like Granger last night, his mother was being unreasonable.
Merlin, women.
"Because I'm not exactly her biggest fan right now. She's all different now. She has gone and gotten her bitchy little fire back, so there will be no reconciling with her. I know how she is, mother. The best we can do is make sure she stays-"
"You have to apologize."
Draco furrowed his brow.
"No-"
"Draco."
"She provoked me-"
"It doesn't matter."
Draco looked down and kicked emerald green carpet underneath him with the edge of his dress shoes. He watched one of the black laces fall from the top of his shoe and bounce against the carpet in response. He felt as if he were twelve.
"She knows we are up to something," Draco started quietly. "She said something about the Dark Lord being able to find out if we do not accomplish what he asks. She said that he is smarter than we think."
His words were met by silence. He raised his eyes slowly to look at his mother. Her lips were still pursed. For a brief second, her eyes wrinkled slightly and she let out a sad sigh.
"We shall cross that bridge when we get there. What else can we do? She might have been saying that just to make you upset. For now, you must apologize."
Her words hung in the air quite uncomfortably.
Draco's heart fell in his chest and his felt his face grow hot. Never in his life had he felt how he did in that moment.
In that moment he realized just how helpless his family had become. Just how helpless he had become. The Malfoys were scared. It was a new and abstract concept, but one that had been sneaking quietly under the engraved door handles of their mansion, peeping out from the corners of their painted smirks and boiling under the skin of the burning marks that scarred their forearms. Fear itself was always there, but it wasn't until that moment Draco realized just how prevalent it was in his life. Just how heavy it was.
For the first time in his life, the people he relied on were out of answers. His only option of surviving was wrapped tightly in Hermione Granger's tiny, clammy hands. That realization terrified Draco. He would have to rely on a plan that he wasn't sure would be successful and get a girl who he hated to feel sorry for him…a girl that he didn't understand. The problem was that as easy as it was for The Dark Lord to put him in this position, he could pull him out and have him murdered. So essentially, Granger was his only way out. His only hope. And that terrified him most of all.
Draco was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear his mother turn on her heels and make her way to the bedroom door.
His head shot up.
"Where exactly are you going?"
"I believe we are finished here. Perhaps you can ask her to join us for dinner tonight, but after you admit you were wrong-"
"Right, Right," Draco said hurriedly, motioning to her that he understood. "You still have some explaining to do."
Narcissa gave him a confused look.
"Lucius," Draco said blatantly, moving to the edge of his seat.
The older witch looked taken aback for a moment before quickly arranging her features into her trademark look of nonchalance.
"Oh, don't think I forgot, mother," he said, attempting to stifle his approaching smirk with a twitch of his lips. She thought that he forgot about his parent's marital issues amidst the Granger crisis.
She averted her eyes before she spoke in a low, careful voice.
"Your father has decided he no longer desires to be a member of this family…regarding the circumstances. So he sent an owl a few days after the battle saying that he would be taking his affairs elsewhere. And since this is my father's house, I thought it would be best to stay here. You are a legal adult so you are free to do what you want, but I didn't think it was a good idea for you and…erm…the muggleborn to be separated. So it was best for you to just stay here."
Draco took a moment before responding.
"He's embarrassed, isn't he? Of me. Of what the Dark Lord's asked me to do. He's ashamed."
He knew that his guess was correct when his mother swallowed a mouthful of air and tilted her head to the side. But she tried to lie to him anyways.
"Of course not Draco, don't be silly. Even you know that this was going to happen eventually with the way things were headed. Perhaps all along," her grey eyes filled with a far away look that he could not place. It made him feel that unsettling sense of fear once again.
"Yeah, but the fact that I'm stuck with the mudblood was the icing on the cake," Draco retorted, jumping up from his chair. "It was all he needed to leave us. I'm an embarrassment."
"No Draco-"
"Don't lie to me!"
"Calm down," Narcissa said looking over her shoulder as if Hermione would suddenly apparate into the room. "You and I both know who your father is out to help when it comes down to it. It's for the best; you don't need any distractions." She took a step back and reached her hand out as if to grasp the door handle.
Draco balled his hands into fists.
She was right, as she often was. Lucius would have left them eventually; if not before the war, then after, no matter who came out victorious. His parents' relationship had always been turbulent and tried, but they always managed to place the jagged edges of their rough marriage out of the public eye. People only saw what they let them. Regardless, he realized that there was an inherent difficulty that he would have to face now that his father was gone.
The Head Malfoy represented something stable, tangible, and familiar. Of course, there were the days at Hogwarts when someone irritated him and he could threaten to tell his father or use Lucius's seemingly innumerable connections to get him out of trouble. With his father, the Wizarding World was at his fingertips. A reality with him gone was foreign. It was wrong. He wasn't sure what was happening outside of these walls, and there was no way to control what was happening inside them either.
"Well, I'm going out to run some errands, so please think about what you are going to do and say before you make things worse," Narcissa said calmly, placing her hand on the silver handle.
With that, she left, letting his bedroom door 'click' shut behind her.
Draco sighed and fell backwards back into the armchair. He put his face into his hands.
Three things were now certain.
One, he was going to have to shove (and in a very reluctant manner) his pride aside and apologize to Granger.
Two, he realized that the fear he felt minutes before, the fear that he knew all along but never labeled, is what caused his father to leave his family. And he was not coming back.
Three, he now had a difficult choice. He could do something to combat this newfound weakness, or he could be like his father and run. It was the difference between being the person he was used to or becoming something entirely different.
Granger's words from the night before after he tried to scold her for using the Dark Lord's true name suddenly replayed in his head.
"Respect it how? By being afraid like you people? By acting like it doesn't exist will make it go away?"
Draco closed his eyes and tried not to think about it.
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Herminie brushed her index finger down leather-bound copy the 6th edition of Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them. It was a very old book. The creases of the burgundy leather of the book were filled with a light layer of dust that were concentrated in the corners and sprinkled on the soft edges. Hermione thought about it.
This was a very difficult book to get ahold of. They stopped publishing Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them about two hundred years ago, and the sixth post-medieval edition was rumored to have very few safely-guarded copies around the world. How the Malfoys managed to find such a rare book and have it jammed casually beside hundreds of other important volumes of wizarding texts in a simple spare bedroom was beyond Hermione.
She traced her finger down the spine absentmindedly before taking a step back to observe the bookshelf in its entirety once more. She felt a sharp sting of remorse as her eyes glazed over the shelf filled with a motley of leather and gold-colored texts. It reminded her of the library.
The library at Hogwarts was very important to the young witch. It acted as her enclave, her hideout, even her home. Sometimes she secretly felt the reason she loved Hogwarts as much as she did was buried somewhere between the millions of pages stowed in the magical room. But now it was gone.
Hermione looked up at the black hippogriff figures carved on opposite sides of the top of the structure. The leered back at her, their wooden beaks pointed to the floor, and their eyes seem to follow her around the room. They seemed to be protecting the books. She thought of Draco's words during their heated row the night before.
"At Malfoy Manor, someone is always watching."
She felt a shudder go up her spine and she slowly let her finger off the dusty book. A part of her wanted to pull the books of the shelf one by one and curl up by the golden embers of the fireplace and get lost in the words. She could forget everything, and it would be easy.
Another more dominant part of her knew exactly what she needed to do, and it certainly was not easy. She needed to get out of this house and into the real world. And if Draco Malfoy was not planning on helping her, she was going to have to do it on her own.
She had been up all night thinking of the practicalities her escape. The most important detail being that she would have to arrange the whole act without a wand. Perhaps if she were sneaking out of her own home in the muggle world, this would not be a problem. But the Malfoy manor was like an ancient magical time bomb that probably held all sorts of magical traps and snares to stop intruders.
And there was no way apparition could work. She tried a few hours before, which only resulted in a throbbing headache and sweat-stained robes. She guessed that apparition had been sealed off in the manor, or that her body was still too weak to complete the task.
What she needed was a wand.
Hermione moved to sit back on the edge of the king-size bed. The air under the emerald sheets billowed out from her weight and sent emerald ripples to the other end of the bed.
Narcissa's old navy blue dress robe slipped off one of her shoulders and gathered limply above her elbow. Every time she tried to yank the wretched fabric up, it fell. It was starting to distract her from the task at hand. She put her hand under her chin and tried to visualize what she had seen of the Malfoy manor so far. The hallway where her room was located reminded her of the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic. It held rows of endless doors and protruding shiny torches bearing faded sapphire flames spaced equally on the wall between each door. She could not remember which way she and Draco took to get outside during their tour of the grounds. All she could visualize was a gate, a big iron gate, like a jail cell boxing in the grounds and the house.
She didn't even know which floor she was on.
She pulled the sleeve up again, and as she adjusted herself to let go of the fabric, she heard an uneasy voice say her name.
"Granger," Draco said, interrupting her train of thought and causing her to jump back on the bed. She looked up to see him standing there in his usual outfit of black trousers and dress shirt and the same look of practiced apathy on his stupid face from the night before.
She didn't dare let go of her hand holding up the dress as she adjusted her own face to fit a look of determination and haughty indifference. She wanted to look like someone who would come out of whatever scuffles came her way with poise and wisdom. But she of all people knew looks could be deceiving.
"Malfoy, haven't you heard of the concept of knocking? You can't just walk in here like that," she said, narrowing her eyes at him in hopes of intimidating him.
She tried to read the expression on his face, but he stared at her with the same uninterested look. He waited a few moments before speaking.
"Right Granger. Next time maybe. I need to talk to you."
"I've got nothing to say to you."
His jaw twitched, and he looked as if he wanted to say something but at the last minute thought against it.
"I think we got off the wrong start-"
Hermione clutched the dress robes tighter to her chest, and resisted the urge to stand up to express her anger. No need to be closer to him.
"Understatement of the bloody year Malfoy. I believe we got off to 'the wrong start' the day you called me a mud-"
"I know, I know, I know." To Hermione's surprise, he looked almost contemplative. He closed his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I just think last night we did not handle things the right way. And I'm here," Draco paused, grimaced and wrinkled his nose in annoyance. "I wanted to let you know you aren't the only person in the wrong."
What is that supposed to mean?
It took Hermione a few seconds to process what he said. And when she did, her response scared both of them.
She felt the laugh in her chest before it reached her throat. She almost choked on it because it came so suddenly. Before she knew it, her body started to shake from the tremors of laughter. It was the first time she so much as smiled since the war, and she didn't know how much she missed the concept of humor until she was doubling over. It felt good.
"What's so fucking funny?" He asked sharply, opening his eyes and looking more annoyed then ever.
Hermione pressed her free hand over her mouth to mute the bounds of laughter, but it didn't stop the shaking.
"You heard me Granger, what are you on about?"
She composed herself by taking deep breaths and pressing her free hand firmly to her stomach to stop the tremors.
Merlin he couldn't be serious. Even Draco Malfoy wasn't that stupid.
"Its just," She pressed her hand over her lips to stifle a fit of giggles ignoring Draco who was rolling his eyes at her. "You…just…Is that supposed to be an apology? "
Draco looked taken aback, then for a brief moment something that resembled hurt, but he quickly fell back into tight indifference.
"So what if it is?"
"You," she held down another lose bound of giggles. "I mean really Malfoy. Please."
She felt herself gaining control slowly. She straightened her back. "You can't be serious."
"Why not?" he questioned.
"I mean…really. Just leave it out. Don't apologize if you don't mean it, and especially if you are going to word it the way that you did. 'You weren't the only person in the wrong'? What does that even mean Malfoy? You don't apologize to someone by focusing on what the other person did wrong. Didn't your mother teach you-"
"Don't you dare insult my mother, especially after everything she has done for you," he said, raising his voice and leaving an echo throughout the room.
"Ahh, there is the Malfoy I know," she said throwing him a smirk.
"Whatever Granger, I didn't have to do this-"
"You shouldn't have to either. Especially since you obviously don't care about me. Like I said last night, you're probably apologizing to me as a part of a plan to save yourself. You're so predictable." Hermione rolled her eyes and looked down at the green carpet.
"Are we done, Granger?" he asked sarcastically.
"Actually no. We're not," she spat. His sarcastic tone reminded her of her anger from the night before. The unfinished nature of the whole ordeal added with Draco's lame, half-interested, flimsy apology was enough to set the witch into a rage again.
Just who did he think he was?
"No, I'm not." She repeated. "How dare you even dream of coming in here with that terrible excuse for an apology? How dare you, after everything you and your people havedone to my friends, come in here and say sorry for just one stupid argument. A half-arsed apology at best. How dare you, after everything that has happened from this war, ever think that I would be interested in hearing what you have to say? You're a miserable human being. You can take your apology and stick it someplace warm. I don't accept it. Now sod off."
Hermione felt the unfamiliar flush of her cheeks that she felt whenever she used profanity. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest.
"Its not that simple Granger," he replied, in a much quieter tone then she expected. Usually, he would be just as mad as she was by this stage in the argument.
"Yes, sure Malfoy its not that simple because you most likely have some inane plan to get me to save your arse from Voldemort. Forget about it, just go ahead and do it."
Draco tilted his head and gave her a weary look.
"Do what?" he asked.
Hermione paused and tried to imagine the words coming out of her mouth. Merlin, she never considered uttering these words to anyone, least of all Draco Malfoy.
"Force yourself on me."
The words came out rushed and almost whispered. After seeing his reaction, a small part of her wished she could take it back.
He looked disgusted.
"I told you last night," he hissed. " I won't try anything. If you don't want believe anything I say, fine. But you can trust me when I say, I will never lay a hand on you."
Hermione's heart plummeted in her chest. She hadn't expected him to be so direct and straightforward. She wanted to tell herself that his reaction was refreshing and comforting, but for some reason his disgust made her feel jaded.
"Well, keep it that way," she snapped awkwardly, pointing to the door. "I'm finished with you."
He clenched his jaw and eyed her slowly as if he was debating with himself to say something, but it looked like he thought against it the last moment.
"Yeah Granger," was all he said instead, before he turned and slammed the door in her face for the second time in the past twenty-four hours.
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Later that night, Hermione found herself pacing the bedroom in long strides and feeling more like herself than she had in the past few months. The argument with Draco had been a victory for her, but she knew something was still off. The way he looked annoyed and even a little hurt was different than the state she left him in during their last argument - furious and crazed.
"He is trying."
Hermione pushed the odd thought aside and continued to look at the situation realistically. No need to start feeling remorseful for Draco Malfoy. After all, she was the one who was going to be killed. She was the one who had no more friends. Surely, his pride was not worth those things.
But these were just trifles compared to the big picture. She was making her way to the right side of the room facing the giant oak door when she heard a light tapping from the other side. Hermione stopped in her tracks adjacent to the bed.
Was he really back for round three?
"I thought I told you to sod off!" she yelled reaching, out of habit, into the pocket of the droopy silk robes in search of her wand. But of course, it wasn't there.
"Missus?" a reluctant squeaky voice asked in return.
Hermione slapped her hand over her forehead. Of course, how could she forget? The house-elf made his way to her room around this time of night to bring her dinner.
"So sorry," she cried, yanking the massive door open and kneeling slightly to usher the creature in with her free hand. "Come on in Sonny…I thought you were somebody else."
"Yes missus," Sonny said, trying to navigate his way while holding up a multicolored stack of folded dress robes in one hand, and a covered silver dishpan in the other.
Hermione dove to take the piles from the elf, but he veered to the right in order to avoid her assistance.
"Sonny, let me help; you're too small to be carrying-"
"No, No, No missus, Sonny will hold all the things for missus."
"I understand that you want to do you job, but it doesn't matter; I will be happy to help you."
She attempted, with more force, to grab the dishpan, but the elf veered again, this time reaching the bedside table and placing the pan down before she could stop him. He placed the folded robes on the bed.
"These robes of Mrs. Malfoy that are better for misses because she is small. Mr. Malfoy says Mrs. Malfoy's dresses is big on missus," Sonny explained, pointing to the clothes.
Hermione blushed and pulled the robe's sleeve over her shoulder again.
Malfoy noticed that my clothes didn't fit?
It seemed so out of character. When they fought, she couldn't imagine him focusing on anything other than his own irrational, judgmental anger. But to notice that her robes didn't fit, he had to be really watching her closely.
She looked at the pile and thanked the elf.
As he turned to go, Hermione clutched the back of his dirty rags to stop him.
"Sonny, I," she paused and gathered herself, choosing her words closely. "I wanted to ask you something."
Sonny's saucepan-shaped eyes widened, and his wrinkly ears twitched in surprise. Sonny was one of the cutest house elves she ever seen. He was smaller than Dobby or Winky and reminded the witch of a pruney baby with floppy ears and wide chestnut-colored eyes.
She smiled at the creature to reassure him, and then continued.
"Is there any way you could tell me more about the manor? Do you know of any enchantments or spells the Malfoys have on the mansion to keep it safe? Just interested, you know…I like to read," she promised, pointing to the bookshelf.
Sonny's ears twitched a second time, and his eyes widened in surprise.
Poor thing.
This was probably the first time in his life that someone asked for his input on anything.
But that was okay because she knew he was the only living thing in that house that could tell her what she wanted to know.
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The next night, Hermione gave the room a finial look over before straightening her jumper. She asked Sonny to clean and repair her clothes she wore during the battle.
Never in her life was she more excited to be in jeans, trainers and a jumper. Apparently Narcissa Malfoy did not wear pants. Her eyes scanned the range of the room. She looked at the old fireplace, the bed she had spent days in, and the frilly drapes. She almost felt nostalgic. This place had housed her during the most difficult days of her life and now she was leaving. She finally turned to look at the old bookshelf in the corner, and something that reminded Hermione of sadness hit her suddenly.
"There will be a time for books later."
She nodded to herself firmly.
"Now or never."
Tonight she was going to escape. After discussing spending almost two hours with Sonny the house-elf discussing the ins and outs of the Malfoy manor, she could be considered an expert. Almost.
Hermione, as she often did, planned the whole ordeal obsessively, mentally imagining her path for the reminder of the day, bringing together bits and pieces of images of the house's hallways, staircases and doors, trying to work out the path perfectly. Implementation was the only phase left.
She let out an anxious sigh and crept to the door, slowly pulling her body through the open slimmer. She opened it just enough to let her body through. The sapphire embers from the magically lit hallway reflected off every door and the marble floor, causing Hermione's shadow to stretch across the length of the corridor like a floating grey ghost. It took her a moment to adjust to the odd-colored lighting. She rubbed her eyes with her palm. She was sweating. The fear was almost palpable. Being in the cold, empty hallway in the blue shadows was different from imagining it. It was much larger than she pictured in her mind. It was colder. A nearby statue's shadow seemed to loom over her trembling figure, the white shiny gold plaque beneath the wizard's bust gleaming brightly in the shadows.
She looked ahead of her. The blue lamps only lit a distance about 10 feet ahead of her. She couldn't even see the door of the room she knew to be Draco's. She felt the sweat moving to her forehead. A burst of icy air brushed past her and gently pulled her bangs off her forehead. Hermione shivered and pulled her jacket closer. She had the strange feeling she was being watched.
She had to keep going.
As she tiptoed toward the eerie blue darkness, she heard a muffled sound her right. She stopped dead in her tracks and sheer panic bubbled in her stomach. She felt as if she would vomit.
She tried to move slowly to the left to shield herself in the shadows, but as she slid toward the wall, one stubborn foot tripped over a bump in the carpet, which sent her entire body clumsily into the wall behind her. Her body thudded against the wall; it was not loud, but enough to set uncontrollable panic loose in her mind. She hissed and closed her eyes, silently cursing her stupidity. This wasn't going the way she planed.
She looked ahead. After a few moments her eyes adjusted, and she realized that the sound she heard was a lazy snore from a sleeping witch in a portrait. The overweight witch in purple hair rollers had her neck comfortable tucked tightly to her chest. As if on cue, the painting let out another terse snore, massive chest rising with the feat. Hermione breathed a shaky sigh of relief. She had forgotten about the portraits.
She took a few moments to regain her composure and slowly crept back into the darkness.
She tiptoed down the hallway counting the doors she passed as she traveled.
1.
2.
3.
4.
When she got to the fifth door, she slowed her pace to slip past Draco's door with as little sound as physically possible because she knew from her earlier experience that he had a tendency to wake up at night. She couldn't risk him waking up. She didn't hear a single sound coming from his room. It was eerily quiet. It was almost as if the sleeping paintings held their breaths while she slid past her captor. It was so quiet Hermione imagined that he wasn't even in the room. For a panicky moment she imaged him tearing down the hallway as he did the night before and catching her. She pictured him storming out of the blue cloud of shadows and backing her into the wall while jabbing his wand at her throat…
She pushed the thought away.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she got six doors from her room.
Almost at the staircase.
She reached the break in the wall that Sonny assured her would be the right side of the Malfoy's adorned split staircase. She paused. This is where things got complicated. She noticed from her few departures outside of the guestroom, that the staircase's stairs were made out of wood, covered in spotted emerald carpet. She couldn't take the risk of traveling down them by foot, for fear of creating noise and waking Malfoy up. So she had to be creative. It took her a half an hour to come up with the idea, and she almost laughed when it finally came into her mind. It was ludicrous. She was going to slide down the staircase if she couldn't walk it without causing a commotion.
She placed her hand tightly on the golden knob that stuck out of the top of the gold railing. She looked down into the dark. The staircase faded as it descended into the darkness like a headless golden snake. It was higher up than she had anticipated.
Hermione gulped.
Her palms were sweaty, and she couldn't get a good hold on the rail.
She mentally counted to three and lifted her body up with her arms onto the jeweled railing with less effort than she expected. She either lost weight or she was getting her strength back. But there was not time to think about those things.
She straddled the railing so that her legs hung on opposite sides and took another breath before letting go.
Just as she suspected, the gloss of the railing was slick enough to slide her down the railing without making a sound. That was until she reached the end of the staircase.
When she ran into the finial at the end of the railing, she lost her balance and fell ungracefully off the edge. Her hands were so sweaty that when she tried to reach out to regain her balance, her grip slipped, and her head hit the marble of the floor with a 'bang'.
The sound of her fall echoed through the large empty room. She heard shuffling somewhere in the darkness of the foyer. A breeze rushed through the room, and she realized that the sound was a nearby curtain. She had no idea how big the room was; all she could see was darkness. It was not blue darkness as the hallway upstairs; this was a black, all-encompassing darkness. It was the kind of blackness that made any inhabitant uncertain of their surroundings. It was time to get out of there.
She quickly propelled her body off the side of the staircase and reorganized herself into an awkward crouching position to keep her balance. She looked behind her. Her head was inches away from one of the staircase's golden spindles. If she had hit her head on that, she could have risked making even more noise from the reverberations. She had to be more careful.
She stood up and tiptoed to the side of the staircase, where Sonny said that he slept. She placed her hands against the Slytherin green wallpaper adorned with shiny raincloud-colored snakes with beady red eyes. Like the hippogriffs on the bookshelf in her room, they seemed to be watching her every move. She placed her hand flat against the wallpaper and began feeling her way around.
As she searched, for a brief moment, she wondered if Sonny had lied to her. What if there was no door handle? What if she would be stuck in the darkness with no way to escape? What if Draco found her like that the next morning, curled in a ball and feeble?
She battled the frightening image by frantically running her hands over the wallpaper. She didn't care that her movements were making a ruckus. She felt as if she might vomit again.
But whenever Hermione began to think the worst, small miracles came to her.
It took her a minute, but when she found the tiny black handle that Sonny told her lead to his cabinet, a surge of joy filled her chest.
Hermione swung the door open and crawled into the cabinet as if she had been practicing her escape whole life. The cupboard was dark and filled with musty air. She stifled a cough that was charging up her throat due to the dead air. She was terrified to make a sound and wake up Sonny.
She calmed her nerves by standing in place for a few moments, while taking deep breaths. Another gulp of unseemly air filled her lungs.
Why did they have to put him in this tiny cupboard? It was tragic.
Honestly, as if the Malfoys would treat a living being with even a shred of decency.
She knew exactly what she had to do now. Poor Sonny had told her all the details without even knowing that he was helping her escape. He wished she could bring him with her, but she knew if her task were unsuccessful, he would be the first one killed by the Death Eaters.
She looked ahead, and from the light streaming in from the hallway, she saw three small house-elf-sized wooden doors just like Sonny claimed.
In her panic, she had to stop and take a moment to remember the orders that the doors went in.
The first one led to his sleeping corridors, the second led to a tunnel that traveled to the manor grounds, and the last led to a tunnel that carried the traveler to a spot right outside the Malfoy Manor gate.
Hermione almost cried with relief as she reached for the handle of the third door.
.
.
Twenty minutes later, the eager witch pulled her body out of the hole of the dark tunnel and into the crisp night air. Around the same time that night, Draco Malfoy woke abruptly from his sleep.
.
.
A/N: Hey guys! So sorry for the wait, school work has been insane this semester and is cutting into my FF time. I hoped you like this chapter (hehe cliffy...).
Thanks to 'arosesinnocence' for being an amazingly wonderful and perfect beta ( I feel like I'm missing a comma in there or maybe too many modifiers haha). Also to 'River in Egypt' for your thoughtful review, I really appreciate it, and 'janjan2009' for reviewing every chapter.
Just so ya'll know, I'm planning on putting a lot chapters up in the next month so be prepared. And from this point forward, there will be so much Dramione that you will vomit from the sheer amount. I just needed to set up some things in the first few chapters so I hope you did not get bored with all this introductory shit.
Please review!
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