Chapter Four

"Are you certain you want to get closer, my prince? Generally those who have huge towers isolated deep in the most ancient parts of the forest are not keen on visitors." Hermione looked up at the tower with concern. There didn't seem to be any wards which surprised her. The shimmering rainbow of spells that she had taken for wards initially that surrounded the tower appeared to prevent the entry of those intent on harm. While not a ward exactly, the spells were unique and seemed specifically keyed into the stones of the tower. Hermione wondered if the structure had been built on a ley line.

It did seem like the sort of place that another sorceress or a wizard might live. The lack of a security ward net made her think that something particularly nasty might be inside the tower, and she didn't want Draco to get all princely and decide to fight a dragon or some other ridiculousness.

He really was his own worst enemy.

"Of course I'm certain," He flashed his smirk at her, the one that always got him his way. "Have you ever known me to be anything else?" His grey eyes twinkled with mischief. He looked a great deal like his uncle, Grand Duke Sirius, just then, Hermione's first infatuation when she'd been brought to learn magic from the elderly court wizard.

"Alright, but for the record, this is a horrible idea."

Prince Draco shrugged and tied the horses to a tree near a small brook with plenty of grass to keep them entertained while their riders investigated the tower that they had come across.

The sorceress had her staff in hand and continued to sweep the area for jinxes, hexes and curses. She still could not believe that there were no wards to keep people away. Looking up at the huge tower with no discernable entrance, perhaps whoever lived here was certain that no one could find a way in.

Draco looked carefully around for more mundane threats, trapdoors, booby traps, guards or animals. They were both surprised to find nothing at all. As they neared the base of the immense stone tower, Hermione kneeled down on the ground beneath what must be a window. Her hand skated over a small patch that was covered in a layer of salt. Whoever was up there had salted the earth with their tears she thought in wonder.

"I think someone may be held prisoner above us, my prince." Hermione stepped back thoughtfully and looked upward.

Was that a person looking out the window? It was too high up for her to see clearly.

Hermione conjured her little ghostly emissary, it took the shape of a river otter.

"Please inform whomever is above that we are down at the bottom and would like to come up, if they are agreeable to the company."

The little creature flew upward and the prince smiled at it, well aware that the happy memory she used to conjure it involved him in some shape or form. She went back and forth between punching him in the face when they were fourteen or their first kiss at fifteen, often her happy memory was a combination of the two. Draco was very handsome, but his face was extremely punch-able at times.

"Hullo down there! I don't have a way to get you up here!" A voice from above called, definitely a man with fine diction. "Only my father ever comes to see me and he just appears with a pop!"

There was a slight pause and then, "I would appreciate your company quite a lot!"

Hermione shook her head and stepped backwards looking up wondering what spell would be best suited to getting the Prince and herself up there. She could perhaps make them both weightless and they would float up there?

"Hermione, I have an idea," Draco leaned against his shoulder on the tower and grinned.

"Oh no," she started.

"Oh yes. My broom is the easiest way for us to safely go straight up to that window and come back down again potentially with that man up there as it sounds as though your contention that he is being held prisoner is correct. How long has he been trapped up there…all alone?"

Draco knew better than anyone how to push Hermione's buttons and her need to make sure the mistreated were protected was always something that she would act on. He often joked with her that she had a fatal case of bravery and very little self-preservation.

She scowled at the obvious manipulation, but conceded that he was correct whoever was trapped up there likely needed rescuing.

"Fine," she sighed, "Go get your broom from the side bags."

"Huzzah," cried the Prince as he ran back the way that they had come, nearly skipping in excitement, his huge Longsword strapped to his back shaking as he went. Hermione sometimes regretted that the Prince had mastered flying immediately and that the old court wizard had trained him how to fly as part of his magic lessons. Hermione preferred her feet firmly on the ground.

As the prince, very fit in his green and silver leather pants and matching jerkin, flew towards her, sans longsword, Hermione knew that she was not going to be getting her preferences met today nor any time soon if Prince Draco had any say.

"My lady?" He reached out his hand and reluctantly she grasped it.