Chapter Twenty Six
The alley was dark and foggy, sounds from the street echoed unnervingly through the towering concrete forest. Hermione got the distinct feeling that she was being followed as she walked past dumpsters and the cardboard homes of London's lost. Steam rose from the underground, through vents in the cracked surface of the alley's floor. The sky was clouding over and only dim light from the occasional window lit her way.
Despite her surroundings, Hermione was feeling great, she couldn't believe how wrong she had been about Draco. The book had been a real revelation and, "it was even written well," she thought with a smile. She wound her way down the dark alley getting ever closer to her not-so-mystery-man.
Somewhere behind her a cat screeched in the darkness, and spinning around with a start Hermione saw a dark shape slip behind one of the large dumpsters,
"Who's there?" She called out, fear beginning to seep into her mind. No answer! "Is there anybody there?" She called out again, but again there was no reply. She turned and hurried onwards. "Just my imagination," she thought, trying to reassure herself. Within ten minutes the sounds from the street had died away, and now only the hissing of the steam and the muffled sounds of the building's hidden occupants could be heard. It was disturbingly quiet in the alley way and Hermione's footsteps rang out like gunshots. Suddenly Hermione became aware of a slight echo to her footsteps, she stood still to determine that nobody was behind her, but everything was quiet so she walked on. Within moments however the echoing started up once more. She stopped again but this time an extra step could be heard after her feet had stopped moving. Hermione span around searching the area with fearful eyes, there was nothing to be seen, she took a few steps backwards but with a startling jolt Hermione felt herself bump into something. She made a move to turn around but found she couldn't, something was holding her in place.
"Somnus," A terrible voice spoke, and Hermone felt her body grow numb, her mind became dull and as she tried to resist the urge to sleep, her eyes rolled up in her head. Then there was blackness.
Draco sat upon the black leather sofa in his penthouse apartment, the large open-plan room was bathed in the light from the hundreds of candles he had lit.
He looked over to an imposing grandfather clock, "8.05," Draco thought, "there's still time for her to show."
He got up and paced the room for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. A bouquet of flowers rested upon the glass coffee table in front of the sofa and a magnum of champagne sat in a bucket full of ice upon the large dining table, two crystal glasses were set out beside it.
The time had been dragging on all day but now that she was late the clock seemed to have sped up unnaturally. In no time at all, it seemed, the clock's hands were showing 8.45, the flowers had begun to drop their petals and the champagne was now sitting in a bucket of mostly cold water.
Draco plonked himself down on the sofa again and held his head in his hands. "I'm such a fool," he shouted, biting back the tears that threatened to pour from his broken hearted eyes.