Finally managed to write a second chapter :) Many thanks to all the lovely reviewers and readers :) Hope you like it.


Second Jump

For a moment, he felt time and space dissolve and it was only them, stuck in this narrow place, with no air and no light and he was sure, for some reason, that they were going to die. In fact, he imagined a great big fire that would engulf them the minute he opened the door.

The moment passed, however.

And they were still in one piece. Or at least, he still felt whole, physically. Hermione was still leaning on him completely, unconscious and asleep.

He tried to discern any noise coming from outside, in order to ascertain which part of the castle they had ended up in.

There were some muffled sounds coming from afar; they reminded him of broomsticks swishing through the air, but nothing concrete enough to pinpoint.

He hoped his estimations had been correct and that this was the Room of Requirement and not the Quidditch field.

As it turned out, however, it was neither.

He gently pushed the door open and peeked outside, hoping against hope that whatever greeted him would not be a threat.

It was dark, but not the kind of darkness that you could not see through. He could make out the large empty space in front of him and certain dark shadows that crowded the corners of the room.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out the objects standing against the walls; disassembled computers, old furniture, gardening tools, large plastic bags, rubber, pipes and cardboard boxes. Of course, Draco had little idea what half of those things were, but it wasn't inconceivable that this might still be the Room of Requirement.

He took out his wand and muttered "Lumos!" quietly.

The whole place resembled a crummy warehouse filled with various objects which had gone in disuse.

Draco placed Hermione down gently so that she was leaning against the Cabinet door and walked further into the warehouse.

He tried a revealing charm on the objects around him. If they were magical, they would at least have a reaction.

One of the rickety chairs in the corner was thrown backwards, but nothing else happened.

He was starting to worry.

It was at this point that those muffled sounds he had heard inside the Cabinet became clearer and clearer and he realized, his stomach sinking rapidly, that those were traffic noises. He did not know much about the Muggle world, but he knew Muggle cars and Muggle towns and the sounds coming from beyond these walls were definitely those of a busy street during rush hour.

Okay, Draco. Focus. This must be some kind of mistake, he told himself.

What would the Cabinet be doing in a Muggle place, in a Muggle town? Why would it be outside of Hogwarts to begin with? Had they got rid of it? Had they lost it? But why here of all places?

All these questions were very reasonable, but not very helpful at the moment since there was little he could do about the current situation.

But he had to sprint into action; he had to do something.

That was problematic for someone like him; he was not used to unknown, foreign environments. And if he had been prepared for something, it had not included being semi-trapped in an unknown location with Hermione Mudbl-

...with Hermione Granger. Who was unconscious and wounded, as luck would have it.

Don't panic. Do not panic.

There had to be a way out of here, a door or something similar.

Looking for an exit proved to be harder than he thought as his Lumos was not strong enough to reach the end of the warehouse.

But at length, he saw a sliver of light coming from underneath a wall.

Only it wasn't a wall. It was some sort of contraption that could be raised somehow. It must have been raised to let in at least that small amount of light.

Draco wondered if his magic could open it.

He was about to point his wand at the "door" when he realized something, something that had not crossed his mind before.

The more magic he used, the easier he would be to track down by his father and fellow Death Eaters.

He bore the Mark, which meant that his magic was infused with Voldemort's and, consequently, linked to the other followers' too.

Ergo, if he wanted his escape to be effective, if he wanted to remain hidden, he could not perform magic.

He, Draco Malfoy, Pureblood and Death Eater, could not perform any magic.

The reality hit him all too hard.

Trembling, he lowered his wand and turned away. He felt his chest would explode. There was no way out of this.

He was doomed. He had to be. Without magic, he and Granger would be goners, because Bellatrix had made sure to take her wand.

And he had already performed enough magic to make sure a cavalcade of Death Eaters would come reigning down on him.

In fact, by now, his father had probably already discovered he was gone, because his mother could not keep it a secret, even if she wanted to.

He would notice the open Cabinet in his room and he would come to the obvious conclusion. Then, all he had to do was charm the object to show him the last location and -

He started running. Fast.

He had to get back to the Cabinet and Granger. His Lumos had vanished and he didn't want to risk casting another, so he struggled to reach her through the darkness.

Would he find his way back to her?

Unlikely, but he had to.

He had to get her away from the Cabinet and destroy it. That would be the last bit of magic he used. It would keep them away for a while, at least.

He had to count on that. He had to. Because he was running through darkness and it was the first time in his life that he was doing something like this and he had crushing doubts.

It would be so much easier to go back, so much easier.

In fact, why not? Why not...go back?

Go back to what?

He suddenly stopped and bent down, panting. He was not used to moving so fast. He needed to catch his breath. He was out of shape.

Cold sweat glided down his spine as his eyes surveyed the darkness before him.

Where was he? How could he ever hope to get out of here?

He was lost.

"Mmm..."

He raised his head. That sound. What was it? A whimper?

Her whimper. He had heard it. It was coming from somewhere behind him. He had gone past her.

He turned around and narrowed his eyes searchingly.

"Granger?" he called out, his voice raw and nervous.

She did not answer, but he had already spotted her, lying against the door of the Cabinet, like a puppet whose strings had been cut off.

He crouched down and inspected her face, turning one cheek, then another.

Still unconscious. But she would soon wake up.

He pulled her away from the Cabinet and let her lie down on the cold cement, not knowing what else to do. She would have to bear it until he was through. He also took out the small bag he had brought with him and threw it on the ground.

Then he raised his wand at the Cabinet and swallowed hard.

This was it.

If he did this, if he burned it down, that would be it. He would seal himself off completely.

No turning back.

He had thought going into the Cabinet with her had been a leap of faith, but this one was far bigger and far more dangerous.

He knew he had to do it; something inside of him urged him to do it, because he could not live with himself anymore, he could not live at the Manor anymore, he just couldn't.

And yet...

He had never felt more alive. Not even when he had been face to face with Dumbledore that ill-fated night.

Incendio!

The sight was terrible and beautiful at the same time. He was cutting himself off completely. The flames flicked back and forth menacingly but they could not touch him.

They swallowed the Cabinet whole and made the wood crack and heave as the fire ate away its magic.

Blue and green flames immerged from the red ones, trying to fight back, trying to resist and he realized what a dreadful crime it was to "kill" such a majestic object.

But he had no other choice.

Warmth and light spread around him until the warehouse was no longer dark.

And surely enough, Granger started to stir.

She was still far away from full consciousness but she was moving, her eyelashes flickering against the waves of heat, her limbs trying feebly to regain mobility.

When smoke began coming out of the Cabinet and reached the ceiling, a sudden deafening sound started ringing from above, making Draco jump.

It sounded like a call for battle. It was the fire alarm. And it was growing louder and louder.

Panicking, Draco thought that someone must have found them out and coughing from the smoke, he crouched down again, flung the bag over his shoulder and took Granger in his arms.

It was far, far too late to turn back now.

The damage was done. All he could do was move forward, even if that meant dying. He would die anyway. He was sure of it.

He ran with her in his arms towards that sliver of light he had noticed before.

It's not that he was brave. No, he was shaking on the inside. Shaking like a leaf. But there was no other option. Despair was fueling him.

He was scared, very, very scared.

He did not want to die. He wanted to live forever, if that were possible. He wanted to be safe, he wanted to be strong.

He did not want to be here, with her.

He had never wanted things to take such a turn, but then again he had never wanted this life. The Death-Eaters had chosen him, not the other way around and for a while, he had been very proud.

Now, he was running away from everything he had previously embraced and his mind was a complete blank, refusing to cope with this new and ghastly life.

The smoke was spreading fast. It was getting difficult to breathe and all you could smell was burnt wood and ash.

He arrived at the strange door he had come across before and he ran towards it, banging his fists against it desperately.

The smoke was now closer than ever. It was surrounding him from all sides.

He heard sirens in the distance.

Whatever was behind this door, it had to be a street, something open, fresh air.

He banged harder and harder, Granger's body colliding with the metal each time he threw himself against it.

He tried it with his feet. Anything to open this contraption.

If he didn't come up with a solution soon, he would have to use magic again, lots of it, in order to put out the fire and extinguish the smoke.

He was ready to give up and reach for his wand.

Suddenly, his foot hit against a sort of bar. It was a lever.

Mad hope revived him. His hand grabbed it and pulled it towards him.

And surely enough, the door rose into the ceiling.

He almost wanted to laugh in relief, but there was no time. The door was now raised enough for him to pass and without looking back he stepped through, into the noise, into a new world.

He found himself in the middle of a back alley.

Blocks and blocks of flats spread in front of him, brick after brick, red, grey and yellow. To his left the alley led up to the main street. To his right, he could see several trash bins and a building's fire exit staircase.

He was not sure what he was supposed to do, which way to go. It was safe to say he was unfamiliar with this environment. He had been in cities before, plenty of times, but only in hotels and magical places, hidden from the Muggle eye. He only vaguely remembered this kind of infrastructure and architecture.

The choice was made for him, however, because the sirens he had heard before materialized into a red van which blocked the alley entirely. The back was teeming with men in red uniforms. Fire-fighters.

He saw them run in his direction, carrying hydraulic pumps. He imagined they must be some form of Muggle Security in case of such accidents. One of them had noticed him and waved at Draco, shouting in a friendly voice:

"You there! Are you all right?"

The boy froze up and stared back in horror. He couldn't let them reach him, no matter their intentions.

They would discover something was wrong. Granger's wounds were magical. That would raise a few eyebrows.

And he couldn't reveal their identities, could he? Sure, they were probably Muggles but nowhere was safe and you could trust no one. Valuable lessons his father had imparted to him.

Knocking against the trash bins, he ran towards the fire exit. His plan would not work. He knew it, but he couldn't run in the other direction. Granger was not exactly light weight; his task was not only incredibly difficult, but altogether impossible.

How he would get up there with her on his back was anyone's guess.

It was at times like these that Draco wished he could disappear. Disappear and never be found.

That's it! I'll Apparate!

No! What about staying hidden? They'll find you out if you do!

They'll find me out anyway!

And where would you Apparate anyway?

He shook his head. If he stayed, those men would ask questions he was not ready to answer.

He hid behind the trash bins and held onto the girl tightly.

Where could he Apparate to? Where was safe? Family wasn't an option, he had no friends, none that could hide him and...Hogwarts?

You couldn't Apparate into Hogwarts, not even Hogsmeade.

Anywhere else?

He looked up at the building in front of him. If he could only fly up to that staircase, he knew there had to be a way out. Out of this dismal place.

There were several posters glued to the outward wall. He surveyed them distractedly.

Concerts, festivals, shopping deals...

The Mansford Inn. Only 7 miles away. There was a picture of the front porch and a red sign indicating the telephone number and address.

It was as good as any. No, scratch that. It was the best.

It would have to do.

Last bit of magic, I promise, he told himself shutting his eyes. Last bit.


Had it worked? It had to. He had visualized it. He had really focused hard on that front porch. He had repeated the name in his head so many times he felt he knew it all too well, like a rhyme in a lullaby.

And surely enough, when he opened his eyes and the nausea died down, he was standing in front of the very same establishment.

It was somewhere on the outskirts of town. There were several semidetached houses in the vicinity. It looked like a quiet and dull neighbourhood.

For the first time, he allowed himself to sigh in relief and in doing so, a small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

Granger was still in his arms and his arms and legs ached terribly, but he had done it. Somehow, he had done it.

He surveyed her figure shrewdly.

She didn't look that bad on the , not as bad as before. The wounds were of a magical source and the physical aftermath was not as serious as he had first ascertained. There was blood on her face and her clothes and she looked as if she had not bathed in a while, but other than that, she did not look like she was on her deathbed. Hell, she did not look like someone who'd gone through torture. Not on the outside.

But she did look very conspicuous.

He remembered he had thrown a robe in his bag and he thought it might come in handy now, but it was too late.

The front door was opened suddenly and an elderly lady and what appeared to be her husband walked out, carrying suitcases.

"Good Heavens! Young man! What are you doing to that poor girl?" the elderly woman asked in shock.

Draco wrapped his hand around Granger's waist, promising himself he would not let go.