Four

The Touch of Freedom

Freedom is never given; it is won. – A. Philip Randolph

Dreams were funny things, some people said that they had different meanings and others just said that it was the mind creating images that comfort you but they just that; creations. They can be goals or just imaginings but most of us forget our dreams within the first few minutes of waking up.

Hermione rarely forgot the most vivid dreams and most of the time she didn't want to. This time, however, was different. One minute she was staring into the boring darkness and then the next she was standing amongst a battle field. She turned quickly, surveying, calculating and analysing the scene. A forest lay in the distance, several trees were blackened stalks and others had fallen to the ground, guarding the centre of the woodland. Around her were rubble and small fires had erupted, lighting the area. The sky was grey, gloomy and on the edge of raining as if the heavens were going to cry over the fallen. Plumes of black smoke broke the grey surface. Wails broke her concentration. People were crying, yelling, shouting in horror.

Turning her head she caught sight of a greying woman dragging a red headed woman away. A Weasley? Looking closer she saw another red head lying on the floor. "NO!" she yelled and ran. It felt like the faster she ran the farer away she got. Suddenly the grey headed woman swivelled her head; Professor McGonagall.

"Hermione," she sighed and then Hermione was standing in front of the pair and Mrs Weasley was trying to grab at her, her words jumbled with her blubbering. The only word that she got was Ron. Hermione froze and turned towards the fallen red head. It was indeed Ron. One minute, she was standing looking at him and the next she was kneeling down, cradling his head in her lap. His lifeless, glassy eyes stared up at the sky, a laugh was frozen on his lips, his skin was marred with cuts and bruises and he was just a shell. Ron was dead.

"No, no, no. This wasn't meant to happen," she was saying despite not feeling the words pass her lips. She looked back down to Ron, this wasn't supposed to happen, how did this happen? She was spewing out words incoherently as she cradled his head in her arms, tears obstructing her ability to see clearly. But she couldn't stop thinking that Ron didn't deserve this; Ron was never supposed to die. How could she let this happen? She was crying in steady streams. She asked the question on how it happened and she got an answer.

"The killing curse by the Lord himself," McGonagall sighed, trying to quieten Molly's screams of despair. Suddenly Lavender was by Ron and yelling at the body, she pushed Hermione to the floor and yelled at her that she hadn't been there when Ron needed her. Stones dug their way into the skin of her palms but she didn't mind, it was a slight pain compared to the pain of losing Ron. She had loved the boy and now he was gone, she didn't even tell him that she loved him. "Hermione what happened to you?" Not knowing what her Professor was going on about Hermione looked down, Hermione was hurt yes, she had a cut lip, a bump on her head and bruises littered her otherwise clear skin, but there was no 'mudblood' scar or any other scar. This was clearly a dream. "Where were you Hermione?" her Professor asked her but Hermione wasn't focussed on that she was focussed on the fact that McGonagall had said 'the Lord' did that mean that Lord Voldemort had won? If that was the case where was Harry?

"Where is Harry?" Hermione asked,

"Dear, we don't know, he disappeared a while ago and he hasn't been seen by a Surrender or a death eater," Okay this was weird, for one Harry had got over his hero complex and had abandoned his responsibilities and two the Light side had surrendered to Voldemort?

"You surrendered," Hermione emptily said, getting up from her position on the ground, ignoring Lavender's wailing and insults that Hermione had abandoned Ron, that she had left him for death and that Hermione was on the Dark Side all along and had plotted to kill her Ron.

"We had no choice, the Lord was going to kill everyone we held dear, there was no other possibility but to surrender and keep us and our loved ones alive,"

"There is always a choice," and Hermione said and a silence settled over them. Suddenly she was grabbed and she was being hauled backward, held roughly by Lord Voldemort. She was screaming and kicking and yelling for help but no one would they were just staring at her like this was a normal occurrence.

"Ah, I found you," With Ron dead and Harry M.I.A she was the last survivor with the knowledge of the Horcruxes but in this twisted reality what ones were destroyed? What ones were left? She just didn't know and because of that she had failed them. "You thought you got all of the Horcruxes didn't you?" Oh, he knew. She was dead. "But with Weasley and Potter dead, you're the only one left," Harry was dead; she was the only one left. Her heart broke again. How could she do this? She was in the hands of Lord Voldemort and she couldn't defeat him now? "I'll get this over with," Hermione went limp in his grip, she could feel everyone's eyes on them and she was frightened, but she would see Harry and Ron and every else that was dead so what was there to be afraid of? "Avada Kedavra," there was a flash of bright green light then nothing...

Hermione threw her body upwards and twisted her hands into the worn mattress. That was creepy. A reality where Harry and Ron were dead and Lord Voldemort had won was almost impossible, she couldn't let that happen. But then again Hermione couldn't even fathom McGonagall surrendering to Voldemort of all people. Hastily, Hermione looked around, there was no shackle of her wrist and she had strength. She got up, maybe she could escape. Walking quickly and silently to the door she found it unlocked. From her position she could hear voices. "All in a day's work," a death eater said and his companion chuckled.

"I'm so glad that bitch is gone, man she was a pain,"

"I wonder how they're gonna cope, the poor lambs – "

"Their pain brings a smile to my face," the companion sighed and Hermione wondered who they were talking about. She looked back and on the mattress there were faint traces of blood, she supposed that it was from her many wounds. She cautiously walked out of the door. She walked out into the Burrow? Around the table were Harry, Ron, the Weasley's, Remus, Tonks and Hagrid. They were crying.

"I can't believe she's gone," Ron sobbed.

"She's Hermione she went down with a fight, but there's this empty space now," Harry sighed and buried his head further down into his arms. She was dead? And these were their reactions.

"Voldemort got what he deserved – "

"No one gets away with killing our smart girl," The twins muttered and the adults tried to console the teenagers but words couldn't comfort them. The adults were doing no better either, mugs of alcohol sat on the table. Remus drained his, re-filled and then sighed despairingly.

"Such a smart girl Hermione was the brightest witch of our age and she's gone," he said and Tonks patted his arm.

"She's in a better place in heaven," Tonks replied and took a gulp of her Fire whiskey.

"If there is a heaven," Bill murmured.

"Of course there's a heaven Bill, Hermione will probably be in a library filled with every book you could imagine," Mrs Weasley gasped and tried to still her shaking hands.

"Only Hermione," Mr Weasley chuckled weakly, "We'll miss her but there will be a time where we will meet her again," The mood turned sombre once again. Then the Burrow melted into the home she had spent most of her years. Her parent's sat on the couch; her mother was buried within the confines of her father's arms. They were sobbing, wailing, her mother cursing the man who had took her baby girl away from them. Hermione wanted to go to them, to comfort them, to tell them that they were going to be alright but she couldn't. Even if she had they wouldn't see her, she was dead. Despair clung to the air around them.

"They'll get over it in time," Hermione looked up and saw herself? The other her was dressed in all white, a symbol of being angelic. Hermione questioned the other her. "You get over it too,"

"How can I get over the possibility of dying?"

"Well let's put it this way, it's not the cruellest death is it? I mean you could've been shot or stabbed or ran over or tortured or beaten to death. It's slow and it's painful but a killing curse is quick and painless, much more comforting," the other her just didn't get it. This was the biggest pile of dragon dung, how could she accept dying?

"But I don't want to die," Hermione whined. It was true, she wanted to do much more, learn much more. Anyway she couldn't die, she had Harry and Ron to think about, what would they do without her? And her parents, she couldn't leave them behind.

"Okay would you rather die in that cell because you were tortured too much or would you rather be killed in a place where you have happy memories and with a simple spell?"

"You're not getting this. I. Don't. Want. To die," Hermione felt like stamping her foot.

"If it going to happen, it's going to happen, I guess it's almost fate."

"Don't tell me you believe in Divination," Hermione huffed.

"We both know the answer to that but dying isn't all that bad, you might think that you're leaving everybody behind but they'll be alright you know," It seemed like this version of her was very tactile as she wiped away every worry that Hermione had. Well she was Hermione as well so it was guaranteed. The other her looked over to her parents still crying and holding on to each for dear life on the couch "They'll carry on, like we all have to when we lose someone, they'll be fine," Hermione still wasn't convinced. "What can you possibly do now? You're in a cell and you have no wand, no strength, no plans you can't escape this," she sighed again "C'mon follow me,"

The other Hermione led her upstairs to her room and she told Hermione to look at and take in all of the photos of her life. From childhood to teenager, to a grown intelligent woman, still photographs to moving ones. It was all there; her life. "Are you ready?" the other her said and Hermione nodded.

"Okay," she said, the other her smiled she had won. There was nothing Hermione could do now, "Okay," she repeated. She found herself back in the dungeon on the mattress, shackle in place, wand snapped by her side. She could hear footsteps, they were echoing all around her. It was time. She was ready, she was ready to die.

"Wake up," something tickled her ear, she twitched. "Wake up," her body was shook. Hermione questioned it and stared intently into the darkness. "WAKE UP!" she fumbled and flailed and then heard a muffled shout. Peeling back her eyelids she found Draco Malfoy kneeling next to her clutching his nose. Hermione whimpered, was this a dream too? "I try to help you Granger and all I get is a punch on the nose," he muttered pulling his hand away to reveal a slight taint of red on his pale skin.

"You're not real," she whimpered, shivering in fright, this was all an illusion of her mind. Maybe he was the one that would escort her to Diagon Alley or maybe he would be the one to save her. Nah, that wasn't possible why would he save her? Draco sighed and raised his hand. Once it was close to her, she shied back trying to sink even further into the mattress. She was trembling by the time Draco had softly pinched her skin. She shook her head defiantly; this was a dream nothing more. Draco cursed under his breath, Granger; the bright, intelligent, stubborn Granger had been reduced to a shivering mess. She was murmuring how it was all a dream over and over again and Draco racked his brain for something to convince her otherwise. Ping! He had an idea.

"Hey, hey Granger look at me," Granger slowly raised her eyes to look at his, "How do you know when you're dreaming and when you're awake?" he asked her but she was still shaking her head muttering that she didn't know "Well you count fingers, if you have extra fingers then you're dreaming,"[1] He had read it somewhere but had never got the chance to try it as he had never been in the situation before. He always knew when he was dreaming and when he was awake – he wasn't crazy you know. He waved his hand in front of her face and started counting his fingers. "One," he shook his thumb, "Two, Three," he carried on and his eyes strayed towards the shackle on her wrist, "Four," He didn't even know that they had had a shackle in the cellar, well this was an old house, but it was simply barbaric. Although he disliked Granger he would never chain her up like an animal and reduce her to the shivering, dubious lump that she was now. "Five," he wiggled his pinkie and stared as she visibly relaxed her tense muscles and stared up into the dark ceiling, she was gulping in air and trying to calm her erratic heart. They didn't have time for this.

It was the dead of night and everyone was sleeping, bar from Draco of course, he had caught a few hours but his brain wouldn't allow more because it was too focussed on his mission for the night. They didn't have any more time to waste if they wanted to get out of this alive. He quickly got to work on the shackle, once it was off he watched as Granger unknowingly rubbed her wrist and he caught sight of the scars left by the knife. He swiftly sat her up and got her to stand; she stumbled lightly but was steadied by a firm hand on her arm. "We have to run now Granger, can you run?" he questioned with a whisper and prepared his body for a silent sprint.

"You're saving me?" She asked her lip trembling a little,

"Yes Granger, I thought that was already established," he drawled and started to drag her out of the cellar. Hermione looked back at the cellar and all she felt was relief, she was getting out of here at last. Once they were out of the cellar Draco was on high alert, his senses tingled and he had to pull Hermione along. They were running, the ground beneath their feet moving faster as they picked up the pace. Draco swivelled his head from side to side trying to pick out any disturbances, Hermione was just trying not to trip over her feet and trying not to go flying. She hated flying. They passed the Drawing Room, the place where Hermione was tortured for the first time in Malfoy Manor. He moved quickly on, spitting out demands and trying to get them out of there as fast as possible. Drop! He heard something, what was it? Was someone following them? He ushered Hermione into a dark corner and proceeded to place an invisibility charm over her, it wouldn't last long but it would have to do.

"What's going on? Where are we going?" Hermione whispered, hugging the wall in desperation and comfort.

"Not now Granger." Draco whispered back, words tumbling out of his mouth while his eyes flitted over to the place where Granger should have been. It was eerie not being able to see her properly. It made him feel like he was talking to himself and talking to oneself is the first sign of losing it.

He heard another drop and began to get worried, if they found out that Hermione had escaped from the cellar already then their chances were dwindling. He looked left and right but nothing looked out of place. Was it just his conscience? But Snape told him to always second guess his choices and be prepared for anything. He focussed on a stunning spell and racked his brain for various curses and hexes just in case. They stayed there for a while, nose to nose, cheek to cheek, Hermione was breathing hard getting her breath back and Draco was focussed on anything but her. When nothing was heard for a couple more minutes they moved on. They were running again, they could see the door now. "Alohomora," he whispered and the door opened with a quiet creek. They ran out of it into the cold night air, Hermione was silently leaping with joy but Draco felt like this was too easy. They were confronted with the dark, back gardens of the manor. The others would look for the front door and not the back, right?

His suspicions were confirmed when he heard a cackle he was too familiar with. The hairs on the back of his neck were raised and he protected Hermione with his body when he could hear the distinct sound of someone running after them. A cluster of voices rose as they came into sight. "Run!" He shouted to Hermione, they were running faster than they ever were their footsteps fuelled by desperation. Hermione tripped and went sprawling in the dirt, Draco was quick to haul her up but the damage was done the group was gaining on them. They both casted a look behind them, Bellatrix herded the group of bloodthirsty death eaters which included his father. Draco knew the look on his father's face, it was angry but it was scared as well, he didn't want to kill his son but Draco didn't know what lengths his father would go to nowadays. "We've got to hide," he whispered to Hermione and he took her into the maze.

The maze was a pattern of tall hedges with poisonous plants and exotic plants dotted around the complex. Hermione was in awe. There were ten-foot green walls on either side of them, and sky above them, and a dirt pathway. That was it. She could try to peer between the leaves of the hedges, but since the other side of the wall was generally another pathway full of more hedges and dirt, it did her very little good. They were going in blind.

"Where are we going?" She repeated.

"In the centre of all of this there is a fountain containing a Portkey. If we can get to it that would be bloody brilliant…" He was gasping, his head swinging to and fro so much that Hermione thought that he would get whiplash. She doubted that he knew what that was, though. "Whatever you do, do not touch any of the plants. Do you understand me?" He spat, tugging on her arm more firmly as he took her around a random bend.

"I'm not a child Ferret, I don't need to be told off when anything colourful is in sight." She assured him, astonished that even in times of trouble Draco could keep his snarky, arrogant, egotistical attitude.

Hermione felt lost among the labyrinthine walls. She no longer knew which way was forward or back and was certain that without Draco she could be done for and in no way find her out. The cackles of the Death Eaters were so close now that they felt as if they were only just on the other side of the left hedge. The leaves shaking under the decibels.

Draco pointed to a rock and told her to get behind it. She did so hurriedly but was not expecting when Draco forced her to lie on her stomach and pushed her under the hedge. Being among the hedge was not something Hermione liked to do in her spare time, she could feel branches poking in places where they shouldn't and the smell of nature was so pungent that she thought she was going to sneeze.

They were holding their breath. The Death Eaters ran past, thank Merlin that they weren't all that bright. What were they going to do? Draco was the only one who could do complicated spells, Hermione didn't even know if she could a simple one like Wingardium Leviosa (the spell that held a really good memory from her first year). Draco was mouthing to her that he could distract them and that Hermione had to wait there. Hermione went to protest but Draco was already getting up. He ran in the opposite direction and was shooting stunning spells, hexes and curses to anyone in sight. He didn't really care if he hit his father.

Meanwhile, Hermione was shaking. She didn't trust Draco that much to come back for her, but she kind of had to anyway. She was defenceless and yet Draco had left her to fend for herself. She tried to burrow further into the bush she was cowering in. She needed to distract herself, let the fear shake off so her senses were clearer. The rock in front of the hedge was engraved in words and sentences. Bizarrely they described the history of the manor, how self-centred of them Hermione thought. 'After his conquest of England, the spectacular King William I seized the property and gave it to Armand Malfoy in return for the generous services that he could wield. Later generations then expanded the lands owned by the family by annexing the holds of their unworthy neighbours and transformed it into what can be seen today.' That little distraction made her less fearful and she felt more ready than she had before.

Draco was sure that he had lost them for a second, no one was around him and he was now doubling back to gather Hermione, relying on his memory to remember the route. That plant was familiar wasn't it? Yes, it was Draco remembered seeing the gaping purple plant on his way past. They were so close to freedom now. Crunch! His father appeared in front of him, stepping elegantly into the entrance of the turn. "Draco," he said as a warning, but Draco didn't really care he was willing a spell into being, "Don't make me do this," Lucius raised his mother's wand, how dare his father use his weakness against him. The wand wavered from its raised position but it was already far too late, Lucius Malfoy went down with a stunning spell and Draco ran passed him without a backwards glance. His father's eyes were spinning, reeling what had his son got into?

Hermione could hear a Death Eater prowling around somewhere, she remembered them distinctly after all. Her heart was racing and she could hear it in her ears. But the sound of the approaching Death Eater was louder. She knew that the Death Eater knew that she was nearby; he was sniffing about and pulling things apart to reveal little hiding places. What was Hermione going to do? She was defenceless. He was close now. Her breaths were fast and uneven. She could hear his breath that was how close he was. What was she going to do? She could see his foot, and then quickly she was thinking. Searching through her mind, quick Hermione think c'mon think of something she thought. Then a boot was stepping behind the rock, looking about and then branches were being pulled apart. A grinning face was revealed next. Hermione tried burying further into the hedge but the Death Eater reached further in, trying to snag her foot. Without knowing what she was doing, the Death Eater was down. A foot had torn through the branches and kicked in his privates and she was up. Out of the bush, she was just about away from him when he caught at her foot. Flailing she was unaware of the spell that came out from nowhere. The Death Eater was down with a stunning spell, did she do that? If she had how had she done that?

Draco was amazed too. He had just turned up when he had seen it. Hermione turned to him and then they were running again. As Draco was pulling her along, she began to decipher the maze, her mind whirring as she ran. The left-hand and right-hand rules didn't work. The goal was inside. The landmarks, such as the plants and the rocks, were elusive, they were just there to distract trespassers, to trick them. To win, they didn't have to see every section of the maze. The highest-level description would be a pair-of-eyeglasses shape she thought. They started, and there was a major branch point, the branches then came back together, there's another branch point, the branches came back together, and then the goal.

The goal was magnificent. They had to run through a hedge to get to it; a circle of land surrounded all by hedges with blooming white flowers. And in the centre was the fountain. It was like nothing Hermione had ever seen before. It was a loop-de-loop with a cascade of water pouring down from it into a deep pool. Written on the stone loop-de-loop were the words aut viam inveniam aut faciam – I will either find a way or make one. The pool was so deep that Hermione couldn't see the bottom but she could see that there were steps leading down, too small and narrow for someone to walk down, but there were little stone figurines of wizards and witches fighting and living their frozen lives. Hermione had never seen something so beautiful. What she hadn't realised was that there were Galleon's and Sickles and Knut's lying among the stone and Draco was inching towards them, his hand just skimming the water.

"Crucio!" The curse was hurled from Bellatrix's mouth and it hit its target. The target was not what would be expected, however, as Draco went down spasming. Hermione had to stop and had tried to haul him back on his feet but Draco was just unable to get up. Death eaters were closing in on them again. Hermione was urgent but it was Draco that had rose to his feet.

"Shit," he mutters, that hurt. I mean, I'm used to it lately but it still hurts he thought as he grabbed Hermione's hand and he dragged her closer loosely. His steps were trembling and he rubbed his loose hand over his face. Draco plunged his hand into the water, ignoring the chill, and grabbing a Knut out from what he had called as a child 'The Wishing Waters'. He murmured a few words, words he had learned when he could only reach his mother's knee. He smiled as he, still holding Hermione's hand, turned to stare at his Aunt.

"Traitor!" Bellatrix screamed again, her voice shrill with annoyance and anger.

They could both feel the tug in their navels as they were whisked away.

The Death Eaters could no longer be heard here. It was safe here. But where were they? The Portkey had dragged them into an enclosed area (an area of clustered trees that would provide them enough closure if any one walked by) and Draco nearly collapsed where he stood.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked him cautiously,

"Do I look alright?" Draco retorted and then dug his hand in his pockets; he had shrunk a number of items in his pockets including a bag with some of his personal belongings. Draco was still trembling, he was grabbing at his arms trying to still them, and he was biting down onto his tongue to suppress his groans. Hermione knew that he wasn't alright but what was she to do with a stubborn ferret that she disliked. Fair enough he had saved her and for that she would be forever grateful for but he was still a stuck up prat.

"Where are we?" Hermione asked quietly, hugging her arms as the wind tumbled passed them and rustled the trees. She didn't feel as safe as she had wanted to be.

"My Mother used to take me here for picnics when my Father was out on business, which was quite often. She never told me exactly where we were just that this was called Hexagon Wood, a cluster of trees in the shape of a hexagon basically, and she told me it was safe. We have to make a pit stop here so I can do this…"

He pulled out a small slip of paper and put it in Hermione's hand.

"Read it but do not repeat it," she did as she was told and soon Draco stood and snatched the paper harshly back off of her and held her hand tightly. Hermione hadn't fully understood what was written on the paper but she had read it and that would be enough. They were then apparating. They were finally, truly free.

Narcissa couldn't sleep. She was laid amongst the silk sheets and she stared blankly ahead of her. She had heard the screams before. She had heard the news even before that. Her son, her dear Draco, had freed the Granger girl and had escaped with her. He was seen as a traitor now. He was a fugitive in the eyes of the death eaters. This time they wouldn't punish him with a Cruciatus but with death. She closed her eyes and sighed, this day couldn't get any worse. The door opened and her husband approached the bed. He was ragged and he shook slightly from the aftermath of the Cruciatus' that had been put on him for letting his son escape, for not being able to shoot a spell at him, for having a traitorous son. It wasn't fair.

"How are you?" Her husband whispered as he got into bed, he had toed off his boots and had stripped into sleep wear. It was a stupid question he knew but what else was he meant to say? He didn't know what to say, or what to do. He turned and gathered his wife into his arms, rubbing her back when she burst into tears.

"What are we going to do, Lucius?" Narcissa whispered tearfully into her husband's chest, their son could be anywhere; he was running for his life. Lucius shook his head as his signal of not knowing how to answer and looked at the wand he had placed on the dresser. He had held that wand to his son's chest with the visible intent of maiming him. He knew he could never do that but it had looked like it, Draco had probably believed that as well. Narcissa withdrew her head from his chest and laid it on the pillow still looking at him. "We should've seen the signs," she sighed and carried on when she saw Lucius' confused look, "When she was he couldn't look at her. He has been locked in his room ever since she was brought down into the cellar, refusing to come down. Today he talked to her and helped her eat and then went up to bed early, shutting himself away again,"

"But he hates the girl," Lucius said,

"He dislikes her but you know how he feels about this life too," Narcissa was done now and she stared at her husband and watched the emotions flit across his pale, worn face. People thought that they were always so regal and poised, and with such a high position you had to be the picture of elegance, but people never saw this side of them, the side of vulnerability. Lucius knew that his son had come to hate the life that they had. That was why he rarely talked to him anymore that was why he caught the boy throwing distasteful looks his way. He had neglected to properly care for his child as he had not even recognised the signs of his plan to escape his own home with the girl. He had been stoic and withdrawn from his son because his father had been with him and maybe he had been a bit more forceful than was needed. Basically, he had failed as a father. Merlin forbid, he would right his so many wrongs when this was all over and if they were all still alive. Lucius greatly disbelieved that fact; war didn't swing in families favours.

Draco and Hermione stood side by side, their locked hands had been replaced by their own hands stuck to their respective sides, looking across the road at the many rows of dilapidated houses with their windows dull and blind in the thick darkness. A chilly mist was licking at their feet and there were no sounds besides their own breath and the whisper of water. Draco moved to a single house that was identical to all of the other bricked, terraced houses on the street. Hermione reluctantly followed him. This was certainly not a Malfoy house; a poised and elegant Malfoy would never purchase a shamble like this. If they had then this would be the day that pigs had flown for the first time.

She and Draco moved through the door and directed her into a tiny sitting room which had the feeling of a dark padding cell. Merlin, why did she have to be dragged from one cell to another? The walls were completely covered in books (Hermione was awed by how many there were, it was almost like a dream come true, not even her room had this many books) which were mostly bound in dark, worn leather. A threadbare sofa, an ancient armchair and a table on the edge of collapse was grouped together near an unlit candle that was hung from the ceiling. It was dark. But Draco quickly lit one candle. It was enough light to see around the room but not be seen by any passersby. Draco was moving around the room, he pushed at a book case and unbelievable it was a door. The secret door, revealed a rickety staircase that led upstairs. Who ever had lived here had a good mind and anybody who hadn't already known about that door would never have guessed that there was a door anywhere. They would have assumed that the upstairs was inhabited by someone else and had a different door. Draco collapsed into the arm chair but Hermione hung back, she walked around the room and ran her fingers over the spines of the books. She withdrew them to find that her fingers were coated in a layer of dust. She sneezed and covered it with her opposite hand. She supposed this was their temporary hideaway for now. But who lived in it? Had anybody lived in it for the last few months? She had thought that nobody lived there because the house had an air of neglect as if it hadn't been inhabited for a long, long time.

Draco looked back at her from his spot on the armchair, "Welcome to Spinner's End,"

I hope you all enjoyed that chapter! The reason why it took so long? I rebooted all of this chapter after deciding I didn't like the draft I previously had.

Thank you to all readers, favouriters and followers you are all the best. And a special thank you to Tearrer who reviewed and I whole heartedly agree with. Hopefully, this chapter gave you a bit more insight to Draco's character. I think my angle is that Draco decides enough is enough with Voldemort and does his own thing.

Till next time…

1 This is a reference to Teen Wolf season three