Draco felt like he had been reassembled in the wrong order. The door had sucked him in and knocked him out. Through the haze of unconsciousness he thought he had heard the sound of raised voices and running feet, that must have been them leaving. Before long he woke up. All around him was pitch darkness. Draco felt inside his pockets for his wand. Good, it had survived the trip. He had half expected to be left in here without it, not that that would have mattered for the time being, he could do what he wanted to do next without a wand. A swift movement and the vault was lit up. Draco's eyes, long adjusted to the gloom, were dazzled by the reflection of the light. Every way Draco looked there was gold, silver and jewels. With the contents of this vault, you could buy your way to anything you wanted. No wonder the Lestranges were so feared, with this waiting here, there was nothing they couldn't bribe their way out of. Except prosecution by Barty Crouch Senior, Draco added with a small smile. It was good to know that evil didn't always win. It gave him hope that this wasn't for nothing. Now, time to find that blasted cup. Was that it over there? Draco tried a summoning charm but nothing happened. Never mind. There were plenty more fish in the sea. There was no clear path to the back wall where the cup sat on a shelf, and Draco felt his wasn't the time or place to try and work out how to fly without a broomstick. Well, the only real way of getting there was to walk all over the contents of the vault. At the back of his mind, something was telling Draco that wasn't a good idea. He remembered his father showing him how to disable spells in the Malfoy family vault many years ago. Now what were the odds that something similar wasn't in place here? Time to try and work it out.

Draco sat crossed legged on the floor, sensing the magic around him. What could it be? There was definitely something all over the treasure, something almost undetectable. A sweep of his wand and the magical disturbance vanished? Was that it gone. Well, only one way to find out for sure. Draco touched the treasure and yelped as it burned red hot in his hand. A flagrante curse, apparently. That was easily enough fixed. Another wave and Draco wished that he hadn't touched the treasure with his wand hand, which was already beginning to blister. Draco touched the gold a little more carefully this time. No, nothing. Good. Whatever it was was gone. Draco stood up and calmly walked through the vault to the shelf where the cup sat, fearing that he'd missed something. Then, he was at the cup. He checked it over for any dark magic, thinking about Dumbledore's hand and found nothing. He picked it up. The metal felt icy cold to the touch, as if something was taking all of the warmth from it. A shiver went up Draco's spine. That was it, the cup. Now, how could he destroy it? Well, short of there being a vial of basilisk venom in here- unlikely, Draco admitted- then he would have to use fiendfyre. But that would almost certainly kill him if he were to use it in here, even if he didn't make a mistake. Draco stuffed the cup into the biggest pocket he had. Now, time to pay attention to escape. Was it possible? Draco through his weight at the door, and ended up with nothing more than a bruised shoulder for his troubles. That wasn't going to work. How about digging his way out through the walls?

The excavation charm Draco tried bounced off of the wall and he dived to avoid it, landing face first into a pile of knuts. Great. Above him the charm carried on bouncing until at last it hit the edge of the door and vanished. Draco got up. That was better. Now, had it had any effect. No. The door seemed unperturbed. The thought came to Draco that he might not be able to escape after all. He'd been so confident when he had come in, but now, les so. Draco's heart fell at the thought that he would die here, in his long dead aunt's bank vault. By the time anyone discovered him, he'd probably be an unidentifiable skeleton. Who knows. By the time he got out of here. No, by the time his body was arrived out of here, the war might be over. No-one would shed a tear over him anyway. Perhaps this was fate's way of punishing him for killing his father. Overwhelmed by feelings of despair, Draco sat down. His mind felt like crying, but his body wouldn't let him. Perhaps this was the last sign that he had left childhood behind. What a place to become a man. Trapped in a stone prison. It might be full of gold, but right now, Draco would have given it all for a way out. Not that it was his anyway, was it? No. Bloody uncles, if they weren't alive he could have just waltzed his way in as the heir. Well, an heir, anyway, aunt Andromeda might come first. Or then again maybe not. There was no way that she'd not have been written out of any will of the Lestranges. Draco looked to his right and saw a small pile of brown, earthy dust. Where had that come from? Who knew? He put his hands down to get up and stretch his legs when the sudden jolt of pain reminded him about his hand. Ow. Draco did what he could to numb the pain coming from his hand and looked back at the pile of earth. It looked bigger. Where could it be coming from? Well, things fell down, so that made sense. Great, so now the ceiling was collapsing, just what he needed. At least he had air at the moment, even if there wasn't anything particularly savoury to drink. Never mind. Better a quick death than a slow uncomfortable one. Much better. Draco looked back at the pile of earth. That was odd. It wasn't growing as it should if the soil was coming from there, so where was it coming from? Draco had a closer look and noticed a small trickle falling down into it. Where was it coming from? The wall? But that didn't make sense. Why was the solid rock around the door disintegrating? Then it struck Draco that the spot the rock dust was falling from was roughly where the excavation spell had earthed itself. Looks like he was tunnelling out of here. Woo. Draco thought to himself sarcastically. This has to be the slowest escape since Roger the tortoise decided he didn't like it in his whatever-it-was-you-kept-tortoises-in. Great , not in here for two hours and already loosing the ability to think straight. But still, it was an escape. All he had to do was wait and i would take care of itself. Draco lay down on the cold floor and wished that he had more layers on. Well. Here's hoping that he wouldn't die before the hole finished growing. Draco extinguished his light and curled up to try and keep warm. Well, he might as well get some sleep while he was waiting. Draco drifted off into a peaceful sleep, the only noise to be heard his own soft breathing and the falling of dust, the only light that squeezing through the keyhole of the door. Draco woke, hungry and thirsty. What was the time? Twenty past two. Was it the morning or the afternoon Draco couldn't tell. Slowly his bladder started telling him that he needed to escape. Not yet though. How had the tunnelling progressed. Not well. The hole was barely big enough to fit a piece of paper through, but it was growing around the door. Well, that was one way to find a weakness. Draco was glad he had, now he could count down the days until he could escape, or at least make the attempt. It wouldn't be long now. After all, he probably hadn't been asleep that long, had he? He might have been, and the door was only a third undercut. What would happen when it did? Would the door fall out, or would it need pushing? Then Draco remembered the dragon. Great. He'd have to deal with that again. Then he'd have to get out, presumably without a cart. That could only end badly. Unless. Well, they'd ridden dragons in the goblin rebellion of 1342, hadn't they? Perhaps he could give that a go. It'd be spectacular.

Probably not very successful though. There were ways of bringing down dragons.

But it only had to get him out of the bank. It was worth a try.

But not yet. Now Draco had to play the waiting game. So he sat and waited and slept and waited. He seemed to be there for an eternity, his lips felt dry and he felt hungry, so hungry. Well, let's hope no one found him before he'd had something to eat. He was always grumpy when he hadn't had anything to eat for a while. The hours went past, each stretching out as if to fill an aeon. Slowly the barrier to Draco's freedom disintegrated. It was nearly there, barely any to go, and already Draco could just about see out, if he forced his eye to the crack. So there Draco sat, wand in hand, staring out at the bored dragon. It looked rather pitiful just lying there. Suddenly the dragon sat up and roared. It had heard something, so had Draco, it was gobbledegook, straight from the mouth of an irritated goblin. Using some rattly thing to subdue the dragon, the goblin approached. Draco sat still , hoping that they wouldn't notice the crack. They were just here to check on the dragon, weren't they? No, they were still approaching his hiding place. Draco didn't know what they would do if they found him, but rather suspected that they wouldn't say "naughty, naughty" and let him off with a smacked wrist. The goblins stood outside the door. He could see them, standing there. No, there was no way that they had seen him, the crack was too small for them to even notice. Inside the vault it was pitch black and Draco's eye picked up every sight it could. The goblins looked at each other, said something Draco didn't understand, shrugged and walked off. They must have decided that whatever it was was a false alarm. They turned their backs and walked off. They had rounded the corner and the dragon settled back down to its usual, bored position. When suddenly it felt very quiet. The silence was odd, there was still the sound of his own breathing, and the dragons, but something had stopped. What was it? Draco stepped back and looked up at the door. Ahh, that was it. The door was surrounded in a halo of light, the excavation charm had finished its work at long last. Draco took a deep breath, seized his wand tightly in his fist and cast a spell at the door, which buckled, and slowly fell outwards. The great door fell slowly but still made a huge noise when it hit the floor. Time to deal with the dragon. Draco ran out, rolled under the jet of flames and found himself by the dragon. Quickly he leaped up onto its back and hoping that the spines weren't poisonous, took a firm seat. The dragon reared, but Draco gripped tightly with his legs and stayed on. Two jabs with his wand destroyed the chains which held the dragon put and he was off, far faster than he wanted. The dragon seemed to have forgotten about him, and was instead chasing after the goblins, who were hurrying back to investigate the noise. A tongue of flame met them on their way and they were nothing other than ash on the floor. Still the dragon ignored Draco, keen to leave. Perhaps it knew that Draco would help it, perhaps it simply didn't know he was there. Draco raised his arm to wipe his face, which had gotten rather sweaty with the heat and found his face rather scratchy. He'd need a shave when he got back to his razor- that was certain. Draco flattened himself against the dragon as it beat its wings and clumsily began to fly. It seemed that it wasn't something the dragon had had much practise at, as they scraped against walls and rails on the way up. Slowly though, the dragon seemed to have gotten a hang of it, and was speeding up. Draco looke forwards and then wished the dragon had learnt about breaking. There was nothing for it.

'bombarda.' The wall in front of them gave way and the dragon soared through the rubble, out into the main lobby of the bank. Scream followed scream as the dragon incinerated anyone it saw, gradually working its way down to the main doors. It barged its way through, taking the doorframes with it. Draco slipped off the dragon's back and walked out behind it. The shock of a dragon had frozen nearly everyone in their tracks. Good, that would give him plenty of cover to get away. No-one would worry about him when there was a great big dragon in the street. Thanking his lucky stars, Draco apparated home to the dark forest where they had left the tent. He opened the flap and headed in, going straight towards his bedroom. That's funny, where had his razor gone? It wasn't in there anywhere. Draco walked through to the kitchen.

'You haven't seen my razor have you?' Draco asked Hermione. She turned around and a huge smile came to her face.

'Harry! Harry! Come quick.'

Harry came rushing in. He took one look at Draco and went pale, a smile coming to his lips.

'So, decided to come back, have you?'

'Well, there wasn't much to do there. It's nice to get away from everything every so often, but a change is as good as a rest, as they say.'

'It's good to have you back, Draco. 'Scuse me while I finish off upstairs will you?'

'Course.'

Harry left, leaving Draco alone with Hermione.

'I didn't think you were coming back.'

'Neither did I, for a while.'

'Draco. There was a letter.'

'I see.'

'Did you mean it?'

'Every word.'

'Come here.'