Hi, everyone, how are you? 😊

Oh, so many things in the last one! The first meeting between our lovers in secret... which ended up being a not-so-good one 😂. Draco's bully spirit took over, and he ended up messing with the Weasleys, basically just because he could 😂 Hermione obviously felt very bad about it, and just stormed off in a huff 🙊

And... the French girl has appeared! 😱 She's alive, and she says she doesn't remember anything! Poor thing... Do you have any theories?

Thank you so much in advance for reading! As always, I'd love to read in the comments what you thought of it 😍.

We continue with the Easter holidays. This time, Draco's... Do you remember what was going to happen as soon as he returned home? 😳

Hope you like it!

CHAPTER 28

The flight of Pigwidgeon

Silence pervaded the large, luxurious bedroom. The second hand of a large antique grandfather clock was the only thing that broke the overwhelming stillness. Minutes ago, when it was not yet dark, the light was streaming in between the elegant green velvet curtains, but gradually the sun had gone down and the room was now in semi-darkness. Illuminated by the faint rays of the moon.

He hadn't even noticed that the light had disappeared.

Draco Malfoy had been sitting on the edge of his bed for hours, not moving. He was dressed in what he had long adored and longed for, but which in this moment of rising panic seemed to him to be nothing more than a simple black robe. He stared at the opposite wall, without seeing it, as silence pressed on his eardrums. His heart was pounding so hard under his ribs that he thought he would see it bouncing out of his chest at any moment. It had been like this for hours, and it wouldn't stop. It wouldn't slow down. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach that he had never felt before. It was as if cold hands were twisting his guts, almost making him nauseous. And it also brought a cold sweat that chilled the back of his neck.

His hands, to his own amazement, clasped on his thighs, did not tremble.

The course of time was proving to be a curious experience. The clock was ticking faster than Draco would like, but at the same time, the time was not coming. He needed to end all this. To be free of the agony once and for all. From the eternal waiting. He looked at the clock again, turning his neck with a strange stiffness. It was already twenty to twelve at night. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly and loudly, trying to relax, though his chest quivered with nerves as he inhaled the oxygen. He took three more deep breaths, but only succeeded in moving the nausea to his throat. He swallowed hard and ducked his head, covering his face in his icy hands, struggling to calm himself. Tiny white dots appeared in his closed eyes.

"Come on, Draco, calm the fuck down," he pleaded sternly in his mind. "Don't be a baby... You've been wanting this your whole life and now the time has finally come, so calm down... Calm down..."

He slid his hands upwards, running them across his forehead, and tangled them in his blond hair. He stretched hard trying to get his mind to wake up and be able to be master of his body again. Suddenly he felt an irrepressible urge to tear his hair out, to pull it out until he managed to get out all the rage that was eating him, all the fear and helplessness he felt and hated to feel...

"Think of your father," the little voice in his mind said. "Think of how he'd feel knowing what you're going to do, think of how he'll feel when he finds out..."

"But it's too soon," he answered, desperately, in his head. "I'm not sure I'm capable. Not right now. And this is for life..."

"Your father has done it. It's the right way, it's your destiny. Your father will be proud of you," added his conscience. "He will be proud. And this is what you've always wanted... You're an adult. Now the time has come, it's your turn to be part of this, to be part of the solution..."

"But what if the Dark Lord finds out that...?"

Granger. Granger floated in his subconscious. She had been floating in the recesses of his mind for days. And possibly she was the reason for the accelerated beating of his frightened heart. The conversation in the greenhouse, their kisses, their meeting in the Great Hall on the last day...

He was dead. If the Dark Lord decided to search his mind, if he accessed his memories, if he saw all that... Would he use Legilimency to make sure he was an exemplary Death Eater? That he hadn't betrayed his blood in any way? If he did, he was dead. He was not an exemplary Death Eater. He was not.

How had he been so reckless, how could he have been so careless, weeks before he was to be ordained a Death Eater?

Granger was right. He was a bloody arsehole.

In his head, he had justified everything that had happened with Granger, thinking that no one would find out and no one would tell. But what if no one needed to tell? What if the Dark Lord already knew? What if He was minutes away from finding out?

Once again he looked up, and looked at the clock one more time: a quarter to twelve. Panic ran through him to the core, spreading through his body like electricity through his nerves. He began to gasp helplessly. He was suffocating, he couldn't breathe fast enough...

"I can't do this. I can't... He'll discover it, he'll kill me..."

He felt the urge to get up and move to the window to get the cold night air on his face, but his legs wouldn't respond. No part of his body was responding. He struggled desperately to control the sudden wetness that invaded his eyes. He didn't want his mother to see him like this. He wanted to prove he was brave, even if everyone doubted it.

Suddenly, startling his already tachycardic heart, the dark wooden door creaked open. And a streak of light illuminated the floor of the room, without reaching the bed. A flash of blonde accompanied Narcissa Malfoy's graceful face as she peered out.

"Dear…" she greeted in a whisper, taking a step forward and closing the door behind her. She was dressed in a black robe identical to his, which emphasised the blonde of her hair and the blue of her eyes. Draco, even from a distance, could see his mother's reddened eyes counterbalanced by the serene smile on her lips. The boy did not know what he must look like, sitting on the edge of his bed in the dark, but his expression seemed to sadden her. She moved closer to him, silent footsteps on the carpet of the room, and sat down beside him on the soft mattress.

Draco was grateful that she did; he wouldn't have been able to stand.

"How are you?" Narcissa questioned in a whisper, watching him carefully. Draco swallowed, holding back nausea, and nodded his head.

"Perfectly," he managed to articulate. And his voice sounded firmer than he would have thought it would. It gave him renewed courage. "Nervous, I suppose... But fine. Excited."

He didn't know himself how he could have lied so blatantly. He was anything but excited.

"It'll be quick," the woman assured him, looking down at her clasped hands. "When they put it on your father it was very quick. You'll see."

"Will he tell me today what he wants me to do?" Draco questioned helplessly, looking up at his mother. "Why does he want me to become a Death Eater now?"

Narcissa took a deep breath, not looking at him. Her eyes were slightly wide, hinting at the panic she felt inside, but did not want her son to appreciate.

"I think so. He's gathered them all together in the drawing room. I haven't been able to talk to Bella, so I'm not sure," she added almost to herself. She seemed to be musing aloud. She mumbled on, almost frustrated, "It can't be anything too difficult, or dangerous. You're just a child, he —"

"I'm not a child, Mother," Draco interrupted her with a pang of spite. Narcissa looked at him, apology shining in her eyes.

"You're right," she said, her voice strained. She reached up with one pale hand and stroked his hair, arranging his fringe with trembling fingers. "I guess you always will be to me," she whispered. Her light eyes were glassy. "I'm so sorry, son. So sorry..." she added, her voice suddenly taken. "Your father and I shouldn't have gotten you into this..."

Draco shook his head, feeling his chest split in two at the sight of his mother so suddenly fragile.

"You don't have to be sorry," he said, flatly, straightening slightly. "I want to do this. It's my decision. And it's an honour. It's all right. Father... Father would want it that way. And when he gets out of Azkaban... he'll know," he articulated, clinging to that satisfying idea so that he could move on. Staring into the void with the promise in his head of fulfilling his father's expectations, something he had wanted since he was a kid.

And so he did not see his mother's broken expression. Deeply worried and desolate. Her anguished eyes looking at him as what he was, the most important person to her.

The chimes of the clock echoed in the room.

Twelve o'clock at night. Draco's heart skipped a beat. He felt a shiver run down his spine, and his heart, which had been soothed by his mother's presence, began to race again.

"It's time," Narcissa whispered hoarsely.

Draco was on his feet in an instant, so abruptly that he made the bed creak. His legs, which had once resembled the worst quality jelly, suddenly seemed capable of supporting him. He advanced towards the door with wide but slow strides, followed by his mother. She placed a slender hand on her son's shoulder as they left the room.

They walked through the dark, empty corridors of Malfoy Manor. Moonlight streamed in through the tall, diamond-shaped windows, filling everything with a subtle white light, but it was not enough illumination. The chandeliers that hung on the walls flickered on as they passed, and flickered out behind them as they walked away. Breaking the night's darkness. The muffled sound of the woman's shoes on the floor carpets was the only thing that broke the silence.

"Try to stay calm," Narcissa whispered, even though her own voice trembled, as they descended the grand main staircase to the entrance hall. "It will be all right, I will be with you. Speak... speak only if He demands it and all will be well."

Draco nodded stiffly. He was no longer able to speak. He felt that if he said anything, he wouldn't be able to control the nausea. They walked down the hall and arrived, sooner than either of them would have wished, at the closed oak double doors that led into the grand drawing room of the manor.

Beside them stood a slender figure who looked up as the two people arrived. Theodore Nott's blue eyes, normally calm, or even sad, now glittered with anxiety in the dim light of the house. He exchanged a silent glance with Draco as he stopped at the door. Nott made an effort to instil some encouragement just with his eyes.

Narcissa breathed loudly through her nose, blinking trying to control the emotion in her eyes, and knocked three times on the door of her own drawing room. The three knocks echoed eerily through the huge, lonely manor. Without waiting for an answer, and without taking her hand off her son's shoulder, she pushed the bronze handle to open the door and stepped into the room, dragging Draco with her. The young blond did not look away from Nott's eyes until he crossed the threshold and left him behind.

The room was shrouded in shadow, for the curtains were closed, blocking out even the moonlight. It was a large room, with a splendid marble mantelpiece at the far end of the room, in which a blazing fire crackled and was the only source of light. In front of it were a pair of old, ostentatious armchairs. And a couple more against the walls. Above the mantelpiece was a large gilded-framed mirror. On the rest of the purple walls, various pictures of his ancestors and relatives were scattered around the surface, in large, ornate frames. The polished floor of the room was almost entirely covered by a thick carpet. A gift from his maternal grandparents. A beautiful chandelier hung from the ceiling, made up of thousands of tiny crystals.

A small group of people, dressed in black robes with silver masks covering their faces, stood in absolute silence, scattered on both sides of the room. Leaving a wide aisle in the centre, in the direction of the fireplace.

"I bring Draco, My Lord," Narcissa announced in a loud, clear voice, closing the door with a trembling hand when they had both passed through, leaving Theodore outside. She still kept her hand on her son's shoulder, and he was beginning to feel his mother's slender fingers dig into his skin, revealing the nervousness she was hiding.

"Thank you, Narcissa," said a cold, sharp voice from behind one of the armchairs facing the fireplace with its back to them. "You may sit down."

Draco felt his mother's nails dig into his skin. The woman clenched her thin jaw and looked her son in the eye one last time, giving him all the support she could muster. Draco felt cold and immense loneliness as his mother removed her hand from his shoulder and slowly moved away from him, going to sit on a couch by a wall, next to her sister. Bellatrix Lestrange watched the scene avidly, her heavily hooded eyes wide open.

The figure that had spoken suddenly stood up from the couch, turned his back to the fireplace and walked a couple of paces away from it, now facing Draco. The boy felt fear grip every muscle in his body, but he didn't make the slightest movement that would reveal it. He even caught himself trying to hold his breath.

Lord Voldemort, in a long, thick black robe, with red eyes whose elongated pupils regarded him with suspicion, spoke three words that were enough to terrify the boy even more, if that was possible:

"Come forward, Draco."

The blond obeyed instantly and began to walk towards him, as slowly as he could. Staring at the Dark Lord's chest, not daring to look him in the eye. Not knowing if that would be disrespectful. Repeating mechanically what his father had taught him, he knelt awkwardly in front of Voldemort and brushed his lips against the hem of the black robe. Then he stood just as awkwardly, and remained motionless in front of him, waiting for him to begin speaking, trying to hide the terror that consumed him inside with a mask of blankness. Draco was very adept at hiding his emotions if he put his mind to it, and he was not about to let that gift fail him at such a crucial moment.

He knew that the rest of the Death Eaters, on either side of him, were watching him, but he almost forgot they were there. The Dark Lord, tall, powerful, imposing, unpredictable, occupied all his attention.

"Well, Draco, I see you've already put on your robes," Voldemort commented, in an almost paternal tone that was all the more terrifying. He walked slowly around the young Malfoy, causing his long robes to rustle against the carpet. The young Slytherin nodded stiffly. "I appreciate your enthusiasm. You know, a lot of people don't agree with an inexperienced seventeen year old joining my ranks. On the contrary, you come from a family whose loyalty has never wavered in any of its members," the Lord's red eyes leered at Bellatrix, who puffed up and blushed with visible pride, "and too much in others," he now looked at Narcissa, who was staring down at her clasped hands in her lap. "I hope you understand what I'm doing, Draco. I am giving you the chance to regain the honour that your father has so foolishly taken from the Malfoy family. I am offering you the place your father once held in my service. I am giving you the chance to regain the respect you once had. It is in your hands to improve your family's situation. Do you think you can do it?"

"Yes, My Lord," Draco said more quietly than he meant to, trying to control his rapid breathing.

"Don't think about Granger... Don't think about Granger... For God's sake, don't think about Granger..."

"I hope so... For your own sake," the Dark Lord whispered in Draco's ear, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. "I need someone at Hogwarts urgently, and that is why I have decided to make this questionable decision. I realise that I am risking a lot, if not everything, by making a Death Eater out of a boy who will be spending the next few months under Albus Dumbledore's watch... But there is no other solution. I trust you will be discreet, and make sure that Dumbledore doesn't suspect for a moment whose side you are on," Voldemort threw back his head, still looking at him, and the two slits in his nose widened slightly as he took a deep breath. "You come from an ancient and respectable family of pure-blood wizards and I would not wish to have to spill such blood. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, My Lord," the young Malfoy managed to say, and then added with a sharp intake of breath, "All I need is the chance to prove my loyalty."

The Dark Lord gave him a wry look at those words. They had sounded terribly childish even to Draco's ears.

"What of the other boy, My Lord?" questioned a hoarse voice to Draco's left. Draco averted his eyes slightly, though he didn't need to. He would recognise that voice anywhere.

Fenrir Greyback seemed to be one of the few who had the right to sit in one of the armchairs in the drawing room. His thickly furred face, with no mask to cover it, was barely distinguishable in the light of the flames. But his wolfish eyes shone brightly. He did not seem ashamed to have spoken. He didn't seem to know the feeling.

Draco noticed the rest of the Death Eaters glancing at each other discreetly, seemingly surprised that the werewolf would dare open his mouth in such a situation. And even more so to question, apparently, Lord Voldemort.

He turned to the werewolf, gauging him with his blood-red eyes. His ophidian face did not alter in the slightest.

"Who are you talking about, Fenrir?"

"Nott's son, My Lord. He's at Hogwarts this year as well, am I right?" Greyback clarified, his voice sounding almost like a growl. Draco's nostrils almost caught his scent of blood, sweat and dirt.

Voldemort's lipless mouth curved ever so subtly from one corner.

"Ah, yes. Nott's son... Theodore, is it? Forgive me, Fenrir, but I do not consider that clumsy boy capable of carrying out the mission I have reserved for Draco. Nor any of the offspring of other Death Eaters who are also there. I prefer to keep this mission as discreet as possible and not have seven different spies in the castle. I hope you don't mind. I have thought long and hard before making this decision, as you will understand..."

The Lord's voice sounded so icily mocking that all the Death Eaters recoiled ever so subtly. Terrified. Greyback looked, for the first time, uneasy.

"I meant no offence, Master. I thought I understood that the Nott boy would also be one of us sooner or later..."

"And he will be," Lord Voldemort assured him, beginning to look impatient, not intending to specify any further.

"We'll train him by then," Bellatrix Lestrange interjected, her voice rising. "He's been living at the Manor since his father's imprisonment. Cissy and I will train him when he finishes his studies. We'll make sure he doesn't make any mistakes when the time comes. He's a kid right now, he's of no use to us."

"Thank you, Bellatrix," Lord Voldemort replied in a neutral, almost bored tone, and then turned his eyes back to Draco. "But please, let us not digress, my friends. I remind you that the star of the show today is Draco... Kneel," he commanded, not bothering to raise his voice. The silence in the room was sepulchral now.

The boy almost threw himself head first at the wizard's feet. His knees ached from the blow, but he dared not move again. He waited, expectantly, silently, not taking his eyes off the bottom of the man's robe. He felt slightly better now that he didn't have to see those terrifying eyes fixed on him.

He wondered if he would now use Legilimency against him. Draco was very skilled in Occlumency, he was sure more so than anyone else his age. Bellatrix had been instructing him regularly for several years now. But he could not at all imagine mentally confronting Lord Voldemort.

"Don't think about Granger… Don't think about Granger…"

"Stretch out your left arm."

Draco barely hesitated for an eternal second. He obeyed, and raised his arm until it was horizontal. One of Lord Voldemort's white hands, long, sharp nails, entered his field of vision, and he was almost startled. His fingers grasped the edge of the sleeve and pulled it back to expose the blond's pale forearm, which seemed to glow in the gloom of the room. Draco felt ashamed — should he have uncovered his own forearm?

The Dark Lord's other hand came into view. The hand that held his long wand. He raised it and pressed the tip against the young Malfoy's skin. Stabbing almost imperceptibly into his skin. Draco's arm was visibly shaking. And the boy himself wasn't sure if it was from dread or from the effort of holding it up.

"Answer three questions, Draco," Voldemort ordered, loud enough for all present to hear. Draco nodded, not knowing if he had to. "First question, do you wish to be part of the re-conquest of the wizarding world, in defence of the purity of blood, and to reclaim the true wizarding community?"

Draco closed his eyes, but recited in a firm voice, "Yes, My Lord."

A thick wisp of black smoke suddenly billowed from the tip of the wand and curled around Draco's forearm, startling him at the unexpected spell and causing him to open his eyes. He had to restrain himself from instinctively pulling his arm away. Heart pounding, he didn't dare close his eyes again. The smoke was squeezing his arm strangely, almost uncomfortably. It was hotter than it looked.

"Second question, will you be a loyal Death Eater, who will obey me without questioning my authority and be willing to do anything to achieve our goal?" Voldemort continued calmly.

"Yes, My Lord," Draco repeated, out of inertia, without even thinking.

Another wisp of black smoke, as if from a filthy chimney, rose from the wand and intertwined with the first, heading in a different direction. Now the sensation was even more oppressive. It burned even more.

"Third question, would you give your life, if necessary, for your Master?" he asked, his voice terrifyingly soft.

Draco caught himself swallowing, not remembering when he had last done so. Then he heard a faint, desperate moan to his right. It didn't take him long to realise that it must have come from his mother. Draco turned his eyes slyly and searched for her with his eyes, only to meet his aunt's. Bellatrix was watching him avidly, her eyes still wide and her face flushed with ecstasy. Narcissa, on the other hand, was covering her face with her hands, in contrast to her sister, and trembling noticeably.

"Yes, My Lord," Draco repeated, feeling the skin on his body crawl, without looking away from his grief-stricken mother.

A third wisp of smoke joined the others, and then the boy's forearm began to burn almost unbearably. The young Malfoy could not hold back a weak gasp. It was burning more and more. He unconsciously pulled on his arm, but it was stuck to the Dark Lord's wand, holding it in place, bound to him by the three strands of smoke.

And so he would be for the rest of his life. Tied to that man. At his command. Forever. A lifetime of service, or death.

"Well," Voldemort's voice was so dangerously sweet that Draco panicked at what was about to happen next. "You are therefore now a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy... MORSMORDRE!"

He pulled his wand roughly away from the boy's forearm, causing a great burst of white light and a roar of pain from Draco. He shrank in on himself and clutched his forearm with his right hand, his eyes tightly shut, trying to hold back the tears of pain that yearned to come out. His arm burned, and it felt as if the skin had been ripped off.

"Welcome to your new family, Draco," he heard Voldemort say, above his head.

The watching Death Eaters burst into shouts of triumph and cheers. Draco felt a sudden green light pass through his tightly closed eyelids, and he opened them almost out of inertia. To find himself once again confronted with the sight of his drawing room, now slightly blurred by the moisture in his eyes.

Someone had created a large Dark Mark inside the room, near the high ceiling, to celebrate the entrance of a new member to their circle. The colossal skull, with a snake protruding from its mouth, was composed of tiny emerald stars that dulled the light from the fireplace.

Draco lowered his eyes and stared, petrified, at another skull, this one shiny black, burned into his forearm. His skin, around the edges, was red and tender, as if it had been branded with a red-hot iron. It was identical to the one glowing high above the room.

Something silvery in front of him caught his gaze. Voldemort, not joining in the cheers of his followers, was waving his wand to create a delicate silver mask, with snake-like eye slits. It resembled a skull, too. Once completed, he held it in one of his slender hands and handed it to the boy, saying nothing.

Draco could barely think. He surprised himself by raising his own arm and taking the mask that was held out to him. He stared at it, stunned. It was just like the one his father had.

"I'm a Death Eater..."

"All right, Draco, let's get to work. There's a lot to do," Voldemort said loudly, instantly silencing the screams of those present, giving the boy no time to take in the significance of the mark on his arm. He began to walk very slowly in front of Draco, arms behind his back. "I'm sure you're wondering why I let you join my ranks when you're just a boy and haven't even finished your basic studies. I'll start by filling you in on our plans, so that you can understand. As you may already know, I intend to dominate the wizarding world so that I can steer it back onto a more wizarding path. To bring back our old ways and create a new social order that everyone will welcome. And, as you can imagine, I've been working on a plan to do just that for some time now. Even if it is taking me some time. Sometimes hampered by unexpected events, such as what happened in the Department of Mysteries," his voice grew even colder, and Draco realised that he was thinking of Lucius and the other Death Eaters, now imprisoned by the Ministry.

He paused, stopping, and scrutinised the teenager up and down for a few seconds with his terrifying eyes. The boy then realised that he still had the silver mask in his hand. He clumsily placed it on, amazed at how well it matched his facial features. He was almost grateful to have his face covered; it made him feel less watched by everyone present. Meanwhile, Voldemort continued talking and walking, not mentioning anything about it.

"One of my short-term goals is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. For several reasons. For one thing, I consider it an ideal place to begin the training of our youngest wizards in the real values that a wizard should have. I consider it a vital priority to cleanse it of the Muggle world scum that Dumbledore insists on accepting, and to make it clear to them that they have no place in the wizarding community. And, on the other hand," his red eyes glittered as he paused by the fireplace. Not a fly could be heard. "I need to get something from inside the castle. There is something there that will be very, very useful to me. Something that, when I get it, no one will ever be able to stand against me again."

Draco was now listening to him with his full attention. This was very interesting. Was there something hidden inside Hogwarts? Something that would help the Dark Lord become lord and master of the wizarding world?

"A... weapon, my lord?" Draco then dared to ask, with as much respect and humility as he could muster.

Voldemort glared at him, and the boy feared for a moment that he had been impertinent or impolite. But then the Dark Lord's lipless mouth quirked into a grimace that, on a more human face, might even have been a smile.

"Exactly, Draco. A weapon. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you what it is. It would be dangerous. No one is aware that I know of its existence, and so it must remain. Don't worry, your mission is not to find that weapon, that is my business," he continued, pacing among the rest of his followers. There was no sound in the room except for the rustle of his cloak as it brushed the floor. The rest of the Death Eaters looked like statues. "Here's the tricky thing: getting into Hogwarts. The fact that you are still a student, and lawfully in the castle, can be very useful to me. I have my men ready, but I need information from the inside. What enchantments are protecting it, secret passages, traitors letting us inside the walls... Anything. I know Severus is trying to find something that will be useful to us," he said almost wistfully, "but still without success. He can't make too many moves without risking revealing that he's on my side. And I don't have much time left... or patience. Therefore, if you manage to find out anything about the castle's defences, anything at all, it would be essential that you let us know immediately. It is possible," he added, his voice softening creepily, "that if you can be of any use to me in this matter, and help us get in... I might take a little more interest in getting your inept father out of Azkaban."

Draco opened his grey eyes wide, with a sudden surge of poorly concealed excitement.

"If I get information on how to get into the castle, will he get my father out of jail?"

"Of course, My Lord," the boy hastened to agree. "And what about Professor Dumbledore?" he ventured to add, more quietly.

Lord Voldemort was silent for a few moments, still pacing. When he spoke again, his voice was barely a whisper.

"Dumbledore is mine, and mine alone. I will deal with him, when the time comes," Voldemort reported, calmly, uncaring. Though he had managed to increase the density of the air in the room. He added, reflectively, "I am determined to enter the castle within the next few months. But I want to do it in a way that does not require the shedding of excessive magical blood, as would be the case if we tried to enter it by force. I could take it over right now, but... it would be unethical. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible loss."

Draco was at a loss for words. He felt something heavy slide down his throat. Understanding the scope of it all.

He was going to help the Death Eaters into the castle... He was going to hand the castle over to them.

"When we take the school," Voldemort continued more forcefully, stopping his walk, and drawing Draco's attention back. He then seemed to address all his followers, "When Hogwarts is ours, everything will be different. Young wizards will be raised with traditional magical values. And with the weapon we will get, no one will be able to stand in our way again. The wizarding world will be mine, and I will be able to rule it and cleanse it as I please, as I am destined to do," he sighed slowly through the nostrils that made up his nose, his gaze piercing the boy. Again, that smile-like grin, though it did not look human, curved Voldemort's mouth. "How do you feel knowing that you will be part of the blood cleansing we are preparing to rid the wizarding world of that filth called Muggles, Draco?"

The young man took a slow breath in an attempt to get his breathing back to normal. He clenched his fists, but gave him a firm look in return.

"Impatient, My Lord."

Although it was still several minutes before the Hogwarts Express was due to depart, thick white steam was beginning to rise from its chimney, enveloping the top of King's Cross station in a soft mist. Hundreds of students from the school, accompanied by their families, came and went in a noisy stroll, looking for their friends, saying goodbye to their parents and siblings, or searching for empty carriages.

"Kids, there's one right here!" shouted Molly Weasley, craning her head to see her family above the crowd. Ron, the only Weasley present, and the tallest of his friends, spotted his mother a few feet away, and the empty carriage she was gesturing at. Giving her a nod of confirmation, he preceded Harry and Hermione towards it.

"This is madness," protested the young Potter, trying to push through the tide of people as he pushed his trolley full of trunks, with the cage of an upset Hedwig at the top. "I didn't realise so many people had left. The castle must have been empty..."

"Where's Ginny gone?" asked Ron, looking around trying to visualise his little sister. "Did she get lost?"

"No, I think she's gone to see a friend," Hermione reported, stopping as several people with trolleys just as crowded as hers crossed in front of them towards one of the carriages. "The one I think is lost is your father..."

"Yeah, I don't see him. He's not with Mum..." admitted the red-haired boy, turning his head in several directions. They advanced a few metres, and again the three of them were forced to stop when they saw that the crowd in front of them was impassable. "Bah, he's tall, he'll find us. But why can't we go through here?" he added, irritated, seeing that there was no way to continue walking.

"Somebody's trolley's overturned up ahead," Hermione reported, stretching her head above the crowd to get a better look. "And it's blocking the way..."

"We'll miss the train at this rate," protested Ron, snorting so loudly that he ruffled his fringes. He pushed his heavy trolley awkwardly to one side, trying to get around the human barrier. He tried to go a little faster, to get to the carriage as quickly as possible. "You'll see how long it'll take them to collect all that..."

"Let's see how long it takes you, Weasley," a cold voice trailed behind them, its syllables slurring.

Ron instantly felt something tangled between his feet, causing him to lose his balance as he walked. He fell sideways to the ground, letting out a gasp, and as he was clutching the trolley with both hands, it came crashing down with him. The trunk overturned and opened, revealing its interior and covering the platform with his old second-hand clothes, some books and other personal belongings. The cage of his little owl fell as well, denting one corner, and causing the little door to fly open from the crash. It didn't take Pigwidgeon half a second to fly off at full speed, startled by the loud noise.

Some of the people nearby stopped or turned in their direction, attracted by the sound.

"Ron!" Hermione cried in alarm.

"Pig!" Ron shouted from the ground, looking up to see his owl fleeing through the crowd.

"Malfoy!" Harry shouted, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the person responsible for the accident.

Draco Malfoy, standing beside them with his arms folded and a sly grin on his face, gave him an openly derisive glare. Adrian Pucey, Malfoy's peer, also a Slytherin, stood to one side, bursting out in loud guffaws. On the other side of the blond was Pansy Parkinson, holding her stomach to contain her fit of laughter so she wouldn't fall to the floor.

"Merlin, how pathetic!" Pucey exclaimed, trying to breathe through his laughter. "The whole platform has shaken!" Pansy burst into tears of laughter at his words. Malfoy's grin widened in satisfaction.

"Magic isn't allowed outside of school, Potter," the blond hummed, glaring at the wand Potter was holding and pointing at him.

"Whatever, I can still stick it somewhere really painful for you, vermin," the dark-haired boy spat angrily, tightening his grip on his wand.

But Malfoy didn't hear his threat.

He didn't even hear his voice.

His eyes had wandered elsewhere, fixed now on the platform floor. On Weasley, and on Granger.

Ron was still sprawled on the floor with all his things around him, though he had pushed himself up into a sitting position, regaining a more dignified posture, so that he could murder the Slytherins with his eyes. Granger had knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his arm protectively. The girl's eyes scanned her friend's body, apparently making sure he was all right. The altered concern in Granger's eyes flashed through Draco's chest like a fiery draught, setting the back of his neck on fire.

How could she look at him like that, how could she stoop to worrying like that about someone as ridiculous as Weasley? The guy wasn't worth a damn, he didn't deserve a look like that from her...

Why on earth was she looking at him like that? Could it be that...?

Hermione suddenly turned her head decisively in Draco's direction, her thick hair swaying with the suddenness of the gesture. She locked her dark eyes on the blond's with anger so evident in them that his satisfied smirk nearly faltered.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You could have really hurt him, you brute!" Hermione scolded him, still glaring at him, in an indignant voice. Draco allowed himself to stare back at her silently for a moment, bewildered at the fury she was showing him. There was nothing left of the disillusionment and serenity she had shown when she had called him an 'arsehole' the last day they had seen each other. Granger's mood swings were beginning to be incomprehensible.

It would only make sense if...

Draco had no trouble regaining his composure. The sudden rage he felt, the burning he still felt in the back of his neck, made it easier.

"Don't freak out, Granger. The tiles have cushioned the blow from your beloved Weasley. And, see, not a single one has broken," he commented scornfully, almost spitting out the red-head's name, making Pucey and Parkinson laugh again.

Now it was Hermione's turn to almost let the anger in her expression falter. She couldn't help but look at him in bewilderment at the furious irony in his tone.

Beloved Weasley? Why had he said such a thing? Why did Malfoy seem so angry all of a sudden?

"Nice clothes, by the way, Weasel," Draco added, more than recovering his sly grin. "I don't suppose they're only second-hand, are they?" he bent down and picked up one of the young man's robes with two fingers, as if repulsed by it. "It must be fifth or thirteenth... Is this from the 12th century? I think Richard I of England had a —"

"I'm going to punch you twelve times, you bastard!" Harry shouted, lunging at him, but Malfoy stepped back nimbly. He held up both hands as if asking for a mocking truce, dropping Ron's robe as he did so, and still grinning broadly with malice.

"Easy, Potter, easy. Or you'll have a stroke, and Dumbledore will be left with no-one to give undeserved points to," the blond sneered, barely containing his laughter. "We're off."

He nodded to his two friends, and the three of them walked away laughing. Pucey slapped him on the back, saying something Harry and the others didn't hear. Pansy, still laughing uproariously, grabbed his hand as they walked, turning her face at the same time to grin at the Gryffindors mischievously. Her gaze and Hermione's met. The brunette made a grotesque gesture with her mouth. Hermione, undeterred, merely lifted her chin higher with pride. She had no intention of letting her face show the pangs her heart was giving her. Parkinson's hand gripping Draco's tightly, intertwining her fingers with his, touching his pale skin... it was clawing at her insides. How could she be jealous of Pansy Parkinson's gesture, and at the same time hate Draco so much that she wanted to hit him with all her might?

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron mumbled, his ears flaring red, trying to get to his feet. Harry was quick to grab his arm and pull him up to help him. Hermione stopped following the three Slytherins with her eyes when she saw Harry's gesture, and hurried to grab her friend's other arm. "Stupid ferret, bastard... If I catch him alone, I'm going to —"

"What are you doing? They've stolen the carriage I found for you!" a high-pitched, stifled voice suddenly exclaimed. Molly, flushed and dishevelled, was pushing her way through the crowd towards them. Seeing Ron's things on the floor, she stopped dead in her tracks. "What have you done? What's happened?"

"Malfoy tripped Ron and knocked him to the ground," Harry replied instantly, still with a murderous glint in his green eyes. Molly inhaled loudly.

"Malfoy? Draco Malfoy?" The woman looked both ways, upset. "And where has he gone?"

"I don't know, he went that way," Harry mumbled, nodding at the crowd that Malfoy and the others had passed through before they were out of sight. "But I don't see him any more..."

"Leave him, Mum," Ron spluttered, though he was still panting faintly from sheer rage, returning to his knees beside his overturned boot. "I'll catch him at Hogwarts. Now you'd better help me pack up, or we'll miss the train..."

"I'll find you another carriage, don't worry," his mother said, turning to wander back into the crowd.

Harry and Hermione knelt beside Ron, solicitous. But the girl's attention was not on her friend's objects. She had followed the direction Harry had pointed in, and had seen something the dark-haired boy had missed. A space had opened up in the crowd, and Hermione's gaze had focused on a lone figure leaning against a distant square column of the station. Malfoy's grey eyes pierced her even from that distance. Realising that he had managed to catch the girl's gaze, Draco circled the column without taking his eyes off her and disappeared from view at the back. Hermione felt her heart twist, fighting with itself.

How could she even be considering going to meet him after what he had done? Or maybe that was precisely why she should go... She took a quick glance around. There was no sign of Pucey or Parkinson.

"Ron, we need to go find Pig before the train leaves," she heard Harry say.

"Shit, that's right," Ron mumbled guiltily, stopping and looking around. "Where has he gone?"

"I'll get him, Ron," Hermione offered, not looking him in the eye. "You guys pack up. I'll be right back."

"Hurry up, it won't be long before eleven o'clock," Harry warned her, glancing at the station clock and putting Ron's belongings back in the trunk. "We'll put your luggage in any carriage we can find. Hopefully there's one of them still free..."

Hermione nodded with a nervous smile and stood up. She walked swiftly through the station, dodging through the crowd of students. She looked back after a few yards and saw that her friends were still busy with Ron's luggage and weren't looking at her. She changed direction instantly and headed without hesitation for the square pillar behind which she had seen Malfoy hiding. It was close to a wall, creating a dark gap between it and the column, less well lit than the nearby areas. Reaching it, she took one last glance over her shoulder as she rounded the corner of the column. Before she had time to return her gaze to the front, she felt slender fingers wrap around her elbow and pull her in tightly. Before she could take in what was happening, let alone say anything, her back was against the brick wall of the column, Draco's body pressed against hers and his lips enveloping hers in a kiss that took her breath away. Hermione was unable to hold back an instant moan that his mouth devoured. His face was tilted to the side before hers, the better to encompass her mouth. She felt one hand stay on her elbow, just to steady her, while the other rested equally on her waist. The boy didn't seem to care too much about where his hands were. His main focus was her mouth. To ravage it as if he only had ten seconds to do so.

Hermione couldn't believe it was happening. She had had so many mixed feelings during that long week... She'd spent half the time hating him, and half the time desiring him. And now he was standing in front of her again. He was kissing her. He was devouring her.

He was kissing her... after humiliating her friends.

Hermione felt reason return to her mind, as if a light went on inside her. She let out a second moan, this time of protest, and grabbed his arms to pull him away from her body. Firmly, using some force, for he was considerably heavier than she was. Malfoy didn't resist and agreed to pull his mouth away from hers, but he didn't move more than a step away either. He looked at her, confusion at her rejection shining in his grey eyes. The fact that he felt no remorse at what had just happened infuriated the girl.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione snapped at him harshly. Though her voice was a little shaky from the intensity of the recent kiss. "Why did you do that to Ron?"

Malfoy's face relaxed into a scornful sneer. He rolled his eyes and snorted, causing a mute warning to flash in her eyes. She still hadn't let go of his arms.

"Oh, come now, I haven't done anything to him..." he snarled, between his teeth.

"Of course you did! And you could have really hurt him! What was that for?" Hermione repeated, angrily, leaning closer to his face to confront him.

"I didn't fucking do anything to him!" he exclaimed impatiently, raising his voice and taking another step back. Letting go of her and forcing the girl to release his body. "Is it that every time we're alone we have to mention that stupid jerk? Every time we meet you have to defend him against me like you're his bloody mother?"

"I wouldn't have to if you didn't spend your life mortifying his!" Hermione shouted, taking a step forward, not taking her eyes off him. She hadn't even realised how loud she'd spoken, but there was such a racket in the station that it didn't matter much either. It was hard for anyone to hear them.

Draco's eyes flashed like the steel of a sword.

"That's right, what a mistake... It's about your beloved Weasley," Malfoy spat, his words slurring. "Forgive me for sometimes forgetting that you're crazy about him. It's your duty to defend him against criminals like me, then, of course... My bad."

Hermione stood petrified. Completely disarmed by those words. For two seconds, she could only stare into the blond's suddenly darkened eyes. The sneer that contracted his mouth.

"What?" Hermione blurted out in a whisper. She had frozen in confusion. "But what are you talking about?"

"Are you going to deny that you have feelings for that arsehole?" he spat, angrily, his voice rising again. As he spoke, he pointed an angry hand in the approximate direction of where Harry and Ron were standing. "Don't take me for an idiot..."

Hermione, once she had recovered from the shock, felt the fury sweep through her, up her legs, and lit her face on fire. She began to gasp for breath, filled with indignation. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"I beg your pardon? But — but... Are you listening to yourself? Do you think I'm capable of being with someone else despite what's between us? You dare to — accuse me — who do you think I am?" she raised her voice, too, tense, almost breathless. "You think I'd be doing this with you if I had feelings for Ron? Are you with someone else despite what we're doing?" she questioned then, angrily, without giving it a moment's thought.

And she almost wished she had. Thought about it first. Because she was suddenly livid. Her heart stopped at her own thoughts. She had not considered such a possibility. And, out of the blue, she was frighteningly aware of it. Given the clandestine nature of their relationship, because it was not public, she had assumed — accepted, rather — that what was between them was not serious. So she had not considered the fact that it was, in fact, not serious. With all that that implied. That they were not exclusive. They had agreed that they wouldn't be a couple, it was true. They were just going to let themselves be carried away by what they felt. To meet secretly. Did that mean they could see other people? They didn't even mention it as an option...

She didn't want to be with anyone else. That was her reality. But what about him? Maybe Malfoy was already seeing girls other than her? She felt her chest tremble with anguish, like a painful blow against reality. Of absurd jealousy she didn't want to feel.

Parkinson's hand clutching Draco's, minutes ago, danced before her eyes...

But then, if they could see other people, why was he furious at the idea of her and Ron together?

Draco brought her back to reality as he let out an incredulous snort, turning his face to the side. He didn't seem overly upset. Nor did he seem to feel the need to excuse himself excessively.

"Of course not, dammit," he simply blurted out irritably. Mentioning it as if it were ridiculous.

He ran his tongue over the surface of his teeth after those words, and folded his arms. Not looking at her. Though Hermione could hear him breathing loudly, still upset. The girl allowed herself to take a deep breath, regaining a more normal pulse. Almost embarrassed at the relief she felt at his words. Believing him, to her own disbelief, without reservation. The dispassionate tone in which he had spoken was enough. He wasn't seeing anyone else either.

She also felt herself blushing instantly, realising the extent of the situation. She was unable to look away from his grey eyes, though he seemed too angry to look at her. And she wasn't sure if the anger was towards her.

He was jealous. Malfoy was jealous. And he didn't seem to know how to handle it. And she didn't know either.

"I love him like a brother," Hermione broke the silence, quietly. So much calmer. Draco still didn't look at her, but it was clear he was listening. "Just... like a brother. He's my best friend. I thought it was obvious. There's nothing between us."

Saying that made the boy look up in her direction. He still looked annoyed, and a little out of place. His gaze was unfocused, and his face was tense, defensive. As if he was out of his depth, as if he was no longer in control of the situation. And as if he didn't know how to behave in that situation.

Finally, he straightened up, uncrossed his arms, and slipped both hands into the pockets of his thin coat. He fixed his eyes on the girl's, his expression impassive. And she told herself that she would renounce one of her 'Outstanding' in the N.E.W.T.s to know what was going on in his mind.

"I provoked that stupid fight because I didn't know how else to approach you," Draco said then, his voice calm. A little gruff, perhaps. But there was no malice, no sarcasm, no superiority in his tone. Only honesty. "I didn't do it to have fun at his expense. I just wanted us to see each other."

Hermione opened her mouth, but closed it again after several faint, meaningless sounds. She was speechless. When Malfoy spoke so earnestly, so sincerely, without mockery, without arrogance... he made her skin boil. His voice became different, more masculine, almost... sensual. The girl found it hard to breathe properly, and she couldn't help but feel an oppressive emotion building in her chest.

He had wanted to see her.

"You didn't have to attack Ron so we could see each other," Hermione protested, her voice still low. And serious. She had no intention, despite the tenderness throbbing in her chest, of giving in. She would not consent to something like that.

Malfoy gave a faint, sideways smirk, still with his hands in his pockets.

"No? And how else could I have caught your eye?"

"We would have seen each other in the castle. Or inside the train," Hermione replied firmly.

"Inside the train? In the middle of a crowded corridor, or with hundreds of doors that anyone could walk out of? Or in a full carriage?" he sneered, scornfully. The girl's eyes remained impassive, resolute in her stance, and that seemed to provoke some frustration in Draco. He averted his grey gaze to the side, clicking his tongue. "I didn't want to wait until we arrived at the castle," he added, with renewed seriousness, not looking at her.

Hermione looked at his eyes and hesitated for a few seconds, feeling her stomach clench. A mixture of resentment at hearing him try to justify what he'd done to Ron, and excitement at his testimony that he couldn't wait until they were at school to see her. Did that mean... had he missed her?

A strange nervousness suddenly assailed her and she realised that she was standing almost at the corner of the pillar, in a very dangerous position where it was possible for someone to see her. She peeked around the corner to make sure no one had noticed her, and then went back to hide closer to the centre of the column. Closer to him.

"I don't care why you did it," she said, and looked up at the boy. Her voice was firm, but also calm. Draco stared at her. "If you hurt Ron again, or any of my friends, this, what's between us, will end. I won't stand for it."

He said nothing. He was looking at her with a curious seriousness, scanning her face with his light eyes intently, without moving. Hermione felt strange under his gaze. Inexplicably nervous. As if a curious vertigo dulled her senses and prevented her from fully analysing the situation. Her face burned and her back tingled with heat. And Malfoy's eyes kept piercing her like two arrows. How long could he go on without blinking?

"Understood," he whispered, coldly. Hermione swallowed and let out her breath. She managed to breathe again. But Draco's eyes were still fixed on hers, and suddenly he added, "Does that mean it's not over yet?"

Hermione's lips twitched into a treacherous smile. She scanned his sharp, pale face, his bright eyes, and felt her bones tremble. She gritted her teeth without even realising it, forcing herself not to speak. Forcing herself not to reveal something she might later regret. She merely shook her head, a single refusal.

Of course not...

Hermione silently took a step closer to him, positioning herself right in front of him. Telling him what she wanted in a mute way. Asking him if he still wanted it too. Her conscience, her reasoning, would not allow her to take the first step, the most terrifying one. The one that showed the most vulnerability.

But, for once, Malfoy didn't seem to find it too difficult.

He lowered his face slowly towards hers, tilting his head down from his mighty stature until he was level with her. Hermione forced herself to stand still, and to close her eyes. Because if she kept them open, if she kept looking into his, she wasn't quite sure what she could do, or say. Malfoy pressed his face against hers, first bringing their foreheads together, their cheekbones, and then their noses, brushing in an intimate skin-to-skin caress. Their lips didn't quite meet, only their breaths did.

Hermione felt a tingle in her Cupid's bow, and the subtlety of the gesture sent a shiver down her spine, filling her with a longing that coursed through her like a surge of electricity. And then, without thinking, she suddenly found herself raising her neck slightly towards him, ending up joining their mouths in a soft kiss. Malfoy put subtlety aside as he felt the girl finally break the distance between their lips. He took several steps forward without releasing her mouth, forcing her back, again pinning her against the pillar. Hermione let out a gasp against his lips as she felt the impact against the wall. Draco rested his open palms on the cold, rough bricks on either side of her body as he thrust his jaw into hers. Hermione kissed him back enthusiastically, following his rhythm, breathing heavily whenever she had the chance.

Feeling a strange rapture sweep through her, she let herself go as far as her sanity would allow. She raised a hand, trembling, and ran it under his raised arm, wrapping it around his back over his coat. She clutched the stiff fabric tightly, pulling him closer, if that was possible, to her. She raised her other hand and placed it on the nape of his neck, tangling her fingers in his soft, straight blond hair, pressing his face closer. She felt Draco pause the kiss, just for an instant, to pant against her mouth. Their lips devoured each other. Almost starving, they were biting each other. It had been so long since something like this had happened between them...

Hermione turned her face just slightly, just enough to break the kiss subtly, but still holding him tightly in her hands. A smile appeared on her lips.

"Tell me later how your week went," she murmured, almost teasingly, as he refused to pull his lips away from her body, deciding to kiss her jaw as she spoke. He let out a snort that hid a chuckle against her skin, at the level of her ear. But then he froze completely against her.

His week...

His lips stopped kissing her, though they did not leave her skin. His eyes opened, and met her neck. To his left, his forearm was held up, leaning against the stone wall. The sleeve of his coat had dropped a few inches as his arm was raised. That piece of skin looked white, clean and normal. But he knew that was not the reality. He knew that the Dark Mark was there, silent, determined. A reminder of who he was. He gasped, unable to contain himself.

Minutes ago, seeing her with Potter and Weasley, seeing her again after a week, had clouded his reason. He was a Death Eater. He couldn't kiss Hermione Granger. That was the reality he had realised in his last few days of holiday, while at his Manor. If it had been forbidden before, if it had always been forbidden, now it was simply impossible. Now everything had become even more complicated. It had become hopelessly complicated. And it had taken the Dark Mark burned into his forearm to realise it. He was part of a movement that aspired to drive everyone like her out of the wizarding world. To murder them. To finish them off.

Seeing her was dangerous. It was suicidal. He couldn't... He couldn't...

"Hey..." Hermione whispered uneasily as she felt him freeze. She tried to see him just by moving her eyes, but he was too close to her. "Is everything all right?" She moved slightly, under his body, and managed to cup his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. Causing Draco to startle as he met her eyes. "Are you all right?"

He looked back at her, trying in vain to relax, to not think. Not to give the impression that he was mentally disturbed. He gulped, trying to loosen the lump in his throat. But the look of sincere concern in those round eyes only tightened the knot, choking him. The glassy look in her eyes, which made him wonder how they could shine like that in the gloom. Her lips parted in an uneasy grimace, furiously flushed, and still damp from the passionate kiss. The small area that was even redder at the bottom one, where he had bitten her. Her skin. Her thick brown hair, hiding her ears, framing her features. Framing that open concern for him...

Her fucking hands holding his face...

And he realised that he couldn't. He definitely couldn't. He couldn't give up on her.

He was a Death Eater, and that changed a lot of things in his life. But not how he felt about her. It didn't change what Granger provoked in him at all. If, weeks ago, he hadn't been able to suppress his feelings for her, which was why they had begun their clandestine relationship, he knew he wasn't going to be able to now either. And the Dark Mark wouldn't change that. He couldn't give up those moments with Granger.

And he decided, with a surge of recklessness that was not in his nature, that he would not give them up.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation, though with a slight tremor in his vocal cords. He reached for her hands with unusual gentleness and pulled them away from his face. He cleared his throat discreetly, pulling himself together. "It's nothing. I've... remembered something. My week went well, how was yours?" he added, in a reserved tone of voice that was more typical of him. Hermione still stared at him for a few seconds, scrutinising him intently, but it didn't take long for her to relax again. Her lips curved into a small smile, grateful at his cordial question.

"Good too. Short... and long at the same time," she admitted, giving him a knowing look.

Draco's lips quirked into a faint hint of a smile, and his eyes glittered with arrogance. With renewed seriousness in his expression, he glanced to the side, to the area of the station he could see from where they stood. Uneasy. Making sure no one was paying attention to them. Then he looked back at the girl, who was gazing at him serenely. Still stuck to the wall, and to his body.

"See you at the castle," Draco whispered then, very close to her mouth.

He leaned towards her one last time and pressed his lips to hers in a quick kiss that made her shudder with surprise. Above their heads they heard the whistle of the train, soon to be departing. Malfoy deepened the kiss just a little — as he inhaled through his sharp nose — before he pulled away from her, walking purposefully around the corner and out of sight.

Hermione stared, unseeing, at the corner he had just rounded. Her heart pounding in her fingertips. Despite the tenderness of his last gesture, she felt slightly uneasy about his strange behaviour. She didn't quite understand what had happened. She didn't understand why he had suddenly seemed so distracted, so worried. What had he remembered that had made him so unsettled?

She thought that the more time she spent in his company, the less she understood him.

She heard a faint chirping sound above her head, and, looking up, found herself face to face with the little Pigwidgeon, who was hovering around the pillar, hooting happily at having gained his freedom.