Stupidity? Despair?

Slow step ...

It was once worth doing.

Minute rush

Crazy trifle ...

Or maybe this is how courage manifests itself?

Cheeks are burning

Heartbeat in my ears

Slight trembling in weak knees.

Silly impulse

Step in time -

And they bent into a spiral of moment-steps.

Stairway to Heaven,

Maybe hell.

The smell of spring and the rustling sea ...

Stairway to the past:

Up and back ...

And if the fall? Well, well ... it's worth it.

Being in this room next to the person she hated, the girl clearly understood: now she depends on him completely and completely.

Hermione looked into Draco Malfoy's eyes and involuntarily staggered backward, tangling in the hanging robes. If she thought Malfoy was angry to see her in her room ... No! What do you! It turns out that before that he was just a model of friendliness and hospitality. Now, the only thing that still saved the health and life of the unfortunate Gryffindor was his unwillingness to spoil his own wardrobe, which, apparently, he treasured very much. But as soon as she left the closet ... Hermione noticed that Malfoy's right hand was nervously clenching and unclenching, and pressed against the saving robes.

"Granger! I won't repeat it," his voice was so low that Hermione had to listen. Is calmness a good sign? Only his voice somehow does not fit with this look.

If she knew Malfoy a little better, she would have realized that he had reached a boiling point. This quality was developed in him by his father. He forbade his son to show emotions, and from the very childhood Draco had a trait: the more angry or irritated he was, the quieter and calmer his voice sounded, making everyone around him numb. Unlike seventeen-year-old Lucius, Draco Malfoy was truly feared. He was a cruel and dangerous man, and his caustic speech often hurt more than many spells. His advantage was that he saw people: their thoughts, feelings. It was easier to control by pulling the right strings. Without hesitation, he could name ten ways to get any student of Hogwarts, to whom his attention fell at one time. He even knew in advance what the reaction of this or that person would be. His victim only had time to think about how to answer the offender, and he already knew what this answer would be. From the outside it might seem that he is able to read minds. In fact, he just never looked at people, he just saw them.

Blaise, who had devoted more than ten years of her life to observing this strange man, was completely sure that if he had set a goal: she could charm even Professor McGonagall, who, by the way, could not stand him. After all, knowing how to inflict pain, he probably knew how to heal it and give joy. But he preferred to limit himself to only the first part of this action. Simply because he didn't need these people. They didn't bother him. Blaise always believed that the person to whom Draco Malfoy wants to lend a hand of friendship will find a lot in his face. After all, she knew him not only as cruel and arrogant. With her he was different. Sometimes, if you allowed yourself to relax. No, he was not trying to charm her. What for? She was already ready for anything for him. It was just that he was sometimes ordinary with her. At such moments, she understood that behind the mask of an arrogant teenager was hiding a tired child who had lost his childhood too long ago. Previously, she thought that time would pass, and Draco Malfoy would finally become just a person, not carrying the burden of this damned name on his shoulders. But something always happened that over and over again made him smile cruelly and lower his voice almost to a whisper. At such moments, even she was afraid of him. What can we say about the unfortunate Hermione Granger, who in general never saw anything on Malfoy's face except contempt.

"You have four minutes ..."

"Malfoy, this is a very long story. I don't know ... how can I tell you? Maybe you started it all yourself?"

Although now Hermione had already begun to admit the idea that Draco Malfoy might really know nothing about Harry's capture.

"Three minutes ..." he had already overcome the fit of rage, and now his face was impenetrable, only his voice was barely audible.

"Malfoy, wait, you can't. Well, let me at least get out of the closet ..." Saying this, the girl tried to get out, tangled in her hanging clothes and almost fell to the floor.

"Two."

Draco Malfoy turned away from his victim and moved slowly towards the front door. Now he will open it and push the girl out of the room.

"Harry is here!" Hermione blurted out loudly.

Malfoy's hand reaching for the doorknob froze in the air. He turned sharply and tensed like a tiger before jumping. Hermione, without taking her eyes off him, cautiously climbed out of the closet, and, despite the seriousness of the situation, almost laughed. Draco Malfoy seemed to be struggling to resist the urge to look under the wide bed.

"Are you saying that you chose my bedroom as the meeting place with your beloved Potter?" there was a dangerous softness in his voice.

"No!" exclaimed Hermione. "He's not in your bedroom, he's in your dungeon."

"Firstly, this is my father's dungeon, and secondly, you are talking nonsense. Where does he come from here?"

"He was kidnapped by people in black clothes."

"Yeah, like in a detective story. On a dark, dark night, people in black clothes appeared on the street whatever it was, sneaked into the house and grabbed the unfortunate Potter, just as he was, in pajamas with a heart. By the way, you were also present at that moment in his bedroom? " his grin was unbearable.

"And this is a dark night, Malfoy! He was kidnapped in the afternoon in Central Park."

The young man raised an eyebrow skeptically and grinned. Hermione realized that he didn't believe a word she said.

"Malfoy, turn on your brains!" the girl said with irritation. "Why should I come to your house at night looking? Do you really think that I missed the summer."

"Probably, considering that you were with Potter and the Weasleys. I wonder how you are even alive, how you are all alive. Your conversations go out of your mind. Topics of the season: number one - the Dark Lord; number two - saving the world. that one of the three was finally reaching for a bit of intellectual conversation. "

Suddenly his grin disappeared and he said sharply:

"I'm waiting for the truth! And I'm more interested in the way you got here."

"You don't ask why I'm here?" Hermione couldn't believe her ears.

"The reasons do not interest me very much, the result for you will still be the same."

Hermione swallowed. "What does he mean?"

"But you better tell me everything."

"We took a walk in Central Park," she began.

Draco Malfoy was still at the door, his hands in the front pockets of his trousers, his thumbs flexing and unbending impatiently. At the same time, for some reason, he rolled from toe to heel.

"We ate ice cream, laughed," Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes. Until a few hours ago, they were carefree and happy. Everything was wonderful. And Harry was laughing so merrily, his eyes were so shining, and now he ...

"Granger, spare me the tearful details," the indifferent voice brought her back to reality.

The girl blinked furiously and thought to herself that if she got out of here, she would come up with such a punishment for this bastard that he would return a hundred times her every tear and every minute of Harry's suffering.

"Then a carriage appeared with your coat of arms on the doors and took Harry away."

"People?" the question sounded monosyllabic, but she understood what it was about.

"Nobody noticed anything. I don't know how it was done."

It seems that he wanted to sneer about the fact that she does not know everything in the world, but he kept silent. Hermione didn't flatter herself with the thought that it was out of tact. He just wanted to quickly understand the situation.

"They just dragged Harry into the carriage. And everything went on as usual and ..."

"Why did they keep you alive, did they not erase your memory?"

Interesting priorities, Hermione thought.

"You're a witness. It's illogical."

Really. They could not want to be recognized. Or is this a way to lure her here? Hermione felt cold. The window was still open, and through it a cool breeze was blowing into the room, bringing with it the smell of the sea. The girl loved the sea. She would have been glad another time. But not now.

"Where were you at that moment?"

His question pierced her brain with insight.

"I went to the urn to throw out the ice cream wrapper."

He nodded.

"Later?"

"Then they drove off, and I jumped into the luggage compartment."

"Without telling anyone!" He laughed. "You're an idiot, Granger! How do you hope to get out of here now? You're trapped! No one will think of looking for you in this house. To begin with, everyone will decide that you have retired somewhere and while away the days before school ... "

"Dumbledore will find us!" Hermione said stubbornly, although in her heart she understood that he was right a thousand times over. She's really an idiot. She herself did not use the opportunity to save Harry. "

"Well, well, wait ... Tell us further!" with these words he went to the table, pulled out a heavy chair and, turning it back forward, saddled. "And by the way, you can sit down."

In response to the girl's puzzled look, he explained:

"My head starts spinning from your attempts to portray a clockwork engine."

It was only then that Hermione noticed that, while talking, she was walking back and forth in front of the closet with excitement, and all the time along the same trajectory.

"There is nothing more to tell," the girl grunted angrily and, sitting down on the edge of the huge bed, began to fiddle with the dark green bedspread. "We ended up here ..."

"How?" Malfoy asked, folding his hands over the back of the chair and resting his chin on them. Hermione was unnerved by his gaze.

"Harry was carried away through some door downstairs, and I got scared and ran to the castle. That's all."

"I mean, how did you end up in the castle grounds?" Malfoy explained patiently. Although his stock of patience seemed to be running out at a catastrophic rate.

"That's stupid!" thought Hermione.

"I drove into the luggage compartment of the crew," the girl explained as being mentally retarded.

A strange smile answered her.

"You're lying!" he said softly. "Either you tell the truth immediately, or I call the guards. They can get you to talk."

"Malfoy, I'm not lying!"

"Granger, I've lived in this house for seventeen years," Malfoy said confidentially. "The castle grounds cannot be entered. The people in the carriage must have had access, and they cast a spell on Potter. How do you explain your appearance here now?" the owner of the room asked in a silky voice.

"Malfoy, I ... I don't know, you have to believe ..."

"I owe nothing to anyone, least of all to you."

He got up abruptly and moved to the fireplace.

"Draco, please," Hermione said this before she could comprehend. It was the first time in six years that she had called him by his first name. It's just that here, in this monstrous house, in the dungeon of which Harry suffered, there was no six years of feud. There was a chilling fear and a weak Hope for salvation. And Hermione was going to use this ghostly chance.

The sound of his own name made Malfoy freeze. Heart pounding, Hermione watched him slowly turn around. There was ... joy in his eyes? Evil fun? Or maybe it was just the reflection of the flame that made them respond to the play of light and shadow.

"Granger," his voice was derisive, "is your next step to offer yourself?"

With these words, he went to the girl, who only now realized the whole meaning of the phrase he had said. This is how he interpreted her attempt! Hermione felt a fever. She realized for the first time that the room they were in was a bedroom, and she herself was sitting on a huge double bed. If this turns out to be the only chance to influence him, what will be her choice? Not having time to think about anything, the girl jumped up and rushed to the window. She didn't know what she was going to do. Jump? Stupid. Hermione turned sharply. Malfoy grinned as he approached her. The window sill crashed painfully into the girl's lower back. The Slytherin stopped very close and put his hands on the windowsill on either side of Hermione. She didn't know what to do. Praise be to Merlin, he did not touch her, but stood very close, so close that Hermione saw a small bruise on his collarbone left by his fiance. She couldn't bring herself to look into his face. It was too much. The girl was afraid of what she could see in his merciless eyes, therefore, with enviable persistence, she studied this stupid bruise: its color, shape. "How did you have to try to make it resemble ... a snitch?" a stupid comparison came to the tortured brain.

"Malfoy," she babbled, looking up. Her tormentor raised an eyebrow mockingly, expecting to continue, but Hermione fell silent.

Rightly guessing that there would be no sequel, Malfoy said:

"Granger, I will bring to your attention that in the list of girls with whom I want to sleep, you also stand in last place. Although," he added, "I tricked you."

"Does he really hate someone else more?" a crazy thought flashed through. For some reason, Hermione thought it was important.

"You are not on this list at all," Malfoy finished his thought and stepped back, pushing himself sharply away from the windowsill.

Was Hermione shocked? Relief? Resentment? She did not know. But the stress experienced finally blew up the exhausted brain with its stunning novelty thought. She's a sorceress! I remembered! Without taking her eyes off Malfoy, who had time to ring the bell over the fireplace, Hermione took her wand out of her jeans pocket and immediately felt more confident. Now we need to act quickly.

"Malfoy!" she said sharply. The Slytherin looked around in surprise. He clearly did not expect this.

"If you want to live, do not show that you are not alone here."

"Are you sure you know how to use it?" he asked cheerfully. "I mean, for the purpose you got it for?"

"I'm sure," Hermione promised. She didn't like his amusement at all. He clearly did not take the threat seriously. "Malfoy, I know a spell that will cover you all up with such filth that even Madam Pomfrey can't do it in a month."

He shrugged.

"Try not to shoot them at me ahead of time, otherwise it won't look like I'm here alone," Malfoy chuckled.

How can he grin? Isn't he scared? She's not joking!

At this time, footsteps were heard outside the door. Hermione, without lowering her wand, hid behind the opening door. A house elf entered the room.

"Whatever the owner wants?" Hermione was jarred by the servility in his voice. She lowered her wand. Why did Malfoy call not the guards, but the house elf? Although they know how to conjure, so ... Hermione again pointed her wand at Malfoy, but neither the owner of the room, nor the housekeeper paid her the slightest attention.

"What's with the main gate?" Malfoy asked. There was so much authority in his voice that Hermione shivered nervously.

"Sir wants to know when will the force field repair be completed?" began the elf, bending into three deaths. Hermione would have felt sorry for him another time, but now her gaze was fixed on Malfoy's face. If she hadn't stared so intently, she would have missed the fleeting confusion in his eyes. Apparently "sir" did not even suspect about the beginning of this very repair.

"It'll be over by noon, sir."

"You may go," the lord majestically permitted, "and not a word to my father about what I had."

"Polly hasn't seen the young master in two months," the elf bowed.

"Okay. Go."

The door closed behind the elf, and there was silence. Malfoy was thinking about something. Hermione stood with her wand raised and didn't know what to do. Finally Malfoy turned to her.

"Granger ..."

"Stay away! Now you will lead me into the dungeon or I ..."

Draco Malfoy silently took a step towards her and before Hermione could think of anything, he squeezed her right wrist painfully, forcing her to release his wand.

Hermione fought furiously. It hurt, but she didn't want to give in. When Malfoy got bored, he pressed a point, and the girl's numb fingers unclenched by themselves. The wand fell silently onto the carpet. After releasing Hermione, Malfoy bent down for his wand, picked it up and put it in his pocket.

"That's better, otherwise you'll gouge someone's eye out."

Hermione swallowed her tears. He mocked. He knew that she would not be able to use the wand, hence all his fun. He knew what she would do. And he didn't call security because he was playing. The girl realized that this devil, whose blond hair was now fluttering in the night wind, could do anything with her. And that he was the director of the play that took place in this room for the last few minutes. And now he was shamelessly enjoying his triumph. And who could blame him for that? Realizing that you can play with living people, like puppets ... at seventeen it will intoxicate anyone.

"Why are you going to the dungeon?" he asked lazily.

"Save Harry," the girl replied angrily.

"Class! Only there you will not be able to penetrate unnoticed, even with my help. You will certainly be found, dragged into the cell to Potter, and then it will be possible to twist ropes from it."

"Why?" Hermione listened to him as if spellbound.

"Granger," Malfoy said wearily, "Potter can't stand the pain."
"I ask: why can't you lead me into the dungeon?" barely restraining herself, said Hermione.

"Because!" snapped Malfoy.

There was silence. Hermione nervously counted to ten in her mind so as not to scream. And Malfoy was staring at one point, biting his lip.

"You're wrong," the girl finally broke down, almost breaking into a scream. "Harry is strong and he ... is not afraid of pain!"

"I know," Malfoy surprised her, "why do you think I prefer to talk to him more often than fight?"

"You're afraid of him."

Malfoy laughed.

"Finger to the sky again. There are not many things in the world that I fear," suddenly his face became serious. "Every person has a weak point. Potter has loved ones. He shrinks if they are hit with just words. Now imagine what would happen to him if a crucio was applied to you in front of him."

"It's an unforgivable spell. Your father won't do that."

"It's a nurturing spell for my father," Draco Malfoy stunned her in a calm voice.

"Are you saying he applied it to you?"

Malfoy jerked his shoulder and said:

"I can tell that now it is for sure being applied to Potter."

"But this is unbearably painful. The books describe ..." Draco Malfoy's harsh chuckle made her realize what nonsense she was talking about.

The books describe ... And next to him is someone who has experienced it on himself. "Educational spell". So from childhood ...

"Your father is a monster."

"Leave my family alone, Granger!"

After his harsh call, there was silence. Hermione was silent, staring into the fireplace. What to do?

"How did you know this is my room?"

"What?" the girl did not immediately understand the transition. "Ah-ah. I didn't know."

He tilted his head in disbelief.

"I ran down the corridors and then hid in this room."

"Hmm, only you could be so lucky. From the whole castle ... By the way, except for house elves, only I enter this wing."

"Lucky? You flatter yourself, Malfoy, if you think you are gay."

"I can arrange a tour to the dungeon. The troll guards will surely amuse you more with their grunts."

"Yeah, your company is preferable," Hermione admitted reluctantly, "if not for your adored daddy ..."

"Granger, are you hearing or memory impaired ?!"

"I won't anymore."

"Now I will return your wand ..."

Hermione perked up with delight.

"Don't rejoice. Sensory enchantments have been imposed on all the rooms of the castle. Before you can finish the spell, you will have a close acquaintance with the cute trolls."
"Malfoy, how do you manage to live in such a sweet environment?"

He turned to her warningly, probably to inquire about her health again, but at that moment there was a knock on the door.

"Straight to the dating house!" muttered Hermione, darting towards the closet. "How can so many people want to see Malfoy before bed? I would have had nightmares for a week."

Perhaps Draco could have told her a lot about this, but instead, hiding Hermione saw him take a deep breath and went to open the door.

When will it all end?

How do you like fan fiction? Is it worth translating it further? :)