Lady Malfoy

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Varsti saate teada, kes või mis see seal vangikoobastes on ^^

Chapter 7 : The Shadows within the Darkness

Hermione limped across the dark dungeons, helplessly grabbing at the walls for support. She now knew as clearly as ever the meaning of the phrase ‘silent as the grave’. The silence was almost deafening in the cold, dark dungeons – enough to make a person go mad. Hermione shivered uncontrollably and despite her chills, held on to the cold walls for support but she realized after a while, it wasn’t the cold that was giving her chills.

She felt herself afraid, for the first time in many years. Not afraid like telling Ron about Malfoy or afraid of tripping down the stairs – but afraid of something unknown and dark. She couldn’t explain the feeling – logic and reason could not be used. All she knew was that her heart was beating loudly in her ears and yet the silence of her surroundings overwhelmed her. Small wisps of frost expelled out her mouth as breathed in and out as she tried to remember the way back.

It was too dark to see where she had come from and the only thing she could make out were the vague shadows of the objects that surrounded her. She guessed that anyone who entered the dungeons was never supposed to leave.

“Ring around the roses… a pocket full of posies…” she began singing in hushed tones to drown out the ringing in her ears.

Her footsteps began to echo in the darkness and her voice resounded. “Ashes… ashes...”

“Ashes…ashes…” her voice echoed.

“Ashes…ashes…” but this time, it wasn’t an echo. The voice that had repeated the words was not Hermione’s trembling, low voice but rather a shrill, high pitched one.

“Hello?” Hermione called out.

No response. She trotted forward, blindly grabbing on to anything that would provide her support. “Is anyone there?” she repeated. The hair on her neck began to shiver as the voice repeated the words.

“Ashes…ashes…”

“Who is that?” Hermione cried. She placed her fingers carefully around her wand and drew it out. “Lumos!” she whispered. There was no light. She repeated the spell again but no light shone from the tip of her wand. Logic and reason had abandoned her fear long ago and now even magic was not working for her – Hermione stopped short and craned her neck, trying to spot the source of the voice.

“Who... who is that?” she said chokingly. “Malfoy…is that you?”

The voice continued singing in its shrill voice. “Ashes…ashes…”

“That’s not funny!” Hermione cried. “Malfoy, stop it!”


“And we all fall down!” the shrill voice finished the song. Hermione turned immediately and screamed as a swirl of bright green smoke surrounded her and from it, the shadow of a figure emerged.

Hermione reached for her wand but her trembling hands couldn’t make a steady grip around it. “Eli!” She yelled.

“And we all fall down!” the figure repeated. Hermione still couldn’t make out what the figure was but it was most definitely, not human. The shrill voice began to sing again in hushed tones and Hermione fell to the ground, surrounded by the green mist.

Her heart skipped a beat as the green mist rose and covered the walls. The voice was laughing now and the sheer coldness of the dungeons was beginning to sink into Hermione’s bones. All she saw was the green and amidst it, the shadow swiftly encircling her.

“Help!” she cried.

“Help!” the voice repeated gleefully. It laughed menacingly, like the shrill laughter a banshee makes before it attacks but with the coldness that only someone who has faced dementors could understand.

“HELP!” Hermione cried out again.

She felt completely helpless. Her magic would not work and her limbs were failing her. She collapsed on the floor as the green midst rose higher and higher while the darkness refused to dissipate.

“Aren’t you going to sing?” the shrill voice spoke. Hermione’s eyes widened. It was the voice of a woman.

“Who are you?” Hermione asked, rising up a little.

“AND WE ALL FALL DOWN!” Emerald flames erupted from the floor and singed Hermione’s skin as she fell backward. Blackness descended over her eyes and she lost the will to keep moving… slowly, the shrill voice grew further and further away and the last thing she heard before she passed out was the yell of a man and a bright white light.

---

Hermione,
I can’t say things are going well here without you but they’re not that bad. Ron’s still pretty grim about you leaving and all he does is go to work and come home and sleep and go to work (well, you get the point). I keep telling him to write to you and he always tells me that he doesn’t know what to say. (Apparently, “I miss you” is not enough for him.) Either way, things aren’t exactly the best they’ve been. Harry’s busy with Ministry stuff and keeps an eye on Ron at work; I guess it suffices to say that without you, he’s miserable. Write to him soon, it’ll make him feel loads better.
Everyone else is doing fine here…mum and dad are busy with Victoire and Teddy’s spending a few days with us (Andromeda dropped him off yesterday) so he keeps Harry and I very busy. We decided to extend our stay at the Burrow a little longer – especially with Teddy staying here. Mum thinks it’s a good idea for Ron to stay too so we can keep an eye on him.
Right back soon,
Ginny

PS: Harry says hi.

“Did you write that I said hi?” Harry asked Ginny as he peered over her shoulder.

“Yes, yes I did,” Ginny replied, showing Harry exactly where she had written her post script.

“Thank you,” Harry said cheerily.

“Yes, I’m sure she’ll feel much better now that you’ve said hi to her.”

“Clearly it’s the thought that counts,” Harry said. “Anyways, I doubt anything can make Hermione feel better.”

“I know…” Ginny sighed.

“I wish Ron would stop being such a brute though,” Harry pondered.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you see him chew into the roast tonight?”

“Ron’s always been like that,” Ginny joked. “He’d always let his feelings out with food.”

Just then, the door to Ginny’s bedroom creaked open and Teddy came wobbling in. “Uncle Harry!” he complained.

“What is it, Teddy?” Harry asked, as he took the toddler into his arms and lifted him off the floor.

“Vickie took my broomstick!” he wept. He was still far too young to be able to pronounce Victoire’s name correctly.

“You have to share with her,” Ginny replied with a smile.

“But it’s mine!”

“Yes, sweetie I know that,” Ginny responded. “But she lets you use her toys, doesn’t she?

“She’s stupid!” Teddy yelled.

“Don’t say that!” Harry said sternly. “She’s your friend, isn’t she?”

“No, she’s a girl!”

Harry laughed as Ginny gave Teddy a kiss on the cheek. “Someday you’ll be begging for girls to be your friends,” Harry told him.

“What? A handsome guy like Teddy?” Ginny smiled. “He’ll have girls lining up for him.”

“Gross!” Teddy whined.

“Hey, isn’t it your nap time?” Harry asked Teddy who smiled mischievously. “Let’s go down and apologize to Victoire. And then, we’ll go to bed.”

“Can I sleep in your room?” Teddy asked Harry.

“Yeah sure,” he said. He got up and kissed Ginny while Teddy started laughing at them both.

“Brat,” Ginny joked as Harry and Teddy left the room. Ginny turned back to her desk and rolled up the parchment on which she had written her letter. She gingerly attached it to her owl’s leg and sent it flying out into the afternoon sun.
---

“Ms. Granger…”

Hermione twitched slightly. She felt herself shiver as drops of cold water fell against her face. Her entire body was still trembling but not from fear anymore, it was trembling from the freezing temperature around her.

She took three short breaths and opened her eyes a fraction to see the white fog form as she exhaled. Her eyelids fluttered and she closed her eyes again, unable to muster the strength to open them completely. The green flames still encircled her mind as she remembered the darkness and fear and the cold and the laugh…that’s laugh of a creature who has nothing to lose – nothing to fear.

“Ms. Granger… open your eyes…” The cold water against her face seemed to increase as drops fell more rapidly. Her hair was wet and her lower lip was shaking uncontrollably from the cold.

She finally opened her eyes slowly and took a few minutes to adjust to the darkness. She was still in the dungeons but there were no more green flames or mist around the walls. Everything had gone back to being as it was before…like nothing had ever happened. She moved her head a little and saw Eli’s relieved face come into view.

He was holding up his wand from which the drops of water were falling and when he saw her eyes open, he moved his lips slightly and the drops stopped. Placing his wand beside him, he lifted Hermione’s head off the ground and spoke to her.

“Can you hear me?”

Hermione couldn’t gather the energy to speak but nodded slowly.

“Ms. Granger, do you know who I am?”

Hermione nodded again. Eli smiled and heaved a sigh of relief. “Come up dear, let’s get you dry.”

He placed his arm gingerly on Hermione’s shoulder and helped her off the ground. And then, waving his wand, conjured up a stretcher onto which Hermione was placed. Hermione saw Eli wave his wand and the stretcher began to move itself out of the dungeon.

“Aren’t you coming?” Hermione said weakly, as she saw Eli turn back towards the darkness.

“Momentarily, Ms. Granger,” he said and turned. Hermione craned her neck slightly only to see a figure sitting up against the wall, grasping onto its arm – his blonde hair, bloodstained.
---

House-elves were dabbing Hermione’s burns with a healing solution when Eli came into the room. It had a been about 2 hours since the stretcher had brought her back to her room and three house elves had taken to tending to her injured and weak body.

They had used a spell to dry her hair and clothes and covered her with multiple blankets. Two of them was currently dabbing a deep burn on her neck while the other was fetching some more bandages.

“Are you alright, Ms. Granger?” Eli asked kindly as he examined the weary woman.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied truthfully.

“It’s understandable,” he said. “Those burns you got are rather serious.”

Hermione looked to her hand where one of the elves had bandaged a deep black burn that was still throbbing from the pain.

“Miss, you does not have to worry,” one of the elves squeaked cheerfully. “I is knowing how to fix you.”

Hermione smiled and her spirits lifted slightly. “Thank you. You’re doing an excellent job.” The elf bowed in gratitude and turned back to dabbing the wound on her neck.

“Greta is a medicinal elf,” Eli said, beaming at the eager worker.

“Medicinal?”

“They’re elves trained by St. Mungo’s in healing all kinds of ailments,” Eli explained. “Particularly ailments as serious as yours.”

“It’s not the burns that worry me,” Hermione said pensively.

Eli’s expression changed a little to one of concern. He knew she’d ask.

“What was that in the dungeons, Eli?” Hermione asked.

“I am not quite so sure myself,” Eli replied. He hadn’t lied to her – despite knowing who she was, he really didn’t know what she was.

“But…what was it doing down there?” Hermione asked, pushing for an answer.

“I’d rather you not ask,” Eli said truthfully. “This mansion has many secrets, my dear. Some are best left undisturbed.”

“I want to know,” Hermione said adamantly as she sat up straight and knocked a bottle of healing potion out of Greta’s hands.

“I must insist,” Eli said.

“Don’t insult my intelligence Eli!” Hermione protested. “Just…”

“Ms. Granger,” Eli said strongly. “You are a brave girl and one whose intelligence I would never think of insulting. I can in all honestly tell you that whatever it was in dungeons will not attack you again as long as you stay clear of the dungeons. Darkness and fear are the very things these creatures feed off of.”

Hermione knew that Eli would not answer any more of her questions. She sat back down and breathed in deeply. The screams she had released in the dungeons had left a lasting effect on her lungs and she cringed every time she breathed really deeply.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It is I who should be apologizing,” Eli said, bowing his head.

Hermione smiled slightly to mask the many thoughts that were flying through her head right now. She would figure out who it was in the dungeons. She was not one to back down from a challenge or the unknown – seven years at Hogwarts had taught her.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so,” Eli said kindly and turned towards the door. “Ah yes, before I forget.” He reached into his pocket and placed a folded piece of parchment by Hermione’s bedside. “This came for you a few minutes ago.”

“Grobon,” Eli said, referring to the other house elf. “Go down to the kitchen and bring Ms. Granger some caramel blueberries.”

“Caramel blueberries?” Hermione asked.

“The sugar will help restore your energy,” Eli smiled as he left the room.

Grobon disapparated while Hermione reached for the letter by her bedside – it was from Ginny. As her brown eyes scanned the letter, the two elves packed up the healing potions and disapparated out of the room. Hermione smiled at the last line, “PS: Harry says hi.”. She reached for a quill and parchment and began writing her reply.

---

Eli entered the lavish master bedroom where Draco said at the foot of his bed, breathing deeply and heavily.

“Is it any better?” Eli asked.

“No.” Draco replied bluntly as a small house elf pressed a moist cloth with green liquid against his bare chest. When she took the cloth off, the burnt flesh and black seared skin shone perfectly against Malfoy’s pale skin. His face had lost a lot of colour and his breaths continued to be inconsistent and heavy.

“I need...” Draco took a moment to breathe. “I need you to…check…”

“She’s alright, Master Malfoy,” Eli replied.

“Any burns?”

“A fair few but none that can cause any severe damage. Greta is looking after her.”

“Did she…” Draco breathed. “ask... did she ask you?”

“Don’t overwork yourself, Master Malfoy,” Eli said with concern. “She asked me but I told her nothing, as you said.”

“What’s she doing now?” Draco asked, with great difficulty.

“She got a letter, she’s reading it,” Eli replied. “I will get you something to drink, sir.”

“What about Adria?” Draco asked.

“After she burnt you, she fled to the Northern Tower,” Eli replied.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Humm. Adria ?!

[Julia Darline Evans]

Raudselt mingi rääkiv ülekasvanud sisalik

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter 8 : The Aftermath

Harry’s eyes flew open with the patter of feet outside in the hall. He turned his head towards his watch and strained his eyes to read the time. After a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw that it was almost three in the morning. He raised his head slowly and turned to Ginny who was fast asleep on his right. He sat upright and rubbed his eyes carelessly and expelled a slight yawn. Between them, Teddy was snuggled under his blanket, breathing softly as he dreamed, hopefully of good things.

Harry placed his right foot on the ground in an attempt to find his slippers. He then got up, grabbed his wand carefully from his robes and started towards the door. The patter of feet had died down but Harry could still hear it outside.

“Lumos”, Harry whispered, and his wand tip light up, illuminating his path. As he reached towards the door handle, he turned it ever so slightly and saw a figure heading into one of the rooms.

“Ron?” Harry called out and the figure turned. It was Ron.

“Harry!” Ron said, surprised at his friend’s appearance. “What’re you doing up so late?”

“I thought I heard something…” Harry said, confused.

“Yeah, that was me. Sorry, mate.”

“Ron,” Harry said. “Why are you still awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Ron shrugged. Harry came out into the hall and closed the door to his room gently behind him.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Ron said quickly but it was beyond obvious what the problem was.

Harry sighed. “You’ve got to stop this, mate,” he said. “She’ll be back before you know it.”

Ron closed the door to his room and came into the hall as well. He slumped down against the wall and looked at Harry with a gloomy face. “It’s not that.”

Harry sat down across Ron with his back to the other wall. “Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Ron said imprudently. “Just…leave it be.”

“Well clearly there has to be something wrong if you stay up this late. I mean, it’s not like this is Hogwarts where you stay up late just to rebel against authority.”

“Come on, Harry.” Ron ran his hand through his hair. “Just leave it.”

“Fine,” Harry said callously. He stood up and walked towards his door and just as he reached for the handle, he heard Ron’s voice.

“It’s this.”

Harry turned and saw Ron holding a tiny blue box that he had produced from his pocket. His head hung low, as if he was defeated as he handed it to Harry.

“I was going to ask her to marry me,” Ron said as Harry opened the box and saw a beautiful solitaire ring with a lone diamond in the centre.

“Ron…” Harry gaped. “I can’t…I can’t believe this.”

Ron shrugged. “It was supposed to be a surprise… I’ve been carrying it around in my pocket for two months now.”

“Two months?” Harry said with surprise. “When were you planning on giving this to her?”

“I don’t actually know,” Ron said. “I was sort of hoping the moment would just…come up. You know? Like those cheesy muggle movies that Hermione made us watch once?”

“You mean like romantic stuff?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Ron said. “I mean, I know she says she doesn’t care about that sappy stuff but I know she does.”

“She’ll be back soon,” Harry said, noting the dejection in Ron’s voice. “You know, in Azkaban the one who lose their minds first are the guys that keep staring at the clock.”

“What do you mean?”

“They keep looking at the time and thinking about how long they’ve been in there and how long they’ll be and they never stop thinking about it.”

“So you’re saying that I’ll lose my mind if I keep thinking about this?” Ron asked.

Harry smiled and tossed the ring back to Ron. “I think you’ve already lost your mind with all this romantic stuff. Where’s the insensitive, shallow Ron that I knew?” he laughed.

Ron managed to produce a slight smile. Meanwhile, in Bill’s room, Victoire began to stir and started to cry, indicating that it was time for both Harry and Ron to go back to bed.

They both got up and Harry turned towards his room. “Goodnight, mate.”

“Yeah, night.”

---

Hermione sat in the dining hall as Eli served her eggs with buttered toast. The morning at Malfoy Manor had been especially quiet without the presence of Draco at breakfast.

“I’ll be out with some orange juice in a moment,” Eli said, as he went towards the kitchen. Hermione sat idly at the table and prodded the perfectly round, yellow yolk with her fork. Her appetite hadn’t quite returned after last night’s events but she gladly chewed on the toast to keep her mouth moving and her stomach satisfied.

Eli returned with a jar of orange liquid floating behind him and as he began clearing up some of the plates, the jar bobbled past Hermione and poured some juice into her glass.

“Thank you,” she said amidst chewing the toast.

“Will there be anything else?” Eli offered.

“Not that’s okay,” Hermione said quickly. “Thank you very much for the lovely breakfast.”

“You’re welcome,” Eli said bowing graciously and made his way towards the door.

“Eli wait!” Hermione said loudly and stood up from her seat, walking over to the old man. Something about him reminded her so much about Dumbledore that she felt herself back at Hogwarts now, more than ever.

“I’m sorry about the way I acted last night,” she said slowly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

Eli smiled graciously. “No harm done, Ms. Granger,” Eli said. “The fault was mine as it is. I know what a curious person you are and it pains me not to be able to satisfy that curiosity.”

Hermione laughed softly. “I think you’re the first person who has thought of my curiosity as a good thing.”

“It is, my dear,” Eli said warmly. “If we do not question, we do not know.”

“In all my…curiosity,” Hermione began. “I never thanked you for saving my life.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I may not remember everything that happened down there, but I remember you coming to my help and the water drops and that white light…” Hermione strained her memory to remember more but that’s all it would produce for her.

Eli opened his mouth to respond when the doors to the dining hall creaked open and Malfoy walked in lazily wearing blue satin pyjamas. His hair was ruffled as though he had just woken up and his eyes blinked lazily past Hermione and looked at Eli.

“Good morning, Master Malfoy,” Eli said.

“Morning, morning…” Malfoy repeated hastily. “Breakfast, please.”

“Yes sir,” Eli replied and followed Malfoy to seat him at the table. “What would you like?”

“I don’t know…” Malfoy said, pondering his meal choices.

“May I suggest some wheat toast with jam?” Eli offered.

“No…no…” Malfoy said, waving his hand dismissively. “I want some milk tarts.”

Eli bowed and turned towards the kitchen as Hermione scoffed loudly. “Problem, Granger?” Malfoy snapped.

“No,” Hermione said shortly.

“Then there’s no reason for you to be here. Thanks for coming,” Malfoy replied coldly.

“Why are you such a child?” Hermione retorted.

“Can I not even eat breakfast in peace anymore?”

“No.” Hermione said sharply as she roughly pulled out a chair and sat opposite Draco. “No, you can’t.”

“Who’s being the child now?” Malfoy said angrily.

Hermione began to get even angrier. Last night, she had suffered a pretty traumatic event in Malfoy’s house and he didn’t even seem to care. Did he even know what happened to her? She had burn marks on her legs and arms (both covered by her long pyjamas) while he was perfectly pretty with his porcelain skin and blonde hair.

A plate of milk tarts bobbled its way over to Malfoy and placed itself gingerly in front of him. He dove into them and began biting one off like an animal, chewing quickly.

“Eli!” Hermione called out. Eli apparated beside her quickly while Malfoy looked up.

“Can you please deliver this to the owlery?” she asked, giving him the reply she had written to Ginny.

“Certainly,” Eli said, taking the letter and placing it inside his pocket.

“As soon as possible, please,” Hermione urged. “Thank you.”

Eli disapparated to the Owlery while Malfoy cocked his eyebrow. “You can’t order him around like that,” he said. “He’s my butler, not yours.”

“Would you rather me go find the Owlery for myself?” Hermione snapped back.

“Oh heavens, no…” Malfoy replied. “We all know what happens when you try to go around this castle by yourself.”

“So you do know!” Hermione said angrily, throwing her chair aside and standing up.

“Know what?” Malfoy said casually.

“You’re an ass…” Hermione bellowed. “I could have died last night and you don’t even have the courtesy to find out what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Malfoy said, chewing his milk tarts carelessly. “You’re fine.”

“Clearly, something happened,” Hermione said loudly. “Or these would not be here!” Hermione rolled up her sleeves and showed Malfoy the burns on her arms that had turned her skin red and black. “And these wouldn’t be here!” She rolled up her pants and should him the burns on her legs. “So clearly, something happened.”

Malfoy swallowed slightly and there was a momentary flash in his eyes as he saw the degree of burns on Hermione. He quickly composed himself and smirked. “You’re not dead, are you?”

“Why are you taking this so lightly?” Hermione bellowed. “There’s something down in your dungeons that was adamant to kill me last night! I know you don’t like me but you’re supposed to be protecting me, aren’t you?”

“I thought you said you don’t need any protection?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“The point is that something happened in your bloody dungeon and not only did you not try to find me, but you didn’t even bother checking up on me? How can you rely on Eli to save me and to make sure I don’t die? Don’t you have some responsibility here?”

Malfoy was taken aback but also, slightly relieved. She thought Eli saved her which means that he would be spared all the questioning she was bound to do. He cringed suddenly, realizing that the burn on his chest was beginning to throb.

“Is that all?” Malfoy asked with difficulty.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you done talking? If you aren’t, I’ll be having my tarts in my room.”

Hermione sighed loudly and stormed out of the dining hall, slamming the door behind her. As she left, Malfoy lifted his shirt and saw the burnt flesh on his chest swollen. He reached for a cold glass of ice water on the table and placed it against his chest, to cool the burning sensation.
---

Hermione stormed into her room and drew out a thin piece of long parchment from one of the drawers.

Professor McGonagall, she began writing.

Recently, I’ve come upon a sort of interesting and unique creature that I do not remember encountering in books that I’ve read. I was rather hoping you could shed some light on the situation, if at all possible.

It was a sort of ghost but not really one like those that walk around Hogwarts. It was a woman with a really menacing laugh, sort of like a banshee. She also has the power to become invisible, and or transform into some sort of a shadowy figure. The one thing that really struck me is that she seemed to have a very menacing intent – she intends to hurt, not to scare.

She resides in the dungeons and makes mist and a sort of greenish fog appear everywhere and her method of injuring is fire. She can burn through skin very easily.

I know that my description is rather vague but any sort of help in the matter would be greatly appreciated.

Regards
Hermione Granger

Hermione reread her letter and hated the way she sounded – like an incoherent child. She sighed and stuffed the parchment hastily into an envelope. She didn’t have time to sound smart and collective anymore. She opened her door to head out towards the Owlery, only to remember that she didn’t know where it was.

“Eli!” she called out and the tiny man appeared in front of her.

“Ms. Granger,” he said politely.

“Did you send the letter I gave you an hour ago?” she asked.

Eli toggled his memory back and shook his head. “Not yet,” he said. “It’s still here.” He tapped his pocket and smiled.

“Do you mind telling me where the Owlery is?” Hermione asked.

“Well, if you wait a few minutes, I can take your letter there…”

“No, no…it’s not that.” Hermione said quickly. “I have another letter to send too and I guess I might as well learn where the owls are. I just feel really bad for disturbing you.”

“Not all, my dear,” Eli said kindly. “I assume by now you know how to get to dining hall?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes.”

“Well, you head north from the dining room and when you reach the end of the corridor, there’s a stairwell leading upwards. That will take you straight to the owls.”

“Thank you,” Hermione beamed, appreciating the fact that Eli didn’t prevent her from exploring the manor like Malfoy. He handed Hermione her first letter and she went off to the Owlery.
---

“You didn’t tell me her burns were that bad,” Malfoy said shortly as Eli entered his room. Eli closed the door softly behind him and saw the fear in Malfoy’s eyes.

“They got worse overnight,” Eli replied. “They had seared very thinly into the skin when I saw them last night but it seems the burns sunk deeper today.”

“That’s how her magic works,” Draco sighed. He was sitting on the floor, lying against his bed. The pain from his chest disabled him greatly.

“What kind of magic is this?” Eli asked. “I have yet to encounter this kind of thing…and I assure you Master Malfoy, I have encountered almost all kinds of magic.”

“It’s a very dark kind of magic,” Draco replied, placing his arm lightly on his chest. “No, no it’s alright,” he added, as Eli went over to help him.

“Adria is not your average house ghost, I mean…she’s not really a ghost to begin with. But that’s not important…” Draco said, changing the subject. “What’s more important is that no one finds out about what happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if Potter or Weasley get wind of this, they’ll be here in a flash and that’s the last thing I need. Besides, Granger thinks you saved her.”

“Yes, she thanked me this morning.”

“Either way, it is important for you to understand that no one should find out about this. The moment they hear she got injured, they’ll think I did something to her and aurors will be swarming around the manor in a flash.”

“Yes, sir,” Eli said obediently. Draco shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position but in his state, comfort was a luxury. He took a deep breath and pressed his fingers against the flesh wound which was still throbbing from the pain.

“Allow me,” Eli said and flicked his wand. A tray of moist towels appeared with a bottle that was labelled, ‘A Sure Cure for burns’.

“It won’t work Eli,” Draco said. “Adria’s burns aren’t those normal kinds you get from dragons and stuff. When she’s angry, not even the worst of things can stop her.”

“What exactly is she?”

“I don’t really know myself,” Draco sighed. “When I first tried to remove her from the mansion she seared right through the muscle in my right arm.”

“I’m sure the Ministry would now how to deal with this.”

“Well I suppose they would know a bit more than me but I’d rather not. This is her home, whether or not she realizes it and whether or not I like it.”

“But she’s dange-”

“I know,” Draco said, looking at his chest. “I know she’s dangerous but what happened to her was my fault. I have to right this.”

[Julia Darline Evans]

Adria on siis kummitus ?
Interesting, really.

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Mm, edasi. Ron kavatseb abielu ettepaneku teha ? huvitav...

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter 9 : The North Tower

Minerva McGonagall was fairly tired nowadays. Ever since her retirement from Hogwarts, she found herself bored to tears with nothing to do except count the seconds as they passed by. She got the occasional owls from her former students and more from her colleagues but she wanted to go back to the thrill she got from teaching, from moulding new minds and instilling some of her wisdom into new students.

She heard a small tap at the window.

Immediately, her head turned towards the window where she saw a tiny barn owl fluttering its wings excitedly to enter. McGonagall reached for the windows ledge and released it, letting the bird in.

“Hello there,” she said gently as the owl lay down a piece of rolled parchment in her palm. McGonagall unravelled the sheet as the owl dipped its beak into a nearby glass of water.

Hogwarts Alumni Dinner

Dear Professor McGonagall,You are cordially invited to Hogwarts annual alumni dinner, celebrating the reunion of many of Hogwarts former students who still return to their second home in order to reminisce of the wonderful memories they formed there.
As a former professor and teacher to these very students, it would be with great pleasure that we invite you and we hope that you will honour us with your presence there, three weeks from Saturday.
Yours truly,
Pomona Sprout
Headmistress of Hogwarts

PS: You’d better be there Minerva, I’m rather hoping this will convince you to get out of retirement and get back to teaching.

McGonagall smiled and placed the letter on top of her old wooden desk. As she opened her window to let the owl leave, a second one soared in. This owl was much bigger and a lot more prompt. It didn’t ruffle its feathers or dally around for some water. All it did was place its letter on the desk and spread its majestic wings, preparing itself to fly out into the evening sun.

McGonagall looked at the envelope and saw the name of the sender: Hermione Granger. She smiled as she recognized the name of her brightest student, only her smile faltered slightly as she saw who the letter was addressed to. Ron Weasley?

“This must be a mistake,” McGonagall wondered aloud. She opened the letter and read the contents within.

Ron,
Don’t be upset, I’ll be home in a flash. You stay good and remember, I will always love you.
Love
Hermione

McGonagall blushed slightly realizing that it was not meant for her eyes. She looked around but the owl that had delivered the message had already left.
---
Hundreds of miles away, Ron Weasley opened a letter delivered from Hermione but was addressed to Professor McGonagall.

His eyes scanned the letter as the words jumped out at him and stifled his breath. His eyes widened at the comprehension of what he was reading and before he got to the last word, he jammed the letter in his pocket and grabbed a small blue knapsack beside the foot of his bed. Within three minutes, he had filled his bag with a set of robes, and his first year’s potions set.

Hearing the commotion upstairs, Harry entered Ron’s room with a look of concern on his face. “Ron… what’s going on?”

Ron didn’t reply but instead opened a huge trunk under his bed and retrieved a stone basin. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked. “Ron, seriously, what happened?”

“I’m going,” Ron replied shortly.

“Where?”

“Malfoy Manor.”

---

Ginny sat on the living room couch with a copy of Witch Weekly in her lap which had a picture of a rather scantily clad Viktor Krum smiling at her. Ginny pondered how Harry would look in that pose and began to smile.

Her humorous images of Harry were interrupted by the sound of a trunk being dragged down the stairs. Ron came into view a few seconds later with his wooden trunk and a large stone basin in his other hand. Harry tailed him with a worried expression on his face.

“…a million things that can happen on the way there!” Harry was saying. “Do you even know the way there?”

Ginny quickly stuffed the magazine away and stood up. “What’s wrong?”

“Ron wants to go to Malfoy Manor,” Harry said flatly.

“Is he crazy?” Ginny said as her jaw dropped.

“Hello!” Ron waved. “I’m right here!”

“Are you out of your bloody mind, Ron?” Ginny bellowed.

“Yes, I am.”

Ron picked up the stone basin and placed it on top of the wooden trunk. He grabbed his wand and placed it against his temple and gently dragged out a silver thread from his head.

“What are you doing with the penseive?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Ron said as he took the thread and placed it in the huge stone basin. Immediately the basin began to shine a light and the head of Draco Malfoy appeared.

“Look, Granger,” the Malfoy head said. “The train to the outer city leaves in exactly 44 minutes. It will take us at least twenty minutes to get to Diagon Alley where we will have to take the fireplace to the station which will take about ten minutes to get to the train. That gives you the next 14 minutes to pack your things and leave with me.”

“How did you get that memory?” Ginny asked. “You were with Harry getting Hermione’s trunk when Malfoy said that.”

“I heard him from upstairs, but I couldn’t catch the rest of the sentence. It doesn’t matter,” Ron said. “I know how to get there.”

“You’re crazy!” Ginny cried. “Why, all of a sudden, do you want to get to the Manor?”

“Look at this,” Ron said, shoving the letter into Ginny’s hands.

Ginny read the letter, and her eyes widened in shock. “Is Hermione alright?”

“Wait, what letter is this?” Harry asked, as he read over Ginny’s shoulder.

“She’s apparently been burnt by this ghost… Malfoy will pay with his life!” Ron barked.

“Wait, now,” Harry said. “How do you know she’s been attacked? Maybe she’s just asking?”

“Harry, look at the way she describes the creature and the way she talks about it! Clearly she got a first hand experience.”

“So what are you going to go there for?” Harry asked. “To be her knight in shining armour?”

“Maybe,” Ron said coldly and walked towards the door.

“I know you care about Hermione,” Ginny started. “But you have to understand, there’s nothing you can do.”

“I can save her, I can bring her back,” Ron shot back.

“Ron, she’s a big girl,” Harry said. “She doesn’t need your protection, she doesn’t need mine.”

“If she thinks that she needs Malfoy’s protection, she needs mine,” Ron retorted.

“Then I’m going with you,” Harry said.

“What?” Both Ginny and Ron said in unison.

“Well Hermione’s my friend too and I may not love her like you do, but I do love her as a friend and if she needs help, I’ll go too.”

“Well you’re not leaving me here,” Ginny said adamantly. “We’ll all go. But we’ll go tomorrow morning.”

“What’re you talking about?” Ron asked.

“Ron, it’s almost eleven at night. I mean, I know you want this whole dramatic thing to play out but we can’t sneak out to the middle of nowhere in the middle of night.”

Ron groaned and Harry placed his arm on his shoulder. “Take it or leave it,” he said. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Right,” Ron said dejectedly and walked back upstairs.

---

“This is the main entrance to the Manor,” Draco said lazily pointing at a huge 8 feet tall door. The door was made of chestnut coloured oak and above it, a dark black snake was carved into the wall with the words “Draco Dormiens” under it. Slight frost was beginning to kiss the windows of the chilly manor as the winter neared.

Hermione saw the magnificent entrance to Malfoy Manor and couldn’t help but feel impressed by the beauty and lavishness of it..

“If Lestrange comes at you, do not flee from this exit,” Draco said with a careless tone. “Beyond this door, there’s about a mile of ground to cover before the main gates and trust me, the plants are not friendly.”

“Thanks,” Hermione replied coldly. “I’m glad you care.”

“I’m serious, Granger,” Malfoy said, smirking slightly. Hermione assumed he was envisioning her being eaten by a ten foot apple tree.

“Let’s keep going,” Draco continued and walked down the left hallway that led to a passageway full of doors. The doors were of different sizes and shapes but all were a deep brown colour that matched well with the deep beige walls.

“What are all these doors for?” Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. “Stuff,” he said casually. “Most of them are just empty so don’t bother. The only thing you need to worry about is this,” he added as they approached a giant painting mounted on the wall.

The frame was a copper colour and was intricately carved with floral designs. There was no actual painting inside the frame but Hermione was awestruck by the huge burn on the middle of the canvas.

“Granger, over here,” Draco said, ushering irritably towards a small passageway on the other side of the hallway.

“What happened to this painting?” Hermione asked as she ran her fingers along the ripped canvas.

Draco’s face twitched slightly at the sight of Hermione’s fingers against the canvas. Hermione noticed that and immediately retracted her hand as he rolled his eyes. “It’s burnt, can’t you see that?”

“Yes, I can,” Hermione replied through gritted teeth. “I mean, why is it burnt?”

“Why does it matter?”

“It’s just that… well all the other paintings with your ancestors and whatnot look so regal and lavish and this burnt painting…where’s the person in this portrait?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Draco said quietly. “She’s not coming back.”

Hermione recoiled slightly at the look of anguish in Malfoy’s eyes. He too, realized the bitterness in his voice and immediately pulled himself together. “Merlin Granger, by now I could have travelled three times around the castle on a unicycle, will you please hurry!”

Hermione threw Draco a nasty look and followed him to a small statue of a snake coiled around the Slytherin emblem. “Classy,” Hermione remarked sarcastically.

Draco ignored her and reached for the snake’s fang which he tugged slightly. He then drew out his wand and touched its tip to that very fang and said, “Venio!”

The fang did not move but instead, a huge gurgling sound began to resonate beneath the ground and a square shaped passageway appeared on the floor as the floor began to recede. Hermione gaped in amazement, “You sure are a paranoid lot,” she remarked. “There’s a secret passageway everywhere!”

“Very clever, Granger, you’re a true comedian,” Malfoy replied sarcastically. “This leads right down to a passageway between this floor and the dungeons, so you’re sort of travelling mid-ground level.”

Hermione nodded absentmindedly. “It leads all the way to the other end of the castle and into the back entrance at the foot of the South Tower.”

“Right,” Hermione said, not really paying attention. All her attention was focused on that burnt painting across the hall. Her eyes were fixated upon the sears against the canvas and her mind was drawn back to the burns on her arms.

Malfoy followed Hermione’s eyes to the canvas and he became concerned. Something about her expression worried him and he instantly knew what it was – she was putting pieces together. While her eyes were glued onto the painting, her right arm pressed against the burns on her left arm and Draco knew. He knew that it would only be a matter of time before she figured it out.

“Master Malfoy!” The tension in the room was broken as Eli apparated in between Hermione and Draco. Hermione turned to look at the frail old man whose expression was intensely hard and worried.

“We have a situation in the North Tower, sir,” Eli whispered. And though he tried to be subtle, Hermione could clearly hear the shaky tone of his voice.

“What’re you talking about?” Malfoy asked. Eli gestured very slightly at Hermione, indicating that he couldn’t say anything in her presence. Malfoy immediately understood and looked at Hermione.

“I need to deal with this,” he said tersely. “Stay here.”

“I won’t!” Hermione said.

“Why the hell not?”

“I want to see this! It’s the ghost, isn’t it? That woman who burnt me?” Hermione asked.

Draco knew that it was only a matter of time before she pieced everything together. “Granger, stay the bloody hell away. It’s for your own good!”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t!” Draco spat. “But this is my bloody house and you will do whatever the bloody hell I say!”

“I won’t,” Hermione said stubbornly. Eli looked concerned as he stood between the two, each as aggressive and stubborn as the other.

“Fine, have it your way then,” Draco said as he drew out his wand. “Petrificus Totalus!”

Hermione shriek was never completed as she froze midway, completely paralyzed. Her body fell to the ground and the last thing her immobile eyes could see was Draco’s blonde hair as he apparated towards the North Tower.

---

What was happening in the North Tower, Hermione did not know. All her paralyzed body could hear was the faint sound of the howling wind outside and the patter of rain against the window. The barely audible noises of the ghosts that roamed the mansion and the chatty Malfoys in the portraits were the only source of movement for Hermione as she lay on the floor, unable to move.

She occasionally thought she heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards her but after awhile, she dismissed them as delusions on her part. Her head pressed hard against the floors as her own weight held her down; the only good thing was that instead of cold stone, this floor was lush carpet that caressed Hermione’s head instead of bruising it.

As she lay paralyzed on the floor, one thing was for sure: Draco had gone to “deal” with the very same creature that had attacked her. When he had looked at her, instead of his arrogance there had been a severe and piercing look of fear in his eyes but more than that, vulnerability. Hermione didn’t know what it meant or why it was there but there was definitely more than Draco claimed.

Her wandering mind began to hear footsteps again and Hermione, once again, tried to convince herself that it was no one. But it actually was. The tiny patter of a house elf’s feet began to get closer to her and Hermione knew that if she could move, she would have heaved a huge sigh of relief.

“Miss!” the little elf squealed as it saw Hermione on the floor. She immediately recognized the elf as the one who had healed her when she got burnt.

“Oh, you is hurt!” the elf squeaked. Hermione tried to open her mouth and tell the elf to undo the spell but she couldn’t move. Her limbs were locked tight and frustration was beginning to build up in her.

Immediately, however, the elf lifted up its scarred fingers and placed it against Hermione’s temple. A faded green light appeared and Hermione felt her arms and legs loosen like string, and soon after her neck and head began to move as well.

She lay on the floor for a few seconds to recuperate from the thirty minutes that she’d spent lying there. “You is okay?”

Hermione nodded and lifted her head slightly to sit up on her arms. “How did you know to undo the spell on me?” she asked.

“Master Eli was sending me to help you, Miss,” the elf replied politely. Hermione smiled as the elf held out his hand to help Hermione up off the floor. As she got halfway up, a piercing scream rang through the walls of the deserted Manor.

The elf squeaked and covered his mouth with his hands while Hermione fell against the wall in shock. Her heart skipped a beat as the echo of the scream still resounded off the old walls of the mansion.

“What was that?” Hermione cried, placing her fingers against her ears to shield the sound of the echo.

The little elf squeaked in fear and ran towards the other side of the passageway. Hermione turned around and looked into the distance at the spot where Draco had apparated; she closed her eyes, and disappeared to the North Tower.

---

Draco dodged a burst of emerald flames as they shot past his ear. The darkness of the North Tower was broken by the momentary spurts of light from Draco’s wand and the devilish green from the demonic flames Adria was attacking with. Her shadowy figure mixed with the dark figures in the Tower and hid her from Draco’s sharp and perceptive eyes. Beads of sweat formed on his pale forehead that had been tainted with blood as a huge gash on his temple appeared when he fell hard against the wall.

Draco pulled himself up with great effort, placing his right hand over his chest to prevent the pain in his chest from his earlier burn. His wand was gripped tightly in his hand and he managed to duck right in time, avoiding another burst of flames followed by a maniacal laughter.

“Come and play!” she cried in her high pitched voice.

Eli, though wise in his years, was far less experienced in hand to hand combat, especially against something that he had never encountered before. He ducked behind the table and shot some of the most complicated protection charms he knew towards Draco as Adria neared him.

Malfoy ducked as another flame came at him and went right past his left ear. “Eli, stay out of the way!” Malfoy yelled.

Eli began to mouth another protection charm at Malfoy who managed to secure himself temporarily against a corner and dodge the flames that were so eerily followed by the high pitched laughter.

Draco turned the corner and aimed his wand at the dark shadow. “Sopei-”

Adria’s scream was followed by a stream of fire that hit Draco square in the chest. It seemed as though time had frozen as Draco felt the flames engulf him and sear right through into his heart - gnawing at the centre of the fragile organ. He shut his eyes and fell against the floor, hitting his head against the hard ground. His cry rang throughout the castle – it resounded so far that the very foundations of the ground began to tremble.

Malfoy placed his hand against the ground, the other on his chest and tried to push himself up. “Eli stay out of the way!” he cried as Eli shot a bright yellow flame at Adria which hit the dark shadow but was only absorbed in the blackness.

Draco pushed against the ground again, trying harder than ever to pick himself up but he couldn’t. He felt as though his chest had been twisted and deformed and that all the courage in the world couldn’t help him get up off the floor. His mind was feeling faint and he saw drops of blood spatter onto his shoulder – his head was bleeding.

He began to feel light-headed; No!, he said to himself. I can’t die… As he blinked a few times to restore his consciousness, a dark haired girl appeared at the Tower and Draco’s jaw fell to the floor.

“Granger! Get out!” he yelled.

Hermione’s terrified face looked at Draco, lying helplessly on the floor and Eli dodging the flames shot at him. Hermione took out her wand and aimed at the dark shadow and shot a jet of red light at it. As Draco expected, the shadow absorbed the light and the high pitched laughter resumed.

The flames began to circle Hermione and the terror on her face was illuminated. “Protego!” she yelled, pointing the wand at herself but nothing happened.

“Malfoy, what the hell is wrong with this ghost?” she cried.

Eli saw her and raised his wand, muttering his protection charms at her as a green flame burned through her arm. The charm didn’t work.

“The flames have circled her!” Eli yelled to Malfoy. “There’s no way to stop her, Master Malfoy!”

“I told you to stay the bloody hell away, Granger!” Malfoy yelled.

“It’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” Hermione shot back.

Malfoy’s head began to feel light and he knew that in a few moments, he would be unconscious and Hermione would be dead. Stupid mudblood, she doesn’t know how to defend herself against Adria…

Draco knew that no matter what kind of dark magic Hermione had fought before, the only way to hold off Adria was with dark magic itself, something Hermione knew nothing of – only he knew and only he could do it.

And then it hit him.

He grabbed his wand and pointed it straight at Hermione, “IMPERIO!” he shouted.

“Malfoy! W-?!” Hermione didn’t finish her sentence. Draco had managed to take control of her and used his wand to make her point her wand at the dark shadow looming around her.

“Hold it steady, Granger,” he said slowly.

Hermione robotically held her wand in front of her, steadily. “Now,” Draco continued. “When I say ‘go’, I want you to yell at the top of your voice, “Sopeinsta Grecgo”.”

The flames neared Hermione and the maniacal laughter began again. “Go!” Draco shouted.

Hermione raised her voice and yelled, “Sopeinsta Grecgo!”

A small white light began to shine at the tip of the wand but nothing happened. “Louder!” Malfoy yelled. “Say it like you mean it!”

“Sopeinsta Grecgo!” she cried.

A huge white light shot out of her wand and pierced the dark shadow. For a fleeting second, a thin figure emerged from the shadow- a woman. Still engulfed in flames, she fell to the floor and lay there momentarily. Draco turned towards the figure, his fuzzy vision trying to make out the details of the scene before him, but she disappeared as fast as she had appeared and the dark shadows consumed her again.

The shadows began to dissipate and soon, the darkness fled through an escape in the stairwell and nothing was left in the North Tower other than silence. The pure deafening silence that seemed almost worst than the attacks because the silence is always followed by questions – questions that Draco could not answer or rather, didn’t want to.

Hermione released her wand and as it fell to the floor, Draco released her from his imperius curse. The curse had drained the last bit of energy in him and he fell hard against the ground – closing his eyes and lying in the pool of blood.

---

A cold wind blew through the burrow and encircled Harry and Ginny as they were sleeping. Ginny shuddered slightly and turned around to face Harry whose face was buried in his pillow, stifling the slight snores.

“Harry,” she said lazily, shaking him roughly. “Wake up.”

Harry grunted deeply and turned to face Ginny, half asleep. He opened his eyes for a fraction of a second and then closed them again, falling back into his deep sleep.

“Harry,” Ginny muttered, amidst a yawn.

“What?” Harry grumbled. “What is it?”

“Go get a blanket.”

“Why?”

Another cold wind blew through the open window in the Burrow and sent shivers down Harry’s bare back. “That’s why,” Ginny said.

“Meh,” Harry grumbled and shifted into a more comfortable position. “Later.”

“No, come on…”

Harry sat himself up on his arms and rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Fine,” he groaned. He slipped the sheet off of him and turned towards Ginny who seemed to have fallen back to sleep.

He got up and fumbled for his glasses in the darkness, placing his feet on the cold floor. Then, after closing the window, he went out into the lit passageway and tried to remember where the blankets were kept.

“Ron?” Harry whispered, opening his friend’s door. “Ron, can we borrow a blanket?”

Ron didn’t reply. “Ron,” Harry whispered again. Ron was a well-known deep sleeper and so clearly, he wouldn’t hear Harry.

Harry scratched his head and yawned as he walked over to Ron’s bed to wake him. He placed his hand on Ron and began to shake him slightly. “Get up,” he said.

But instead of Ron, Harry felt a huge pile of blankets beneath his palm. He ruffled through them and saw that there as no one on the bed. He was wide awake now and began to search around the room.

“This isn’t funny, Ron,” he said tiredly. “Seriously, mate.”

There was no reply.

He went back to the Ron’s bed and saw a ripped piece of paper lying on one of the sheets. It was in Ron’s handwriting and seemed to have been written in a hurry.

I have to go by myself -Ron

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Bloody hell.

[Julia Darline Evans]

Bloody hell on neil vist Traditional vanne vms ?

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter 10 : Distractions

Draco’s eyes flickered for a second and a dark blurry world emerged in front of him. In this dark world, every object and person was a mingled hybrid of deformed shapes and undistinguishable identities. There were sounds too. The faint buzz that could be heard from these hybrids clouded his ears until he closed his eyes again.

Then he felt it.

There was a gentle feeling in his hand… was it his left hand? Or wait… no it was his right. The warm sensation began to bring its way up his arm towards his shoulders. Draco inhaled deeply and took in this soft touch. A soft humming began and caressed his ears, in contrast to the intolerable buzzing earlier. The feeling was beginning to sink into him when it suddenly stopped –followed by a high pitched scream.

Draco’s eyes flew open and searched around for the mysterious voice. In his haste, he sat up so fast that his insides began to collapse on him – he couldn’t sit up. He fell back down and realized that he was lying on a bed; he was lying on a soft, cushioned thick bed with a huge and regal frame and a headboard draped in green silk. He was in his own bed.

He placed his hand on his chest and felt the swollen, still molten flesh. He began to pant as he tried once again to sit up – this time, with extreme pain, he managed to sit himself up at a forty-five degree angle.

“Eli!” he shouted. He tried to remember the last thing he did before he ended up here but his memory failed him. His head was pressing hard down on him and his chest was swollen and burnt – he knew he had been fighting Adria. But what had happened? Had he lost?

“Master Malfoy,” Eli said, heaving a sigh of relief. “You’re alright.”

“What happened?”

“It was her,” Eli said somberly. “It was Adria.”

“I…I can’t remember…” Draco stammered. “I can’t remember anything.”

“The blow to your head was quite hard,” Eli said gently. “Please, just lie down. It took the elves hours to stop the bleeding.”

Draco’s hand immediately flew to his head where he felt a layer of thick gauss and bandages. “How long was I out for?”

“It’s been two days.”

Draco tried to sit up again. “Two days?”

Eli nodded grimly. “55 hours to be exact.”

“Did anyone come by? Did anyone ask…?” Draco asked.

Eli looked at him with a curious expression. “No.”

He saw relief sweep over the face that was once etched with lines of worry but for a second – albeit a fraction of a second- he had seen a little boy’s sadness that no one had asked about how he was doing, that nobody cared if he was alive or dead.

“No one knew what happened,” Eli added and smiled gently. “But Ms. Granger…”

Draco’s memory swept back to a blurry scene where a brown haired girl was holding up her wand and yelling, in a petrified voice. “Granger!” Draco yelped. “She…she was there…”

“Yes, sir,” Eli replied. “She hasn’t been harmed though.”

Draco’s expression of surprise and worry didn’t change. “Does she remember anything?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so. She’s been asking…questions.”

“Well we’re not answering them,” Draco shot back as he placed his hand gingerly over his burnt flesh and sat up in his bed. He had mustered enough strength to attempt to walk now. He quickly grabbed a shirt that was lying by his bedside and put it on to cover the fleshy wound.

“Master Malfoy,” Eli began again as Malfoy started to walk. “She’s beginning to put it all together…”

Draco stopped in his tracks and turned around. “Then we stop her.”

Eli now had a concerned look on his face. “She’s already made a connection between the portrait and Adria – it’s only a matter of time before she finds out about Nat-”

“That’s enough!” Draco bellowed. “That is enough!” His face was red with trepidation and Eli had the feeling that his heart hurt more than his wounds.

“This discussion is over,” Malfoy said. His strength was weakening. He placed his hand on one of his many cushioned chairs for support and then turned towards Eli. “You have to keep her distracted – away from all of this.”

“What kind of distraction were you thinking of?”

“The kind that would keep her out of my hair. Something that would keep her satisfied and busy.”

“Well sir, I can just keep a sharper watch on her…”

“No,” Draco replied. “That’ll only make her more suspicious… besides, I’m going to be gone tonight and I need to know she won’t go poking her big nose around the manor.”

“Might I suggest a…hobby?” Eli said, slightly bemused.

“No, no…” Malfoy said, shrugging him off. “She’s not a child…” He then paused as a knowing expression began to form on his face. “But…she is a woman.”

“Yes, sir…she is,” Eli said awkwardly.

“And despite her brains and her boldness, all any woman ever wants is someone to be with.” A small smile curved at the edge of his lip as he turned to Eli and said, “I want you to find Ron Weasley and bring him here.”
---

Hermione sat in her room restlessly scanning the pages of the Daily Prophet. There was no news of Lestrange; there hadn’t been any for days. She wondered if Skeid had blown things out of proportion as her mind trailed back to that fateful day when she had learnt of her parents’ deaths. Maybe he had come to the wrong conclusion, maybe he had tallied the evidence incorrectly or illogically, or maybe he had underestimated the motives of Lestrange; either way, he and his actions were completely away from the public eye. There were no more high profiled muggle killings, no more break-ins and certainly, no more (not that there ever had been) threats to Hermione’s life.

Hermione’s once luscious and chocolate brown curly hair had become frail and straw-like – as it often did when she was in an uncomfortable or stressful situation for a long time. Her eyes had sunk even lower into her face due to her lack of sleep. All she could think about what the ghost (or whatever it was) and the painting in the hall.

Her pent up rage began to boil once again as her thoughts trailed onto Malfoy. That stupid prick was hiding something and he refused to even acknowledge that Hermione had some insight into his secret. That momentary sympathy and pity she had felt for Malfoy when she saw him dueling for his life in the tower had now subsided. He had used an Unforgivable Curse on her… did he think she was that much of an amateur that she couldn’t perform a simple spell? Did he really think she was so unskilled that he had to put her under the Imperius curse so that she could perform that spell correctly?

It had been two days. Once the darkness in the tower had cleared up, she had been released from the curse and she saw Malfoy fall unconscious onto the floor. Eli had rushed over to Malfoy and produced a thick piece of cloth which he pressed against his head to stop the bleeding. Healers had periodically arrived at the Mansion and spent hours in Malfoy’s room; the only conversation Hermione had managed to hear was a young Healer who was explaining to Eli that: “It will take about 24 hours now but the flesh should begin to heal, though the scars themselves will never truly disappear.” She had no idea what he had meant by that but she assumed that the Healer was referring to Malfoy’s head injury.

Hermione’s thoughts were interrupted by some voices outside, across the hall. She stood up and slowly made her way towards the door, with her ears sharply trying to decipher the words.

“…two bowls of cereal and some more milk tarts…” the voice said. Hermione rolled her eyes as she flung her door open and glared at Malfoy as he walked down the hall. He turned at the sound of the opening door and causally smirked, “Hello, Granger.”

“Still thinking of eating?” she snapped.

“Well yes, I’m a little hungry.”

Hermione scoffed and looked at Eli, who was beside Draco with a usual worrisome expression on his face. “Can you excuse us a minute?” Malfoy asked Eli.

Eli nodded and bowed his head, quickly disapparating on the spot. “I have the feeling there’s something you want to say to me, Granger,” Malfoy said snidely.

He walked over very nonchalantly and stood a mere two feet away from Hermione with his infamous smile spread across his face. “What would you like to say?” he asked her.

“You used an Unforgivable curse on me,” Hermione said, each breath of hers was drenched in anger. “You’re an auror and you used an illegal curse on me.”

“I saved you,” Draco corrected. His hands were casually folded across his chest while Hermione’s were by her side as she resisted the urge to punch him in the face.

“No, you used me.”

Draco laughed. “Yes, I used you to save you.”

“You’re an auror, a representative of the Ministry of Magic and-”

“Don’t try to be righteous and abide by the rule book,” Malfoy snapped. “Lest we forget you and the rest of the Potter Posse scrambling about the school doing many illegal things yourselves.”

“That was for a good reason,” Hermione shot back. “We were trying to stop Voldemort!”

“Well there you go,” Draco said. “I was trying to save you and Eli… well more Eli than you – he makes delicious milk tarts, if he’d died, where would I have gotten breakfast from?”

“You know, I used to think that you were a colossal pain in the neck. Now I have a much lower opinion of you!”

“What is it that’s really upsetting you, Granger?” Malfoy asked. “Is it really that I used an illegal curse on you, or perhaps is it that I didn’t trust you enough to perform the spell by yourself?”

Hermione looked up instantly and stuttered for a second. “That’s nonsense.”

“Is it really?” Malfoy said, in a mocking tone. “Maybe you’re angry because you know that you couldn’t have performed that spell.”

“Shut up!”

“Maybe there is something that the brains of the Potter Posse cannot do.”

“I could have performed it easily!”

“Ha!” Draco said. “There’s no way. You know as well as I do that it was dark magic-”

“Yes, something you and your family are famed for, no doubt.”

“All this bitterness isn’t good for you, Granger,” Malfoy said callously.

“I don’t know what it is that ghost was after,” Hermione began. “But she isn’t an ordinary household ghoul.”

Draco yawned loudly while Hermione shot him a wrathful glare. “Oh sorry,” Draco said sarcastically. “Please keep on talking. I generally yawn when I’m interested.”

She scoffed and turned her back to Malfoy as she began walking down the hallway. “Oh by the way,” Malfoy added. “Breakfast is on the table, if you care to eat.”

“Why should I bother?” Hermione snapped. “You’ll probably eat the entire table with your appetite.”

“I’m terribly sorry,” Draco replied. “I’d leave some milk tarts for you but I’m afraid they’ll go straight to your thighs, which are incidentally looking a little chubbier nowadays.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped to the floor as her eyes immediately shot to her thighs. “It’s these pants! They’re unflattering!” Hermione yelled after Draco. “Wait…what the hell am I saying?” Hermione said to herself. “I did not gain weight…”

---
Ron stood in the crowded lanes of Diagon Alley. Even though it was just the break of dawn, witches and wizards were scrambling up and down the street, some opening up their stores, others getting an early start to the day’s shopping. Ron looked like a disheveled mess compared to even the most casually dressed people; he had hastily put on a green jumper over his night shirt and an old pair of faded jeans. His hair was unkempt, much like Harry’s, but his hair didn’t look as purposefully messed up but rather it seemed like he hadn’t taken the time to comb and set his hair, which he hadn’t.

He was standing beside an old used broomstick store as he tried to navigate his way to the fireplace that would eventually lead him to the train to the outer city. The problem then would be how to get from the outer city to Malfoy Manor. Slight drops of rain had begun to fall from the sky as Ron scrambled his way into the tiny broomstick shop to protect himself from the precipitation.

“Morning,” a deep voice said as he hastily wiped the raindrops from his face. Ron immediately turned around to see a rather large, old woman standing behind the counter with a bored smile on her face.

“Early shopping, I see,” she added as Ron nodded and acknowledged the greeting. He made his way into the store and surveyed the odd and old looking shop. The store itself wasn’t very big, about 10 people could fit in comfortably, and it had two doors on opposite walls – one leading to the street and the other, Ron guessed, to the backroom. There were two tiny windows that were currently shut but their panes looked rusted and worn out. There were two shelves on each wall, each of which carried four broomsticks mounted on a frame for a display and the only illumination in the room currently was the torches that were stuck up against the walls to emulate the effect of glamour.

“You fancy something?” the woman asked, in a rough voice.

“No, no…” Ron said. “I’m browsing, though,” he added quickly, noticing the instant displeasure on the old witch’s face.

“You ride?” she asked. The woman was a bit tubby but that was easily counteracted with her height, she was about the same height as Ron.

“A broomstick?” Ron asked thickly. “Yes…yes… often.”

“For Quidditch? Or do you just ride for fun?”

Ron hesitated. He really needed to find a way to the train station – it would only be a matter of time before Ginny and Harry figure out he was gone and they’d know exactly where to find him. “Both,” he said carelessly.

“Well, if you’re playing Quidditch, you’ll probably need something like this.” The woman moved out from behind the counter towards her displays. As she moved, Ron noticed that she wasn’t wearing the common frilly, grandmother style robes, but rather large blue ones with the a Quidditch player in green etched onto the arm and the slogan, “Ireland forever”.

She reached for a fairly long broomstick with a dark brown handle and slightly worn fibers at the top. “This one just came in a week ago, bought it off a chap from Sweden who’d come to visit. Pristine condition – flies like a bird”

“Is that so?” Ron replied, uninterested.

“Well,” the witch said, slightly offended. “If you don’t fancy this one, I’ve got plenty more.”

“No, really, it’s fine… I just-” Ron began, but it was too late. The witch had already scrambled over to her second shelf and taken out a broom with a jet black handle and the words ‘Viktor Krum’ etched onto it.

“This one here belonged to the Krum himself,” she said, proudly. “’Course it’s worth a lot but I’m not a Bulgaria fan me-self or I’d have kept it. It’s a Nimbus 5000, prime condition.”

Ron rolled his eyes and scoffed very slight – enough for effect but not enough that the witch would hear him. Krum never rode Nimbus broomsticks, he’d always ridden some famous Bulgarian model and clearly the words ‘Viktor Krum’ were scratched in with a spell or even a knife.

“Listen, I just need some directions,” Ron said weakly.

“What kind of directions?”

“I need to get to Malfoy Manor.”

The witch started to laugh in her deep, rough voice and her mouth opened wide enough to give Ron a good look at her rotting teeth. “Malfoy Manor, you’re crazy, right?”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Boy, nobody can get to Malfoy Manor…”

Ron heaved an angry sigh and turned towards the woman. “Alright, you know what? I just need to get to the outer city.”

“Well you’ll need to take a train to get there,” the witch replied testily.

“Yeah, I got that part,” Ron said, irritably. “I mean, where are the trains?”

“Well, you go straight down the road towards that dress robes store and make a left. The fireplaces are on your first turn to the right after that. You take the fireplaces to the train station.”

“And which train do I take?”

The witch smiled roguishly. “Well, I got a whole load of train schedules back there behind the counter,” she said, gesturing towards her old seat. “They got times and locations.”

“Alright, I’ll take one of those,” Ron said eagerly, reaching into his back pocket for some money.

“Oh no, I’m afraid I can’t sell you those,” the witch replied toothily. “Those are only for distribution-”

“Alright, well then I’ll just take one.”

“Let me finish, boy,” she said. “Those are only for distribution with the purchase of a broomstick.” She shot a cocky smile at Ron who tried to control his anger.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll…I’ll take the…the Krum broomstick and a train schedule.”

“Fine choice. Incidentally, this very broomstick was featured in Witch Weekly’s-”

“That’s great…” Ron said dismissively. “Can you please be quick?"

“That will be sixty eight galleons.”

Ron’s jaw dropped to the floor. He opened his mouth to say something but a meaningful look in the witch’s eye told him that buying that broomstick was the only way he’d be able to get his schedule. “I don’t have sixty eight galleons,” Ron said, holding out the fourteen galleons had hastily picked out of his robes before leaving the Burrow.

“We take credit,” the woman said.

“Credit?” Ron asked. “What’s that?”

“Well, you give me the fourteen galleons and I collect the rest from a family member,” she said. “You got a wife? Parents?”

Ron cursed under his breath. If he asked Ginny and Harry to pay for the rest of the broomstick, he’d leave a bread crumb trail that would lead them straight to him. But he had no choice. Ten minutes later, he had written down the address of the Burrow with instructions to Harry to find the rest of the money in Ron’s trunk in his room, bought himself a fake Viktor Krum broom and acquired a Diagon Alley train schedule.

---

“…yes, thank you,” Harry said, disheartened, as he pulled his head out of the fireplace.

“What happened?” Ginny asked as she brought in two cups of lemon tea and placed them gingerly on the oak table beside Harry.

“I just talked to the guy who runs the fireplaces at Diagon Alley,” Harry added, sitting up straight and grabbing one the cups hastily.

“And?”

“He said he hadn’t seen Ron or for that matter, anyone similar looking.” Both Harry and Ginny were still in their pajamas even though both of them had been up for hours.

“Well, that doesn’t say anything,” Ginny said encouragingly, sipping her tea. “Hundreds of people use those fireplaces each day, Ron could have easily slipped through.”

“Well, either way, tracing him is going to be virtually impossible. He left hours ago, he could be anywhere by now. He’ll always be one step ahead of us – even if we leave right now.”

“Can’t we ask Hermione to keep an eye out for him or something?” Ginny asked. She got up and closed the window, through which the cold wind was blowing in.

“He won’t make it that far,” Harry said gloomily. “It’s virtually impossible to find Malfoy Manor without someone who knows the way there, not to mention the enchantments and spells on the gates and the courtyards.”

“Well what do you propose?” Ginny asked and threw her hands up in a defeated gesture.

While Ginny and Harry pondered away the different possibilities, Mrs. Weasley slowly crept into the living room and interrupted the silence. “There’s someone at the door for you, Harry,” she said kindly. Through the years, Mrs. Weasley hadn’t changed a bit except for a slightly greyer hair; she still had the same authority, same kind spirit and same floral dresses.

“For me?” Harry asked, puzzled.

“Her name is Florence Baggerworth,” Mrs. Weasley added, hoping it would ring some bells.

“No idea,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders and looking at Ginny.

“I’ve never heard of her either,” Ginny said.

“Well, she says that Ron sent her to you.”

Both Harry and Ginny jumped instantly up, causing the poor old woman to take a few steps back in surprise. “What is it?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

“Is she by the door?” Harry asked.

“I’ll let her in,” Mrs. Weasley said and made her way towards the front door. From a distance her welcoming voice could be heard, ushering the guest in towards the living room. When she came into view, both Harry and Ginny saw the plump woman who was slightly aged with graying brown hair and a huge set of robes which read ‘Ireland forever’.

“Dear Merlin, you are Harry Potter!” she exclaimed with joy, pushing past Ginny and shaking hands eagerly with Harry.

“Yes, hello,” Harry said a bit awkwardly as his wrist was being disjointed from his arm with her hard handshake. “I understand Ron sent you.”

“That was Ron Weasley?” the woman said in surprise. “That’s why he looked so familiar; when I was talking to him, I kept asking me-self…”

“Yes that’s great,” Ginny interrupted. “Do you have a message from Ron?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” the woman said, giving a rather cold stare to Ginny. “I do, however, have a bill of 54 galleons on his behalf.”

“For what?”

“This morning,” the woman said. “He came into me store and bought a broomstick for sixty eight galleons but he only had fourteen. I have a note from him.”

The woman produced a piece of paper that had the same hurried, scratchy writing that Harry had seen on Ron’s note last night. “Pay her fifty four galleons for a broomstick, the money’s in my trunk, don’t look for me,” Harry read the note aloud. Ginny took the note from Harry and reread it to herself, finally sighing and looking at Harry.

“I’ll get the money,” she said, putting her cup of tea on the oak desk and getting up.

“Well, um… Mrs. Baggerworth,” Harry started.

“Ms. Baggerworth,” she corrected with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Er…right. Ms. Baggerworth, do you know where Ron was going this morning?” Harry asked.

“He wanted to get to Malfoy Manor, that silly boy. I told him-”

“Do you remember, by any chance, what time this was?”

Ginny came downstairs and handed Baggerworth a small pouch of gold galleons. She overturned it in her lap and began counting frivolously. “Why?” she asked. “You trying to find him or something?”

“Yes, we are,” Ginny said, impatiently.

“Well for an extra four galleons, I’ll tell you the tracking spell I put on his broom,” Baggerworth said confidingly.

“Tracking spell?” Both Harry and Ginny gaped.

“I put them on all me brooms,” she said proudly. “Until the broom’s been paid off, I need to make sure I know where it is but once I get all the money, I remove the spell. I can make an exception in this case, of course.”

Harry looked at Ginny who had an irritated look on her face but nodded sourly. “Give her four galleons,” she said.

Harry produced four galleons and handed it to the happy old woman. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said eagerly. “The spell is Vulticulus Mei. Just say the words and your wand will direct you to the broom.”
---
Rodolphus Lestrange sat quietly in his temporary residence- a small cottage on the outskirts of Bulgaria. His chase from the law had made his rough face even harder, deepening the lines of coarseness and grown out his already disheveled black hair. What had previously been some obstinate stubble was now a full beard and what had been bristly fingernails were now pointed talons.

The light in the one room cottage was only turned on at nights to a very dim level – just enough to see, but not be seen. The lights also served a purpose to illuminate the shadows in Lestrange’s face and make the dark circles under his eyes seem hollow, almost inhuman.

At the corner of the room, a small door stood through which a lanky wizard entered. “Rodolphus,” he hissed slightly. The night was dark and the man stood within the shadows, but Lestrange immediately recognized him, acknowledging this by a crooked smile on his face.

“Mulciber,” he said in a cold voice. “What brings you here?”

“It’s past midnight,” he said in a voice that seemed strong at first but held subtle tremors of fear. “Remember the rules, we turn out all lights at midnight.”

“I very well remember,” Lestrange said calmly. “I tend not to forget rules I make up.”

“The Bulgarians are watchful people,” Mulciber warned. “We need to make sure no one tracks us here.”

“There’s no need for you to check in on me,” Lestrange replied. “I will turn my lights out when my business is done.”

Mulciber looked like he was about to utter something but held himself back. “Right, then.” He had learnt from a lot of previous experience that questioning the leader was never a good idea.

“Before you leave though,” Lestrange added. “Drop off a bottle of that Bulgarian mead.”

Mulciber cocked an eyebrow. “Who's coming?”

Lestrange nodded with a smile. “My favorite nephew, in fact.”

[Liz-Miia Parker]

Ühüü, läheb põnevaks...aga siiski ma ei saa aru kuda see hermione ja draco fic on ha ha ha
Ja btw Liss, postita mujale kah, nt puhketuppa jne. - ja mul see teine fic aversion to change...et loete ka ikka seda ? keegi ?

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Küll aru saate, kuidas see D/H fic on
Ja sed fici loen mina...nii et pane seda ilusti üles
Ja kas sa saaksid saata mulle meie puhketoa parooli, ma olen selle ära unustanud.

[Julia Darline Evans]

Hahah, siin on tõesti kõik nii kaugel selleni, et Draco ja Hermione "üksteist leiaksid''

[Greete Black]

Ma kardan, et mulle meeldib see fic seni, kuni see mingiks love storyks ei muutu. -.-
Kuid, eks ma nüüd loe seda sinu ficki Liz:D

[Lissandra Sylvania]

Chapter 11 : Shadows and Dust

The night was getting thick as Ron saw the huge clock chime 10 p.m. He was now on the outskirts of London as he descended from the train that he had caught earlier that afternoon. The train ride had been bumpy, in the literal sense. It had left the lines and was operating strictly in heavily wooded areas with uneven surfaces and unusual terrain. A wave of nausea had crept over him as the train had climbed over a huge mountain and then descended at, what felt like, the speed of sound.

He took a few seconds to calm himself down as the last of the passengers dismounted and the train pulled out of the cold station, disappearing into the night. Aside from the four people who had gotten off with him and one bored looking train clerk at the edge of the platform, not a single sign of life was visible.

“This is great,” he whispered to himself as he realized that Malfoy’s directions had been limited in usefulness. He now stood in the Outer city with nothing but a used broomstick and an empty rucksack, he hadn’t eaten in over 14 hours and his temporary adrenaline rush was now wearing itself off as his eyelids began to droop.

“Get it together,” he hissed to himself. “If you fall asleep, you’ll wake up with nothing but a broken bone.” The outer city was known for its extremely high crime rate with most of the crimes usually remaining within its borders. Ministry intervention in this part of London was limited to the occasional investigation when someone respectable or rich got caught up and even then, they tried to get out as soon as possible but for the most part, it was a dog eat dog existence.

“Are you lost?” the train clerk asked Ron and he soon realized how stupid he must have looked standing there by himself, even the four passengers had left the platform.

“I’m trying to get somewhere,” he said thickly. His hands clasped around his wand that sat loosely in his jean pocket.

“Isn’t everyone?” the clerk laughed. As he moved closer, Ron saw the face of the young man and remarked at the fresh and innocent face that seemed so rare in this part of London. He was shorter than Ron but about the same age, with black hair that stood out against his hazel eyes.

“Any place in particular?” he asked.

“Malfoy Manor,” Ron said, awaiting the surprised and mocking expression in the face of the young man. It didn’t take long; within seconds, the man had chuckled with a hollow voice.

“You’re kidding, right?” he asked.

“No.”

“Oh.”

The silence was awkward for a few seconds until Ron rolled his eyes and sighed. “I need to get to Malfoy Manor,” he said again. “Can you help me?”

“Sorry,” the man said, waving his hands up in defeat. “Never been there, never met anyone who has been there, don’t plan on going.”

“Coward,” Ron mumbled to himself as he sat down on one of the dirty benches.

“Listen mate,” the young man said. “Haven’t you heard the stories?”

Ron looked up. “What stories?”

“The Malfoy Manor is not a mansion,” he said slowly. “It’s a fortress. Not even the ministry dares to enter its grounds without permission.”

“What’s so bad about it?” Ron asked and the young man looked at him with stupor.

“The spells, the incantations, charms, traps, enchantments… where can I begin?” he said in a whisper. “Anyone who makes it to the front gates is considered a hero but when he tries to make it to the front door, he’s considered a fool.”

“Thanks,” Ron said sarcastically as he got up and made his way towards the other end of the platform.

“Wait a minute,” the man called after him. “Who are you?”

Ron paused briefly as he swung his bag over his shoulder. “A fool.”

---

Hermione stood impatiently in the main entrance of the manor, pacing around occasionally to keep the blood flowing in her legs. She had been unable to contain her excitement when Malfoy had mentioned that he’d be leaving later tonight and with Eli already gone somewhere else, the manor was hers to explore all night.

“Merlin, Granger,” Malfoy spat as he entered the hall. “Your steps are as loud as elephants’. Take it easy will you – my tiles are very delicate.”

Hermione glowered as she repeated the words in her head, he’ll be gone tonight. “I really wish Eli would return soon,” he continued, ignoring the angry stares Hermione was throwing at him. “I hate it when he’s late.”

“He’ll be back soon?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Malfoy replied curtly. “Ideally, he should already be here… must’ve run into some trouble.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow. “What kind of trouble? What’s he doing anyways?”

Malfoy ignored her question and began to idly dusting off his sleek brown jacket. His hair was, once again, neatly brushed back and he was wearing a tan shirt under his jacket with black pants. He smelt of a very intoxicating scent – a fusion of coconut and ginger. “I suppose I can just bring my own luggage down, myself,” he said shortly and walked out of the room nonchalantly.

“Brat,” Hermione muttered to herself.

She leaned against on the stone gargoyles that decorated the dimly lit room. The huge grandfather clock by the statue stated that it was just past ten thirty and Hermione felt her window of opportunity shrinking as each second past; the moment Eli returned she would be constantly under watch and unable to undertake her extravagantly planned expedition throughout the dungeons.

“You seem disappointed,” a cold voice said and Hermione snapped out of her daze as Malfoy returned into the room with a sleek, dragon-hide rucksack that hung loosely from his shoulder.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m away Granger,” he said with that familiar crooked smile on his face. “I’ll be back before sundown tomorrow but knowing you, the entire mansion could burn down by then. So please, for the sake of my ancestors’ house, stay safe.”

Hermione scowled and resumed pacing around the entrance hall. “Well,” she started, “since you asked so nicely.”

Malfoy didn’t get a chance to react to her sarcasm as the front door opened dramatically and a dark shadow moved into the hall. As the darkness began to dissent and the light hit the shadow, Hermione couldn’t make out his features completely but that green jumper was recognizable anywhere – even when it was on a tired and beat out young man instead of a jovial and spirited red headed boy.

“Ron!” Hermione gasped loudly. She immediately ran forward and threw her arms around his neck, rocking all her weight onto him. He was startled for a moment but his eyes melted with warmth as he felt Hermione in his arms after a long time.

“Hey,” he said wearily, flashing a broad smile on his face. His grip tightened around her waist as he pressed his face against her neck and smelt the fragrance of her hair and felt the silkiness of her skin. “I’ve missed you.”

“Eli!” Malfoy called out rudely, interrupting what could have been a very precious moment. Ron and Hermione broke up instantly and both of them turned red – Hermione from embarrassment and Ron from anger. Eli came in shortly afterwards carrying Ron’s ripped backpack and a broomstick and bowed to Malfoy obediently.

“Yes, sir?” he asked.

“I was under the impression that you were getting food for the thestrals,” Malfoy replied. “Not, picking up homeless wizards.”

“Idiot,” Ron hissed under his breath.

“Mr. Weasley was lost,” Eli replied. “It’s a good thing I found him because he was on his way here alone- a dangerous task, no doubt.”

“I’d rather you had let him try to pry his way through carnivorous plants, it would have been amusing,” Draco said, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“Sod off,” Ron replied and turned back to Hermione.

“You were coming here?” she asked, her tone clearly worried.

“Yeah,” Ron replied. “I got your letter,” he continued, holding out the folded piece of parchment addressed to Professor McGonagall.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she realized what Ron was talking about. “Oh, Ron!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry… so sorry you had to read that.”

“Yeah,” he said. “The moment I read about that creature, I-”

“Creature?” Malfoy interrupted.

“Yes,” Ron said, puffing his chest forward and glaring at Malfoy. “This thing you’ve got running around your castle burning everything in sight.”

Malfoy’s expression faltered for a second, even less and he had already recovered himself. “Fat mouth, Granger,” he said angrily. “I saved your life and you go around telling the world that I’m torturing you with burns.”

“I never said that,” she said quickly. “And you didn’t save my life.”

“Master Malfoy,” Eli interrupted suddenly; clearly, he had been sensing the hostility and wanted to put an end to it. “I believe you are already late for your business trip.”

“Business trip?” Ron asked, suspiciously.

“Yes,” Malfoy retorted. “It’s what those of us with jobs do - work.”

He grabbed his bag and readjusted it on his shoulder, walking towards the main entrance. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening,” he told Eli. “We will talk then,” he added in a low whisper that only Eli could make out.

“Yes, sir,” Eli said, nodding. “Have a safe trip.”

“I hope you get injured!” Ron called after him and as the door shut, Hermione heard a few choice curse words from Malfoy that she hadn’t ever heard before.

“I’ll fix dinner, Mr. Weasley,” he said, nodding politely to Ron as he made his way to the kitchen.

Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and ushered him up the long complex passageways and around the great flights of stairs, finally ending up in front of an oak door that led to Hermione’s beautiful room. “I guess things aren’t as bad as I had worried,” Ron said, eyeing the expensive furniture and lavish décor.

Hermione sat herself down on the bed and tapped the empty space beside her, indicating for Ron to come over. As they both sat down beside each other, Hermione looked into Ron’s eyes with a look of concern and regret. “I’m sorry for scaring you,” she said slowly. “I may have over-reacted initially.” She tried to keep her voice steady, realizing that mentioning the episode in the North Tower would probably not be the best idea.

“It’s not your fault,” he replied. “I over-reacted too. I bet Harry and Ginny are searching for me as we speak.”

“You didn’t tell them you were leaving?”

“Not really. The moment McGonagall’s letter arrived by accident-” Hermione’s face dawned comprehension as she realized that she had made a stupid mistake and misaddressed the envelopes. “-I got my things together and just left that night.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Hermione replied, taking Ron’s hand into her own hand interlacing her fingers with his.

“Well, in my defence, I had every right to,” he said. “The thing you described in the letter was no laughing matter – it sounded like serious dark magic.”

“I know,” Hermione said sombrely, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “You smell awful by the way,” she added.

Ron laughed casually. “I left in the dead of night and have been roaming London aimlessly ever since,” he said, amused. “I’m sorry if I forgot to shower.”

“So you really just left without even considering the fact that you didn’t know where the Manor was?” Hermione’s tone was disapproving but at the same time, she could hear the happiness in her voice, knowing that he’d come to look for her.

“I heard what Malfoy told you about the way to the Manor but he left out the part about how to get from the Outer City to the mansion itself… that’s when that butler comes in.”

“Eli,” Hermione corrected him. “He found you?”

“Well,” Ron said in a hesitant tone. “It was almost… almost as if he were looking for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was at the platform and I’d just spoken to some lunatic who told me that I’d never be able to find the mansion so I sat at the other end, near the front of the trains, on a bench thinking about what I should do next. Two trains came and left and he sort of…came up to me. He asked me if I was Ronald Weasley and I told him to bugger off but then he told me that he heard me talking about getting to Malfoy Manor. He said he could take me there, that he worked there. I didn’t really have a choice because it was either I follow him or go back home – so I followed him, hoping that he wasn’t some crazy murderer out to get me.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Hermione said. “It didn’t seem like he was looking for you.”

“Reasonable?”

“Well, the Malfoys are… overprotective of their house. I’d be willing to bet my life that they’ve got the entire village here under surveillance. Eli must have heard you coming and gone to fetch you before you killed yourself trying to get past the front gates.”

“I suppose,” Ron said weakly. “I can’t think straight right now,” he added. “I’m so hungry!”

“Eli cooks really well,” Hermione said, her head still resting on Ron’s shoulders. “You should go wash up before dinner anyways.”

“There are other things I’d rather do before dinner,” Ron said, smiling mischievously as he placed his lips behind Hermione’s ears.

“Ron, stop it,” Hermione giggled. He placed his hand over her waist and held her gently as he ran his lips along her cheek.

Before things could get out of hand, however, there was a prompt knock on the door and both Hermione and Ron broke apart. Ron groaned loudly in annoyance as Hermione called, “Who is it?”

“Dinner is served,” Eli announced through the door. “I’ll be waiting in the dining room beside the entrance hall, Ms. Granger.”

“Thank you,” Hermione replied and stood up before Ron’s lips could find her cheek again.

“Hey, I wasn’t finished!” Ron protested.

“You’re sweaty and hungry, like a true animal,” Hermione joked. “Go take a shower and we can have dinner.”

“Kill joy,” Ron said, making a baby face as he stood up off the plush bed. “I have no clothes, by the way,” he said after a while.

“I’m sure Eli will have taken care of that,” Hermione said, ushering Ron towards the bathroom four doors down. She hastily opened the door and they both a pair of green, silk pyjamas lying on top of the marble counter as well as a full set of towels.

“Those?” Ron asked, wide eyed. “I’m not wearing Malfoy’s underwear.”

“Ron, it’s clean,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

“Nope, no way!”

“Fine, you can come to dinner naked,” she hissed and banged the door shut, leaving Ron alone with a pouting face in the bathroom. “Idiot.”

---

Malfoy curled the thin wine glass in his hand as he glowered in the darkness of the small cottage. His tall frame hadn’t been able to fit comfortably into Lestrange’s weak, wooden chairs –clearly, a change from his lavishly cushioned chairs at the Manor. The darkness in the night was thick as the unnatural fog settled around Lestrange’s temporary hideout on the outskirts of Bulgaria with an eerie silence. It was past 2 a.m. and despite his best efforts, Draco didn’t feel as alert as he probably would have wanted to.

“I’m glad you finally came,” Lestrange said courteously, filling Draco’s glass halfway. His tone was casual as if they were sitting in living room in broad daylight and Draco had just come by for a friendly visit.

“I had no idea where you were,” Draco replied. “I’m surprised that you chose Bulgaria.”

“I’m just as surprised as you are,” Lestrange said, letting out a rough laugh.

“It’s a dangerous place.”

“Well, the ministry’s weak here and their influence extends only so far as convenience permits,” he said, smiling.

“I’d imagine that convenience is something you favour at this point?”

“It’s a luxury,” Lestrange said, his crooked smile still visible. “But all these years of hard work – literally, blood and sweat- have not been wasted. The Lestrange name is still recognized.”

“Ah yes,” Draco said, comprehension dawning on his face. He put his wine glass down on the table (better described as a thick piece of wood) without taking a sip. “Maximus.”

“You remembered,” Lestrange said. His tone sounded impressed but his expression remained as cold and blank as ever. “I called him on a few favours and well, let’s just say that having the Minister of Magic in your palm means a fair bit of convenience.”

“Are you planning on staying long?”

Lestrange readjusted himself to make himself more comfortable – a feeling that Draco couldn’t accomplish- and bore his yellow teeth in a cold smile. “While the weather permits.”

“It seems a bit warm here,” Draco said, looking out the window. “I’ve heard that rainfall is in…”

“Not that kind of weather,” Lestrange interrupted. “The kind that permits me to enter England again with very few questions asked.”

“It’s cold in England,” Draco shot back, playing on Lestrange’s analogy. “Far too cold.”

“Am I not welcome back?”

Draco’s expression didn’t falter as he pondered the question. “There has been no recent news of a new minister so you can’t get one of your men into the Ministry.”

“A piteous but trifling obstacle,” Lestrange acknowledged.

“Agreed.”

“I’ve heard that Potter is moving up, rumours say he’s going to be the next head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“They’re rumours,” Draco acknowledged.

“I need to get back before he gets any closer to the top. We both know he’s going to crack down on security once he gets the power. If I can weasel my way back into England now, I can avoid a long string of trouble in the future.”

“Good plan, I suppose,” Draco replied, in a cold and nonchalant voice. He reached for his glass and decided that one sip wouldn’t hurt him.

“Naturally, I’ll need your help.”

Draco didn’t seem surprised or confused. He merely nodded as he set his glass back on the table. “Naturally.”

“Are you enjoying the wine, Draco?” he asked. Malfoy looked up for an instant and then his expression went blank again.

“It has a rather cruel texture,” he remarked, staring at the glass with a look of disappointment and smugness. “It’s a shame actually – I’ve always enjoyed the refreshments during visits with you.”

Lestrange let out a cold, hollow laugh that echoed around the dark walls. “You always had your father’s disposition,” he said, flashing another gritty smile. “Old Lucius – never one for an honest day’s work. He’d rather sit at home with his fancy drinks and big mansion than get his hands dirty.”

“For you,” Draco began with a chilly tone. “I am getting my hands dirty.”

“The question is, how dirty?”

“Enough that a little water will hide the tracks,” Draco said snidely. “I have a reputation to protect after all.”

“Excellent,” he replied. “I knew I could count on you.”

“How do you plan on getting into England?” Draco asked after a few minutes of silence, the anticipation in his voice was masked well but Lestrange readjusted his expression.

“I’m glad you asked,” he said in the same casual tone.

“It just seems that Bulgaria, or rather anywhere in the world, is safer for you than England.”

“It’s not the getting in that bugs me, but rather the staying inconspicuous. I’ll need a good place to hide, a safe one.”

“You are always welcome at Malfoy Manor,” Draco said blithely. “Of course,” he added, “my hospitality extends only so far as family is concerned – your cronies will need to find a sanctuary elsewhere.”

“Of course,” Lestrange said. “I’m glad you chose the right side,” he added. “You chose well.”

Draco saw his watch tick past the thirty minute mark, indicating that it was already 2:30 a.m. “And yet,” he said, with evident boredom, “You compare me to my father.”

“Well I didn’t say you had his stupidity,” Lestrange acknowledged. “But you prefer the luxury and power that comes along with this line of work.”

“Now come, Uncle Ralph,” Draco said, with a smile forming at the edge of his lips. “I think we can agree that power is the ultimate goal.”

“How so?”

“Power over people, over places, over fate – it’s what we all strive for.”

Lestrange’s expression changed to one of true pleasure as he reached for the thick piece of wood and grabbed a glass of mead off of it. “Now,” he said happily as his coarse fingers circled the container. “That is something I will drink to.”

He tipped the bottle feverously towards his glass and the warm brown liquid poured into it. Draco grabbed his own glass and raised it as Lestrange spoke. “To power over everyone,” he said in a drunken euphoria.

“Over everything,” Draco added and they clicked their glasses.
---
Ron strolled into the dining room casually twenty minutes late with his green jumper and jeans on him. As he walked into the magnificent room, eyeing the furniture with awe and savouring the smell of sweet food, he saw Hermione glare at him from where she sat.

“I took a shower,” he said defensively as he took a seat beside Hermione on the huge table. There were four plates, each with a different type of meat served with sauces, and a bowl of grilled vegetables with mashed potatoes.

“You put on your dirty clothes!” Hermione said, heaving a sigh. “Don’t you find that gross?”

“No,” Ron said honestly. “Truth be told, I’d rather wear muddy clothes than have Malfoy’s clothes on my back.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned her attention towards the food. “Have some,” she offered as she grabbed the nearest plate, which looked like it had chicken in it, and took a piece.

Ron grabbed the plate farthest from him containing a roasted slab of beef, adding a heap of potatoes on the side. “This smells good,” he added.

“You should send an owl to Harry and Ginny,” Hermione offered as she began to check on a piece of chicken. “They’ll be relieved.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a twinge of guilt. “They’ll be fine though,” he said.

Hermione reached over for the vegetables which were a little beyond her grasp; Ron stood up slightly and grabbed the bowl, handing it to her. As he did so, the bowl grazed Hermione’s hand slightly and she recoiled with a wince.

“What?” Ron asked.

“It’s nothing,” Hermione said quickly, spooning vegetables onto her plate absentmindedly.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked again.

“It’s really nothing, Ron,” Hermione insisted. The pile of vegetables was growing larger as Hermione kept on adding more.

Ron took her arm and placed his hand gently on her wrist, squeezing it slightly so she let go of the spoon. He gingerly grabbed her long sleeve and rolled it up, his eyes grimacing in awe. Along her arms, the red visible lines of distinct burn marks remained as evidence of the happenings of the last few days at the Manor.

“Ron…” Hermione began weakly. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Those were the burns you were talking about?”

Hermione nodded as Ron kept an unusually calm face but her eyes traced along his arms and found his hands, balled up in fists with the veins popping up at the sides. “Ron, trust me.”

His warms fingers ran along the burn marks and she cringed slightly from the pain of contact and saw the anger on Ron’s face. “He will pay.”

“Ron, listen to me,” Hermione said, placing her hands on Ron’s shoulders in an effort to calm him.

“Those aren’t a joke, Hermione!” Hermione could see the rage boiling in his eyes as he got up from the table and slammed the chair against the floor. Hermione rose immediately and took Ron’s hands in her own, gently running her fingers along them to keep him calm.

“He will pay,” Ron repeated. “I’ll make sure he does.”

“Ron!” Hermione said, in a pleading voice. “Listen to me.”

“There’s nothing to listen to – when he gets home, I will kill him.”

Hermione placed her hand on the sides of Ron’s face and drew his face towards hers, meeting his eyes. “I… I don’t think these are Malfoy’s fault,” she said slowly.

“What are you talking about?” Ron was calmer now and Hermione released his face from her cold hands.

“I think,” she said. “I think whatever it was that burnt me… that burnt this castle, it worries Malfoy.”

Ron still looked confused as Hermione took him by the hand and pulled him over to the chairs, seating him down. “When it was attacking, when she was attacking, Malfoy was trying to fight back and I saw him collapse to the ground and he was screaming.”

Ron’s interest was now peaked and his ears were sharply listening to Hermione’s words. “He was as afraid of her, probably more.”

“So, what does this mean?” Ron asked.

“It means,” Hermione began, “that there is something very wrong with Malfoy Manor.”