𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐀

☾ Chapter 50

☾

The Parisian flat consisted of everything Hermione had ever dreamed of in the past year and a half, and yet she couldn't bear to enjoy any of it.

French wines, baths of rose petals, wondrous sunsets and sex.

But even the richest of lifestyles couldn't spare her from the desperate, clawing hands of desolation and sorrow. 

They'd packed three days worth of supplies. Hermione lugged her backpack over her shoulder as Draco checked the safe, locking it with a combination code he refused to tell even her.

"Where are we going?"

"Blaise told me the exact entry location," Draco huffed, heaving his own bag onto his back, placing his wand in his inner jacket pocket, "It's not far."

She followed him out the door, tying her curls into a ponytail behind her head.

Draco placed the do not disturb sign onto their door handle, before turning

"You look pretty," he mumbled, rolling a ring with his finger before turning down the hall, towards the elevators.

Hermione blushed.

He pressed the first floor button, and after thirty seconds of silence, they stepped into the lobby. It was nearly empty, and Draco nodded to the front desk worker before they stepped out the main entryway, into the warm summer sun.

His paranoia was evident, wrapping his hand in hers as they made their way down the streets towards Blaise's location.

The sun warming her freckled skin contrasted the cold she felt.

The darkness.

Hermione had never felt more alone, despite the man right besides her.

Why had they been given the curse of saving the world, when all she wanted was to curl in his arms and never let go?

He paused between streets before taking her down an alleyway. Quieter, unknown. A homeless man sat besides a cart of what the middle class would call junk, and rats scurried along the brick walls in search of scrap from old trash bags.

A section of the building's side was tainted.

"Lapides aperta," Draco whispered, pressing his hands upon the stone, and suddenly it fell through like smoke, his pale skin veiled in grey.

"Be careful," Hermione breathed, mind hitched on one thing that would never leave the front of her brain, "Please."

Draco held his wand in front of him cautiously as they entered the cavelike maze of twisted pathways.

"We will," he murmured, her hand held tightly in his own as she lit Blaise's map with a flick of her wand. The further they ventured downwards, the darker it became. Droplets of murky water splattered onto the puddled floor.

"What is this place?"

"You know what the catacombs are, Granger," Draco chuckled, squeezing her palm, "But this area specifically was sectioned off by wizards a long time ago. You wouldn't find it in your average school textbook."

Hermione hummed, staring at the map. Blaise had marked the sword's location, the nearest muggle exit, and the closest underground floo, an old rundown fireplace carved from the stone underneath the city.

"Maybe we should-"

He silenced her with a finger to his lips, holding her against the wall. There was a faint shimmer of light down the corridor. A lamp, which two soldiers sat besides, drinking.