The Malfoy Project

𝟖𝟓 - 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐈𝐧

18+ content

༻⚜༺

     The upstairs of The Rabbit Hole was completely opposite of its exterior. 

     Yes, the upstairs. Around the bar, nestled in a dark obscure corner, was a lift, which opened to reveal an interior of luxurious marble-like material. The gold-plated railings and panels lent it an old-worldly feel, as if it had come from a bygone century of economic prosperity, of music and gilded grandeur. 

     We stumbled in and I briefly registered Ainsley pressing the number '8'. With a Ding! the doors closed, and we began a slow ascend. Another Ding! that I barely heard, and they reopened to a long, narrow corridor of rooms, not unlike that of St. Mungo's. However, instead of sterile clinical floors, a plush red carpet trailed from the landing to further than the eye could see. The walls were French boiserie, the white ornate wood panelling reminiscent of the upper levels of Malfoy Manor. Lining them all the way down were electric lamps in frosted tulip-shaped bulbs; a faerie path to somewhere magical and unknown.

     I remember racing down the hall with Ainsley, the both of us giggling like children and hushing each other loudly, only to burst into another fit of hysterics. We came to the third-last door, and from her pocket she pulled out the card Lewis had given her earlier. She tapped it onto a metal contraption attached to the door, and with a shrill beep! an unseen mechanism clicked open.

     The room beyond was cavernous, so large I was convinced the narrow wedge of building we had entered just a few hours earlier couldn't have possibly been all Muggle. As with the outside, the walls were also French boiserie, though some sections of it were covered in a tasteful gold fleur-de-lys pattern. The curtains were a deep royal blue, and so was the headboard of the enormous white bed. All this lushness should not have surprised me, but nevertheless I was still astounded that such a decrepit building could hold a gem like this within. 

     Slightly delirious and propelled by woozy excitement, I threw myself on the bed, spreading my limbs out like a star. A small gold chandelier hung down from the ceiling, all shimmering crystal and gilded gold. "It looks just like ours," I slurred dreamily. 

     There was no response. I back sat up quickly, suddenly terrified that this was all some sort of cruel lucid dream. 

     To my relief, Ainsley was still standing by the door, though it was too dark to make out her expression. It was then I realised we hadn't switched on the lights. She regarded me in silence for a long while before pushing herself off the wall. I watched as she crossed the room, her figure outlined in silver by the little moonlight that filtered through the neighbouring buildings. She didn't stop until she was right in front of me. I had to tip my head backwards to look at her. 

     Her brows were pulled together just the faintest bit, her mouth set in a tender line. The laughter was gone now. The quietness of the room seemed to sober us some, making us acutely aware of the fact that we were now completely alone, together. 

     She inhaled, and I thought she was about to say something, until, to my surprise, she wordlessly took my head between her hands and gently, very gently, brought it to rest against her chest, her arms folded tight over my neck and upper back. 

     I blinked against the white fabric of her top, too astonished to move. She did not speak. She did not move. After a few moments like that, I decided to put my arms around her as well. My head was still spinning, and my body might have been swaying, so I closed my eyes.