[✓] 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲. draco malfoy

17| A Gift

''𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.''

𝗛𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗳𝗶𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝗼𝗿, 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗱 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝘀𝘁. I winced at the sound of the metal scraping against the stone floor. Pretty sure it echoed, but I couldn't determine how far. Hermione didn't seem faced, like she had done that a million times over. 

I followed behind as she left the door open, guards poised at either side. They gave me a weird look, but let us in nonetheless. Their hands met in front of them and they sported nice looking suits, wands clutched tightly between their fingers. It made me wonder if they ever moved, seeing as they hadn't blinked. 

Inside the room had brought back a few memories. When I was kept in the cellar at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa Malfoy had came down a few times to tend to my wounds. Draco came down in the afternoons, mainly after everyone had been in bed and wasn't suspecting him or anything. 

The hallway was dimly lighted, a few torches hanging from the walls. They seemed to be flickering out. On the right side of the wall, cells. Bars held back prisoners, who were non-existent. Seems Hermione doesn't have any enemies. Or maybe they're just all in Azkaban. I dread to think about the latter. 

Each of the cells were provided with a thin looking blanket for a bed, not to mention a bucket that sits in the corner. I scrunched my nose at the sight of it. Hermione's heels clicked against the floor and a low groan had sounded at the end of the long hallway. At the very last cell. 

Hermione continued, almost ignoring the sound. I started to think that I had imagined the sound. When Hermione started to slow her walk, I did so with her. She stood beside the last cell, throwing me a look over her shoulder and beckoning me forward with her hand. I stepped forward, my eyes instantly catching the figure inside the cell. 

Even though their back was turned, I could see their clothing. A long sleeved shirt that was stripped with gray and black. The pants being a solid gray color. The person's hair was tousled and went down to about their shoulders, maybe a few centimeters past. Their legs were stretched out in front of them, hand settled gently against their lap. 

Beside the figure was a tray. The tray had a plate full of food on top, untouched, ghosted. Hermione turned to look at the figure, determined and stomped her heel on the ground to grab their attention.

''I already heard you stomping down here.'' They spoke, their raspy voice going through one ear. ''No need to continue.''

''You have a visitor.'' Hermione informed. I furrowed my brows, no, this person did not have a visitor. 

''Yippee. How fun.'' He sarcastically replied. He raised his hands in mock happiness, showing how calloused and wounded they were. Faded scars going from his palm and down to his wrist. His hands fell back down carelessly.