The Secret Heir {Dramoine}

Chapter Two

. . . . .

"Mippy must not leave Miss Granger, sir! Mippy must always watch her!"

Hermione awoke with a loud groan. Her head felt extinguished, and her body felt exhausted. There was a searing pain in her left arm. She felt as though she had come back from the dead.

"Mippy, I am the one that told you to watch her for Merlin's sake. Now go and get the things I requested." A deep, frustrated voice retaliated.

"Yes, Master. Mippy is very sorry Master. Mippy will go right away!" A loud pop echoed through the room and Hermione finally opened her eyes.

She was thankful it was dark so it took no time for her eyes to adjust. She was lying down on cold concrete, the ceiling above her was jagged and sharp. As she tried to sit up, she winced in pain, feeling the searing sensation in her arm intensify. She gingerly touched the area only to realize it was bandaged tightly. She furrowed her brows as panic began to rise within her as the memories of the day's events flooded her mind.

Hermione's heart sank as the memories flooded back—being captured by Death Eaters, Voldemort's insidious plans to conquer the muggle world, and Draco Malfoy was the most ruthless Death Eater known to man.

She couldn't believe him! After all this time he was there right beside her on the battlefield. Slaughtering, and butchering the people they grew up with. They weren't friends back at Hogwarts hardly even close. But she used to think there was maybe something redeemable about him. She thought he was forced into this lifestyle because of his parents, because of the pure-blood royalty he came from. She used to admire him almost, for being so determined and strong-willed and so dedicated to his family. She thought after the battle of Hogwarts he went into hiding with Narcissa and Lucius. Everyone saw them concede after they realized Harry was still alive. Hermione always imagined they had run off; they were hiding somewhere far away from all of this.

She took a deep breath as she tried to get her bearings straight. She looked around and her blood ran cold, she recognized this place, she recognized the cold grey walls.

She was in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor. She felt a wave of nausea hit her as the gravity of her situation dawned on her. Panic began to build in the back of her throat, it suddenly became hard to breathe. The pain in her arm was excruciating. She couldn't remember anything that happened after Voldemort invaded her mind. She didn't remember injuring her arm and she certainly didn't remember bandaging it up.

As she struggled to push herself up from the cold concrete floor, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the dimly lit room. She clutched her arm to her chest as she backed away until she hit the wall behind her. In a state of panic, she started to undo the wrap around her arm, ignoring the throbbing, searing pain that followed. She managed to rip a small slit into the wrap when his voice flooded her ears.

"I wouldn't do that if i were you. It's best to keep it covered for the first few days."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she looked up to see it was him—Draco Malfoy was approaching her. His cold silver eyes glint in the dim light. He looked older, different. Not at all how she remembered him. His tall lean frame cast long shadows against the cold stone walls. His posture was straight and purposeful, as if every step he took was calculated and deliberate. Hermione couldn't help but notice how different he looked from the boy she had once known in school.

His platinum hair was sleek and perfectly styled. Gone was the boyish arrogance she remembered; in its place was a cold, steely determination that masked any trace of his youth. His face was solid, with no trace of emotion as he walked towards her. His eyes were a cold steel grey, his gaze fixed on hers.