Lies, Buried and Bound - A Dramione Story

Part Twenty

A/N: A shorter chapter, but it's all coming together

Draco's start to their chase was severely lacking. Years of inactivity slowed him down significantly.

"Hermione, please - " She turned a corner where, straight ahead,

He was at an impasse with her.

"Shit, shit!" Draco threw his hands up and raked them through his hair. Kicking the banister beside him, he screamed, "Fuck!"

--

Besides beating erratically from sprinting upstairs and through god-forsaken corridors, Hermione's heart soared when her eyes met his.

This was happening, whether she liked it or not. There was nothing she could do. And in a split second, Hermione decided that Draco-be-damned, she would find her daughter first and foremost. Finding Charlotte was all that mattered to her.

But Draco...

No!

She came to an abrupt halt at a division of hallways. Hermione hadn't the faintest idea where she was, which floor, or even what wing of the manor she was on. Fearing that Draco might be hot on her heels, she darted for the left side.

The corridors were impervious to light and she was afraid her boots would hit an unknown obstacle, sending her crashing. She passed a door whose handle was flipped upright and an empty portrait frame.

"Charlotte?" she called.

--

At the crossroad, so to speak, he heard her voice ring out again. "Charlotte!"

It was coming from the left.

He chased after the sound of her voice, letting his heart control his actions. Though he wasn't entirely convinced his brain would've decided differently. Both had the same goal of finding her.

"Hermione!"

He understood that she was looking for someone, and he knew it must be that little girl whose arm he had healed yesterday. But he refused to ask himself why she was calling for her and wouldn't ask what their connection could be.

He was afraid he wouldn't like the answer.

In the darkness, he made out a lighter figure and ran towards that. "Hermione, please wait!"

At last, she seemed to slow down.

This was the third time she'd identified a strange, upward-twisting door handle and a black frame devoid of moving portraits. She was travelling in circles.

"Hermione, please." She spun around to face him, and he could barely make out the shiny streaks of tears that lined her face. He slowly approached her, reaching out for her - just a touch. "There's nowhere else to go. This corridor doesn't extend any farther than this. This is Trickster's Corridor - it doesn't end! You're just trapping yourself."

This game of cat and mouse was not faring his stomach well, and his side ached with a stitch he couldn't suppress. He could feel his fingers and neck beat seemingly of their own accord, and he could taste coppery bile crawling up his throat.

She shook her head indignantly. "No, I have - I have to go, please. Draco, let me go."

He was gently cuffing her bicep, but oh, he wished to hold her in a more loving and intimate way! His grip didn't falter.

"We need to talk, please, just - I see how distraught you are. Let me help," he pleaded softly. "I can help."

Draco leaned in, wondering how much closer she'd let him stay - wondering if she'd let him in.