Bound by Fate

Chapter 7: Into the Dark

The night was silent, with only the occasional crackle of the fire in the hearth breaking the stillness that had settled over Malfoy Manor. Draco stood in the hallway, his mind racing. The house was quiet, everyone else long asleep, but his heart pounded in his chest like a drum. He had been pacing his room for hours, debating whether or not to do what he was about to do. Every fiber of his being told him to stop, to retreat, to leave her alone. But the pull was too strong.

He couldn't leave her like that—broken and alone, trapped in a room that felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. Not after everything. He didn't know if he could help, didn't know if she would even listen to him, but he had to try.

Draco moved down the hall, the soft thud of his footsteps barely audible as he made his way to her room. His hand hovered over the door for a moment, a brief hesitation flickering through his mind. Was this a mistake? Would she even come with him?

Taking a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles gently on the wooden door.

Inside, Hermione stirred, her body tense with the sound of the knock. Sleep had been elusive, slipping through her fingers like water, and the knock startled her. Her first instinct was to ignore it. But something about the soft, almost hesitant sound made her pause.

"Granger," Draco whispered through the door, his voice low and soft, as if he were trying not to wake anyone else. "It's me. Open the door."

Hermione's pulse quickened at the sound of his voice. Her body tensed instinctively, her mind racing with suspicion. What does he want? she thought, her fingers clenching the blanket around her. For a moment, she debated whether to respond. Draco's sudden appearances unnerved her, and she wasn't sure she could trust him. But curiosity, mixed with a strange kind of exhaustion, tugged at her.

Slowly, reluctantly, she slipped out of bed, her body protesting the movement with sharp pains. She padded quietly to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open just a crack to peer at him.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice hoarse from disuse.

Draco stood there, his face partially shadowed by the dim light in the hallway. His expression was unreadable, a mix of something she couldn't quite place—regret? Guilt? It was hard to tell. But there was a softness in his eyes that startled her.

"I need you to come with me," he whispered, his tone urgent but not threatening. "There's something I want to show you."

Hermione frowned, her body tensing again. "Why should I go anywhere with you?"

"Please," Draco said, his voice dropping even lower. "Just trust me. This isn't... this isn't what you think."

Hermione's chest tightened, her mind racing. Her instincts screamed at her to say no, to shut the door and retreat back into the relative safety of her room. But there was something in Draco's voice, something almost... desperate. It made her pause.

After a long moment, she nodded slightly, stepping back from the door and letting it swing open fully.

Draco hesitated for a brief second before stepping inside. "Thank you," he muttered, relief flickering in his eyes. "Come on. We don't have much time."

Hermione glanced around, her nerves still on edge, but something about his urgency pulled her forward. She followed him out into the hallway, her bare feet cold against the stone floor as they moved in near silence. Draco didn't speak, and neither did she. The tension between them hung thick in the air, but for the first time, it didn't feel suffocating.

He led her through the darkened halls, the manor's oppressive weight pressing down on them as they moved deeper into its heart. Hermione's mind spun with questions. Where is he taking me? Why?

They turned a corner, and suddenly, they were in front of an arched wooden door Hermione hadn't seen before. She frowned, confused, until Draco pushed the door open and stepped inside, revealing the room beyond.

The library.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

The room was massive, towering shelves lined with books from floor to ceiling, each shelf filled with more knowledge than Hermione could have imagined. The faint smell of parchment and ink filled the air, and a soft, dim light illuminated the space, casting shadows over the worn leather armchairs and mahogany tables scattered throughout.

Hermione's heart twisted in her chest. She hadn't seen a library in what felt like years. It was a reminder of everything she had loved before—the comfort of books, the solace of knowledge. For a moment, the horror of her current reality faded, replaced by the familiar warmth of a place that felt almost like home.

Draco stood by the door, watching her with an unreadable expression. He saw the way her eyes lit up, the way her breath hitched as she took in the room. He knew, somehow, that this was what she needed. He wasn't sure why he had brought her here, but something had told him that this was where she belonged. At least for a little while.

Hermione stepped forward, her fingers brushing over the spines of the nearest books. Her heart ached with longing, with the desire to lose herself in their pages, to forget everything outside of these walls. She didn't say anything, didn't ask why Draco had brought her here. She just... was. For the first time since her capture, she allowed herself to breathe.

Draco shifted slightly, unsure of what to say. He hadn't expected this. He had thought she might be suspicious, might refuse to follow him. But now, seeing her so still, so... at peace, he realized that maybe, for once, he had made the right choice.

"You... you can stay here as long as you want," Draco said quietly, breaking the silence.

Hermione blinked, her fingers still tracing the spines of the books. She glanced at him, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?" she asked softly.

Draco swallowed, his throat tight. He didn't know how to explain it, didn't know if she would believe him even if he tried. But he had to say something.

"I thought... I thought you might need this," he muttered, his eyes darting away from hers. "I don't know why. I just... I know how much the library meant to you at Hogwarts. I thought... maybe..."

Hermione stared at him, her mind spinning. She wanted to ask why he cared. Why he was doing this. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she let the moment hang in the air between them, fragile and tentative.

For the first time since her capture, Hermione didn't feel like a prisoner. She felt something different. It wasn't trust—not yet—but it was something. Something she wasn't ready to name.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Draco nodded stiffly, as if her gratitude was something he didn't know how to handle. "I'll... leave you to it," he muttered, turning toward the door. But before he left, he paused, his hand resting on the doorframe.

"If you ever need anything," he said quietly, not looking at her, "you can come here. No one will bother you."

With that, he slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Hermione stood in the silence, her heart pounding. She didn't know what Draco's intentions were, didn't know if she could trust him. But for the first time since she had been brought to Malfoy Manor, she didn't feel like she was suffocating.

For now, that was enough.