Captured

Secrets Ch.9

The chill of November wrapped around Hogwarts like a shroud, making the familiar castle seem more foreboding than ever. Hermione had just returned from a clandestine meeting with the Order, her heart still racing from the urgency of the discussions. The weight of their plans pressed heavily on her, the realities of war looming ever closer.

As she entered the dimly lit corridor, she paused for a moment to steady her breath. The news they had shared was alarming, but it felt good to be involved, to be fighting for the cause even if it meant hiding in the shadows. She glanced around, ensuring no one was watching before she made her way toward her dormitory.

The castle was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that seemed to hold its breath in anticipation. Each footstep echoed in her mind, reminding her of the danger that lurked beyond the walls. As she neared her dormitory, her thoughts whirled. Would she be able to find Harry and Ron soon? Would they still be safe?

Suddenly, just as she reached the door to her room, she heard a voice behind her.

"Hermione."

Her heart skipped a beat. She turned slowly to find Draco Malfoy leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed, a smirk dancing on his lips. His silver-blonde hair glinted in the dim light, and his eyes held a dangerous spark.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Hermione felt a rush of panic wash over her, but she quickly gathered her wits. "Oh, I was just... um, getting some fresh air. I couldn't sleep."

Draco stepped closer, invading her space, his smirk widening. "Fresh air? At this hour? Sounds like a flimsy excuse for sneaking around. You know, it's not safe out here for little Gryffindors like you."

She met his gaze, refusing to let him intimidate her. "I can take care of myself, Malfoy. I'm not afraid of the dark."

His eyes narrowed, the playful facade falling away to reveal something more sinister. "You should be. The shadows are where the real danger lies. Or maybe you're just looking for a thrill?"

Hermione bristled, her anger bubbling to the surface. "What do you want, Draco? You seem awfully interested in my well-being tonight."

He leaned against the wall, feigning casualness, but the tension crackled in the air between them. "Just curious, that's all. You've been awfully quiet lately. Not much fun without your little sidekicks, are you?"

"That's rich coming from you," she shot back, her voice steady despite her rising irritation. "You're the one who always enjoyed playing the part of the villain."

He chuckled softly, a low, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "You're not wrong. But I prefer the term 'pragmatist.' While you and your friends are busy playing hero, I'm just trying to survive. There's a difference, you know?"

Hermione felt a mix of frustration and concern. "Surviving isn't enough, Draco. You're better than this. You have a choice, but you're too blinded by your family's expectations to see it."

"Expectations?" he echoed, stepping closer. "You think I care about what they want? I do what I have to, and if that means being a Slytherin while you play at being a Gryffindor, then so be it."

Her heart raced at his words. "You're better than this, Draco. You don't have to play their game."

"Maybe I like playing games," he replied, his smirk returning. "Maybe it's fun to watch you all scramble around like chickens without heads."

"Is that what you think of us?" she shot back, her voice rising in anger. "You think we're just pawns in your little game?"

Draco leaned in, his voice low and dangerous. "You'd be surprised how often pawns can become players, Hermione. You're just too busy to notice."