Draco Malfoy and the Girl Who Hid

43

The doors to the Malfoy Manor shut with an unsettling finality behind him, but Draco could hardly care. His plan had been accepted, and for the first time in days, he felt a weight lift from his chest. Voldemort had actually embraced his idea, giving Draco a semblance of control. He rushed through the corridors, his footsteps echoing against the cold marble as he made his way to his room—Yn's room now.

As he slipped inside, he noticed Yn lying on the bed, her breaths shallow and her face pale. She stirred slightly, her head turning toward him as he moved quickly, grabbing a satchel from the side of the bed and shoving things into it—some clothes, a few vials of potions, whatever he could grab without much thought.

Yn's weak voice reached him, barely above a whisper. "What...what are you doing?" Her eyes were glassy, and her brow was creased with confusion.

Draco didn't stop packing, only glancing at her over his shoulder. "We're getting out of here," he muttered, words hurried. He moved to her side, gently pulling her to a sitting position.

Her hand, icy cold in his, sent a shiver up his spine, and he intertwined his fingers with hers, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Come on," he urged, his voice low and insistent, trying to hide the fear that was clawing at him. He'd never defied the Dark Lord like this, not really, and certainly not for someone else.

Yn looked at him, her expression a mixture of exhaustion and bewilderment. "Where...where are we going?" she asked, barely able to hold herself up as she leaned heavily against him.

Draco's jaw clenched, his mind racing. "Anywhere but here," he murmured, avoiding her gaze. He didn't have a solid plan, only a desperate need to get her out, to keep her safe.

He helped her to her feet, one arm around her shoulders to steady her as they made their way toward the door. Yn was quiet, her breaths shallow and laboured, and Draco could feel her trembling beneath his touch. But she didn't protest, didn't question him further. For the first time, he felt a glimmer of hope, a flicker of something that might be enough to pull them both from this nightmare.

They had barely made it down the hallway when Narcissa appeared at the end, her figure casting a slender shadow in the dimly lit corridor. She looked at them with an expression of surprise that quickly morphed into concern. "Draco," she called, her voice soft but firm, her eyes flicking between him and Yn. "What are you doing?"

Draco stopped short, his hold on Yn tightening instinctively. He straightened, meeting his mother's gaze with a look of determination. "I'm getting her out of here, Mother," he replied, his tone fierce. "It's the only way."

Narcissa approached, her face a mask of worry as she reached out, sweeping a strand of hair from Draco's forehead. Her touch was gentle, her fingers lingering for a moment. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his.

Draco met her gaze with a look of unyielding resolve. "Yes, Mother," he replied, his voice steady. "Trust me."

Narcissa sighed, her hand dropping back to her side. She looked at Yn, her expression softening with pity. "You realize what you're risking, don't you?" she murmured, her gaze returning to Draco. "She's dangerous, Draco. She could turn on you in an instant, manipulate your mind, make you question everything you think you know."

Draco felt a surge of defensiveness, his grip on Yn tightening as he squared his shoulders. "I know what I'm doing," he insisted, his tone sharper than he intended. "I have to do this, Mother. She needs me."

Narcissa's eyes filled with a sadness that made Draco's heart ache, and she reached out, touching his cheek with a tenderness that belied her worry. "Then go," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "But be careful, Draco. She's not like us. She has a fire that could burn you alive."