daughter of wands (d.m)

VIII

Something inside me tells me to stay hidden so I duck behind a pillar a little closer to where he was standing. He must hear my footsteps, his breath coming to a complete stop as the hallway becomes completely silent.

I shut my eyes instinctively, my face scrunching up as I wait for him to find me, but he never does.

Against my better judgement, I peak my head around pillar and watch carefully as he stands with his back to me. Once again he's stiff and rigid, his back rising and falling as the wall begins to change before him.

A vine slithers up either side and creating a large door, his open palm reaching out to turn the handle. It opens without a creak and he slips in without looking back.

"Another common room?" I whisper to myself, my brow furrowing in confusion.

My gut twists anxiously but curiosity getting the better of me, I follow him. With his frame completely out of view I pick up my pace and enter the room as quietly as I can.

It's not what I expect and certainly not another common room. It's dusty and filled from top to bottom with random items. I search around me for anything that my signify what this place is or what in the world Draco could be doing here but find nothing.

I'm pretty sure I've lost him in the vastness of the room when I hear a noise a little way in front of me. I duck down behind a dresser of drawers and peak through a little slit between them, being careful not to make any noise.

Sure enough, Draco stands in front of a large triangle shaped object twice his size. He looks around it for a while before ripping off the cape that covers it, revealing a deep oak cabinet. He tosses something between his two hands as he paces in front of it, a sigh escaping his lips.

I pinch my bottom lip between my teeth as I attempt to move a little closer. I inspect the furniture around me and tip toe behind a record player that seems to only scratch out one note, hoping the noise will help conceal my footsteps.

I feel ridiculous watching him like this, like I'm some sort of stalker following their victim home at night. But no matter how hard I try to will my legs back to the entrance, they refuse to go.

I crouch down and observe as he walks back and forth trying to decide what to do. He runs his hand over the carvings in the wood and rests his fingers on the brass handle.

He opens it cautiously, the discoloration on the inside walls indicating that something went once went incredibly wrong. He leans over and places whatever he had in his hand at the bottom and closes the door.

He waits patiently in front of the cabinet, both of us staring with unblinking eyes as we wait for something to happen. He whispers quietly under his breath, a spell maybe?

He stands unmoving for another minute before opening the door again, bending over and picking up what he placed there before. He seems displeased, a sigh escaping loud enough I could hear it over the scratches.

He tries once more, this time muttering something longer and waiting a little longer after he closes the door. Nothing happens and after a few minutes he exhales, recovers the cabinet with the cape, and begins to pace.

He runs a shaky hand through his blonde hair and all at once I remember where I recognized him from. I knew I had seen him before we started classes, the constant thought of him nagging in the back of my mind.

He's the boy I saw in Diagon Alley the other day, the one who disappeared between the buildings with his mother. This has to be him, who else has such a platinum hair.

He must have an idea because his eyes travel from the cabinet to the clutter around him, his hands running across a few boxes strewn on the floor.

He rummages through some of them before holding up a black velvet box. He opens it cautiously, another sigh escaping his lips as he removed the cloth inside.

He stares at it for a moment with hopeful eyes before closing the package and tucking it away under his arm, heading for the exit.

My heart jumps into my throat as I realize once Draco leaves I may not know how to get out. We didn't have rooms like this at Ilvermorny, what if it's only accessible from the outside?

I scramble to my feet and, as quietly as I can, race to catch up with him. I only make it a few steps away when I remember I've left my bag by the record player.

I furrow my brow and slap myself on the forehead for my stupidity as I turn back around. I grip my fingers around the handle and pivot on my heel making a beeline for the door.

But as I shift, almost in slow motion, my bag knocks against the record player and the scratching stops as the turntable wobbles and the vinyl comes crashing to the ground.

****