Draco Sinister

Chapter Five - The Undiscovered Country

As astonished as Draco was to see Hermione, he was even more astonished by the look on her face. She looked as horrified as if she had seen a ghost -- and not just any ghost. The ghost of someone she loved.

"Hermione?" he said. "Are you - are you all right?"

She stared at him, still with the same awful, blank expression. "Oh, no," she said. "Not you."

He stared at her.

"I suppose you're here to rescue me," she said flatly, looking as if she were going to burst into tears.

"I-well, yes," he replied, floored. "Shall I come back at a more convenient time?"

"Why couldn't you have been Harry?" she said, still staring at him distractedly. "Is he all right? Why isn't he here?"

Draco stared at her. He hadn't expected a really big welcome, but this was ridiculous. "There were these veelas..." he began, awkwardly. "And Harry's fine, he's waiting outside. And my God, Hermione, what'd you do to Pettigrew?" he added, staring over her shoulder.

Hermione turned around, following his glance, and saw Wormtail lying sprawled on his back in the straw. Apparently, when she had kicked him, it had been in the face. The straw around his head was dark with blood.

"I hit him," she said shortly.

"I should say you did," agreed Draco, rather impressed. Then he shook his head, as if clearing it of cobwebs. "Is he the one who was keeping you here?" he demanded.

Hermione shook her head listlessly. "No."

"So there's someone else here-someone more evil, more powerful?"

Hermione nodded yes.

"Right," said Draco, and seized her arm. "We're going." Hermione didn't seem to want to move, so Draco began dragging her behind him down the hallway. She trailed him unwillingly, glancing behind her every few steps as if she expected them to be followed.

"Do you know the way out?" he asked her, panting a little as he tugged on her arm. "And would you hurry up?"

"No, I don't know the way out," she replied in a leaden voice. "I don't think there is one - and he's around here somewhere, he's not going to let us just leave-"

"Who's he? Voldemort?"

She laughed hollowly. "Voldemort? No."

They reached the top of a wide staircase, carved of pitted stone, that swept down to what looked like it had once been an entrance hall.

Draco could see the dim outline of broken pillars and a cracked marble floor. He turned and looked at Hermione, who was still looking blank, stunned, and miserable. "Can you make it down the stairs?"

"I am perfectly fine," she said, in a clipped voice.

"Okay..." He looked at her, bewildered, shook his head, and started down the steps. She followed him, walking slowly. He had to resist the urge to hurry her forward in exasperation. I don't know what she's been through, he reminded himself. Anything could have happened to her - anything at all. He cast a sideways look at her.

She looked all right - tired, of course, and with that mother-of-pearl shine under her eyes that meant that she'd been crying. There was a cut on her lip that looked as if she'd bitten it, but other than that she seemed unhurt. "Hermione," he said suddenly, turning towards her. "Look, you don't have to talk to me, but just tell me if you're all right. Just nod, will you?"

"Such concern," said a voice behind them. "How very endearing."

They both turned; Draco quickly, Hermione more slowly, as if she dreaded what she might see.