Eight.

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Hermione's feet found themselves landing on a slack of ice on a pavement in a small street.

But she didn't recognise her surroundings.

Draco had stepped forward into the path of a street light which bounced a yellow glare from his black hair. He kept walking for a moment, seeming slightly dizzy from the magical transportation until he stepped in-front of a row of terrace-houses.

They were made of red brick, all with small square windows on either sides of the doors. Her heart grew warm at the sight of Christmas reefs hanging from the doors and the glimpses of Christmas trees from inside the windows. She hadn't even considered the fact it would be Christmas soon. This was the first Christmas she would spend alone.

Well, as alone as it could be if she spent it with Draco.

"Where are we?" Hermione noticed the mist that fell from her mouth as she spoke. The cold had embraced her like a tight hug but she hadn't taken a moment to notice.

"Southwark." Draco's voice was short. His breath seemed staggered, like he was nervous. "In London."

While she questioned if being in London was the safest location to try and hide from angry Death Eaters, she more-so questioned why he had decided to bring them here in the first place. It seemed awfully open, in the middle of a housing estate filled with occupants.

Much different from the wonky hotel and boathouse that had been rather secluded. Secluded didn't mean safe, Hermione reminded herself. Both locations had ended in disaster.

She opened her mouth to press questions, but Draco had pulled out his wand and pointed it towards two attached houses. He whispered something she couldn't hear and before she had time to consider it, the ground was rumbling beneath her feet and the houses were parting, exposing another house of slightly darker brick in the middle.

The actions had reminded her of her first visit to Grimmauld Place. Yet the new house was slightly more harrowing, with a broken window, mulled with cobwebs and dust sitting on the door handle.

It seemed untouched. For many years.

Draco took a deep breath beside her, before checking over his left and right shoulder and heading towards the house. Hermione had remained stunned on the pavement. Draco paused and turned back, grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the door.

"If you want to ask stupid questions-" Draco started, pausing to whisper Alohamora to unlock the door before continuing. "-Ask them later."

She nodded.

The interior of the house was slightly different from the initial appearance she had been hit with on the street. It was dark, with dark walls and dark wooden floors and little light, merely lit by a small glass chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling. The glass clanged as the house rumbled back into its hiding space.

"Follow me." Hermione disliked that he was ordering her around, but he seemed too on edge to argue with.

As he walked, he used his wand like a weapon, doing what Hermione assumed to be checking for protective wards or traps. It was suspicious to her that he knew to check in all the right places, but she didn't let her mind settle on it.

They ended up in a small living-dining room, which held nothing more than a round black table and a beryl coloured sofa. It looked as though it was made of velvet.

She tried to not let her eyes dwell on the details of her surroundings. But she was a rather nosey person. Her eyes fell onto the paintings on the walls-they weren't paintings, yet small sketches in black pencil, held by a glass panels and black frames. They filled the walls, from the kitchen to the living area. It was too dim inside to work out what the sketches were.

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