| Jarvey
Join Date: Feb 2011 Location: Orlando, FL
Posts: 666
Hogwarts RPG Name:
Melina Morninglory- "Glory"
Second Year
Ministry RPG Name:
Violet Downing
Minister's Office |  WizWorld Universal / Tom Felton for President
Chapter 30: The Road to Safety
6 Jan. (dawn)
They left the chaos of the corridor behind, hearing less and less of Bellatrix’s shrieks as they traveled further away. “It’s not much further,” Draco assured Hermione as he carefully helped her up. He finally had a moment to transfigure his jacket into suitable clothing for her-a soft green sweater and black sweatpants, followed by simple black boots that he conjured.
The pain potion was taking effect, giving Hermione the strength to stand with assistance. She slung an arm over Draco’s shoulders and he propped her up with a hand under her other arm. Slowly, he helped her hobble forward. Even though they were safe for the moment, Draco didn’t know how long that safety would last.
At last, they came to a solid stone wall- or what appeared to be one. Draco uttered a simple incantation and gave a swish of his father’s wand. The wall disappeared as if it were nothing more than a smokescreen. On the other side of the enchanted wall was a large room, lined with shelves of differing sizes. On the shelves were devices quite incongruous for the home in which they were stored. Hermione passed her gaze over the objects. Was that…a television? And that? A rifle, like the kind a soldier would carry. She stared in confusion and frustration.
“Why are there Muggle objects in here?” she asked as sharply as her injuries would allow.
“Over the years, Muggle artifacts have been acquired to be studied,” Draco replied simply, “in order to understand the advancements of Muggles and their capabilities. There are storerooms full of them in many locations.” He stopped speaking as he caught the look on her face, and cast his eyes downward as guilt washed over him.
“I see,” Hermione responded through gritted teeth, angry tears filling her eyes. “Of course, you’d want to study the habits of a lower species,” she spat.
Draco held her by the shoulders and gently turned her to face him. “Not me, Hermione,” he said, his eyes pleading with her.
A stray tear dotted her cheek. “It’s just getting worse. This war is really going to happen, isn’t it? I’m just so afraid of what’s to come, Draco,” she whispered despairingly, dropping her head on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek in the soft curls of her hair.
“So am I, love. Come on, let me take you away from all of this,” he whispered as her took her head from his chest and turned it up to face him. “No matter what we face in the future, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, Hermione.”
Her name still sounded strange on his lips, but was becoming more beautiful each time he said it. She looked up at him, feeling the intensity of his steel-grey eyes, and wanted desperately to believe him. On an impulse, she raised herself up on tiptoe and kissed him full on the lips. She clung to him, needed him, even as her mind struggled with the nearly incomprehensible fact that she was kissing Draco Malfoy.
Perhaps he really has changed, the voice in her head spoke. He put his own life on the line to save yours.
Draco was caught off guard by her lips, but recovered quickly and melted into her kiss, savoring the warmth and softness of her mouth against his. He wanted it to go on forever; it was the most tender kiss he’d ever felt, sweeter and more real than any other kiss he’d ever given or received. Just as he was about to reluctantly pull away Hermione broke the kiss, wincing in pain and drooping in exhaustion.
He caught her as her legs began to buckle. “We’ve got to get help,” he said, shaking himself back into the perilous reality of their situation. He helped her walk across the room and they crossed into another. Regardless of how weak she felt at the moment, her jaw dropped at the sight of the showroom.
“That’s…a car.”
Draco had already pulled the keys off a hook on the wall and was remote-opening the passenger door. “A ’96 Bentley Azure, to be exact. Finest Muggle vehicle in the world,” he replied almost off-handedly. He carefully lowered Hermione into the passenger seat, leaning it back a bit so she could rest.
“You can drive a car?!” she exclaimed, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
“I know, nearly impossible to believe- a Malfoy using something Muggle. You should alert the Daily Prophet,” he said wryly as he slid into the driver’s seat. “I learned primarily because I wasn’t supposed to know the car was there, and therefore certainly not supposed to learn how to operate it.” He gave a tiny smirk and turned the key in the ignition.
The luxury car was so quiet, Hermione wasn’t quite sure he’d actually started the thing. But he shifted into gear and, with barely a tap on the pedal, accelerated forward. The speed took Hermione by surprise, and she let out a small shriek. “Why do you have a car?” she asked weakly.
Draco hesitated. He didn’t want to share the real reason his father owned a Muggle vehicle. Over the last year, Death Eaters had begun experimenting with all sorts of Muggle equipment, searching for ways to use the Muggles’ own technology against them. Voldemort’s thought was that ordinary objects would draw no suspicion from the Muggles; therefore, the objects could easily be introduced back into society and cursed to harm or kill unassuming victims.
Just another weapon in the Dark Lord’s ever-growing arsenal, Draco thought with scorn. His father and a few others were studying the Bentley to determine what curses would allow the car to drive itself into a well-populated area and kill as many Muggles as possible. In the end, Draco settled for a simple answer. “My father wanted to see how it worked.”
They sped through the long underground tunnel, which was a little too narrow for Hermione’s comfort. Though she wanted to close her eyes and rest, she was too terrified that they were going to crash into the walls at any moment. Draco expertly handled the twists and turns of the tunnel, well-practiced at sneaking the car out while he taught himself how to drive. But Hermione clutched the handle of the door so tightly that her knuckles were as white as her face.
“Relax Hermione, please,” Draco implored, placing a reassuring hand on her leg while keeping his eyes fixed on the tunnel. “I told you, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Though still uneasy, Hermione closed her eyes and tried to follow his instructions. A moment later, they reached the end of the tunnel. A wandless incantation from Draco caused the seemingly solid wall ahead to slide open, and the car stole silently out of the Manor. Hermione sensed a change in the air and opened her eyes.
The world was still shaded in the dusky blue of early dawn, but the sky in the east was beginning to turn pink with the rising of the sun. Relief flooded through her; tears spilled down her cheeks as she looked out at the world she feared she’d never see again. She stared at the horizon as the first rays of the sun broke through the fading darkness of the sky. This morning, the sunrise meant more to her than ever before. This morning, it was her hope rising.
Draco shifted the car into high gear and raced his way through the cleverly-hidden roads on the Manor’s grounds. He’d removed his hand from Hermione to pull out his wand. He maneuvered the steering wheel with his right hand, his left hand gripping the wand and his eyes constantly scanning for trouble. As they passed over the borderline of the Malfoy property, Draco allowed himself only a momentary reprieve from worrying. He was certain he heard the shrill cry of a hawk nearby.
“Where are you taking us?” asked Hermione, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.
“Still working that out,” Draco replied. His voice was calm and confident, but Hermione still picked up the undertone of his concern.
“I need to find us a place to go that is outside of my father’s- well, any Death Eater’s- knowledge. He can find us,” Draco whispered, shuddering at the thought of the Dark Lord’s wrath. He glanced over at Hermione and noticed with dread that a spreading patch of red was seeping onto her sweater.
“I need to get you to a Healer soon,” he added, unable now to keep the anxiety out of his voice. They continued to speed through the countryside as Draco ran through possibility after possibility in his mind, rejecting each one with increasing aggravation. Hermione could see that he was on the edge of desperation.
She closed her eyes and entered a wrestling match with her conscience. She knew where they’d be safe, where she could get help and they could hide without worry. But six years of conditioning at school made her instinctively distrustful of Draco, regardless of his recent behavior.
She agonized over what choice to make; she wanted desperately to protect her protector, but was terrified that he’d turn on her. If that happened, she would put many more lives than her own in danger.
She looked over at him and studied his face. He was sweating and nervous, bordering on frantic. He felt her gaze and turned to her. “Are you alright? Hermione, what’s wrong? Are you hurting worse? Do you feel faint?” The raw fear in his eyes convinced her at once of his honesty.
“I know where we can go, Draco,” she said quietly.
“What? Where?” he asked, his body tensing with anticipation and hope.
“We need to go to Muggle London. To Number 12 Grimmauld Place.” |