𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨

HERMIONE swallowed hard at the sight of the old, vacant manor.

She meant to come here a few days ago, but couldn't get further than the gates, her torture within the grounds still haunting her, as well as those who had died here.

She may not have known them directly—but they were people who did not deserve to die, and that was enough to cause her nausea.

Not today. She would finally do it today—she had to, for her friend's benefit.

The wind howled ferociously, ripping at her cloak as she stood so small in front of those tall, large black gates, the letter 'M' embedded in the centre.

Hermione trembled the longer she waited. She could hear her screaming in her head. She had to ignore it. She knew that.

It's for Malfoy, she reminded herself.

She then puckered up her courage and her might and stepped through the magically enforced gateway.

The cold air instantly met her warm skin for a brief moment as the tail of her cloak dragged behind her slightly. Shockwaves from the contrast began to spread across her back. She gasped at this.

She kept her eyes trained on her feet; the fear of seeing where she was headed and fleeing floating in the back of her mind. She knew herself too well to cave.

She was aware of how close she was to the first stone step up to the manor—slowly forcing herself to drive forwards. It put her on the edge tremendously, even jumping when something as small as a leave crunched underneath her shoe.

She caught her breath—her heartbeat blaring through her ears and in her throat. She shut her eyes and inhaled, collecting herself for a short moment.

The curve of the bottom step came into her view and she halted, knowing what would happen if she approached any further. A coiling inside her stomach urged her to turn around. But she was too strong, she often had to remind herself. And with that, she ascended the stairs.

She couldn't help but shudder as she drew closer to the large entryway, almost intimidating her. She shut her eyes as her feet moved, unable to face where she was headed. 

And then, there were no more steps.

Hermione slowly batted her eyes open, peering at the engraved symbols on the dark oak in front of her. She wondered why it was always dark oak. Her gaze followed the patterns, as though she were falling into a trance. It acted as a distraction—she needed that.

She withdrew her hand from her pocket and balled it into a fist, colliding with the wood in front of her as hard as she could manage. The door creaked open within a few seconds, informing her that it was indeed abandoned.

It was known to her that no person lived here—but the chances of one of their house elves still fulfilling their duties to the property wasn't entirely impossible.

Her hand flattened against the door and pushed it further, wedging her body in between the small slit to enter through. 

A gasp wrenched from her throat as the door fitted back into the frame, an echo rippling within the long corridor. She cringed, her nails curling into the heel of her palm as her eyes instantly squeezed shut. She waited for a few seconds before moving.

Hermione treaded lightly along the hard marble floor of the corridor; her steps so bare she couldn't even hear when her foot landed. 

She didn't dare look up, too afraid to be faced with the dirty grimaces of the Malfoy family portraits throughout the generations. They knew who she was—they had seen her before.