In Love & Hatred - Dramione

Chapter 35 - Presage

"Did you hear that?"

Her focus catered only to their venture to safety and took little notice of much else. "What did you hear?"

"That.. howl.."

Panic seized her breath and heartbeat. The connotation of the howl only presented probable dread and despair. Her grip tightened on his overcoat. "It couldn't have been close.."

"Not likely that it was.. We should hurry in the chance that it may be soon."

The doors stretched further as the iced stairs threatened to injure her as well. Conquering the last steps, they crept inward from the creaking doors into the warmth of the burning sconces. Distant voices sauntered through the halls of the students that had not yet retired to their chambers.

"Draco, we should go to the hospital wing. Madame Pomphrey will need to look at your leg in the chance that it may be broken."

"No. No hospital wing.."

"But, Draco-"

"If we go to the hospital wing, Madame Pomphrey will insist on asking questions I am not inclined to answer. Secondly, she will force you to leave and return back to your quarters. Besides, you wouldn't force me to spend Christmas alone now, would you?" His signature grin managed to find its way to his expression through the beaten pain.

Slightly shocked and amused by his charm, even through the last wretched hour, she paused to absorb his witty retort. "Well, I suppose I wouldn't ask you to brave such a horrid concept," she humored his banter, "However, where could we possibly go?"

"Well, there is always our Room of Requirement."

"Perhaps so, but Draco, that is seven flights of stairs. There is no possible chance we could make it in your condition let alone be caught by anyone who may be observing curfew soon. I suppose we could go to my room. Most of the Gryffindors are gone so we would not need to worry about bypassing many onlookers."

Draco acquiesced to her alternative and attempted to make longer strides up the ever-changing stairwells and to the familiar portrait of the snarky, large woman. The Fat Lady was hosting a miss-matched gathering in her frame when Hermione and Draco approached. Stained wine glasses littered the bottom of the canvas along with a nearly comatose Roman soldier in a toga hiccuping on the floor at the Fat Lady's feet.

"Hem, hem," Hermione coughed.

The Fat Lady wailed Christmas carols poorly with a gaunt woman dressed in a pest-infested powdered wig and rose coattails. Their lyrics were vague at best as they stumbled through an unheard tune of Saint Nicholas.

"Hem, hem," Hermione coughed once more.

"Shh, shh! Not now! We were right in the middle of something!" The Fat Lady held up her finger. "Now, dear Maive, where were we?"

"I believe we were trying to decipher the next verse of.." The voice of the woman in the wig trailed away as she released an inebriated hiccup, "of.. Ye Merry Clause.. No, Ye Merry Santa.. Santa pants.. Fat man!"

Hermione's patience had far spread thin. "Holly and nettles," she interrupted.

"My dear Maive! I do believe you are drunk!" The Fat Lady clapped her hands together.

"Holly and nettles..:" Hermione enunciated through grit teeth.

"Ugh! Alright, alright! Pass through, I suppose."

The portrait swung forward as giggles and hiccups erupted from the painting. Draco had moved out of sight and slid into the opening undetected. Hermione gestured for him to stay in the hole while she ensured a safe passage. Smoldering embers glowed in the blackened firebox as two second years slept awkwardly in the winged armchairs. Festive paper littered the floor around the pair of exploding knick knacks and seasonal sweets.