A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Fifty-Two

"I know."

Blaise blinks, faltering in his step as Harry's back disappears into the Sitting Room. "What is it with you Gryffindors actually being quite intelligent? And clever? Isn't that a Slytherin attribute?"

"It is, but that doesn't mean it can only be a Slytherin attribute. It's just one of the most prominent ones. You act like all of Gryffindor is stupid and brave and that's it.

"Anyway, Rowle was one of the ones that chased us during the Hunt last year. During his trial, they allowed him free reign to a certain perimeter, certain areas he could visit as long as he was accompanied by an Official," Harry nods up at the surrounding walls. "This was one of them."

"How do you know that?" Blaise hurries forward to catch a glimpse of Harry's face. "That was a closed trial."

"I have to attend all briefings to do with Death Eaters because I'm Harry Potter. Actually, I'm supposed to be present for all of them except Ministry Official ones but I only go to the Death Eater ones. You know," Harry grins like it's an inside joke. "Personal reasons and all that."

"But if Thorfinn Rowle was allowed access to the Manor, that makes him a primary suspect."

"Don't forget about Lucius," Harry points out.

"That's null and void. The only way Lucius could have kidnapped her would have been sane. And that is one thing he is not. And even if he was, he wouldn't get that far. Everyone knows who he is, he's an Unforgivable. His magical trace wouldn't be hard to find. Besides, if he was missing it would have been all over the Prophet."

Harry lifts a brow. "Now, look who's the clever one."

"That only leaves Fernus Fugate to rule out," Blaise ignores his comment, following next to Harry as he points his Lumos in the direction they're heading. "Which, that name isn't in any of the pure-blood history books. And it isn't part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight."

"Well," Harry sighs. "If anyone's got a bigger library than Hogwarts, it'll be Malfoy Manor."

The Slytherin blinks over at Harry, who just shrugs and motions with his lit wand.

"Lead the way."

*******

Draco twists his lips to the side.

There's been this nagging in his chest for the last few hours, a hollow pit next to his heart that keeps pushing at his lungs and making him breathless. He brings a hand to it and pushes against it to try and relieve some of the discomfort but it doesn't help.

The Common Room is serenely absent of busybodies. The two Ravenclaw girls that were doimg their homework had long finished and packed their bags before retiring to their quarters, and even Hermione was gone, eating with Neville and Seamus in the Great Hall.

Any fire from the fireplace had died and left the room in a tangent of cool and warm air, and Draco's skin would take turns with goosebumps and without, along with the recurring bothersome feeling in his body.

He stands, and the book he had been religiously reading becomes abandoned, shuffling on the cushions until finally lying face up. Draco looks around absently, his gaze landing upon the blank canvas of the Entrance Portrait.

His steps are slow, staggering like his breath from the expansion of the pit in his chest, and his hand stays over it, pressing. When he gets to it, only a few feet before the cream brushstrokes, a specific tug at his lungs makes him gasp and he bends forward, his other hand landing on the frame to keep himself upright.

"Baira," he chokes out.

As usual, it's a few moments until the booming steps of the lion breach the frame of the portrait, and Baira's golden-amber eyes train themselves on Draco's form. "Master Draco, do you find yourself well?"