Chapter 5
Dinner ended a short while later when everyone had finished taking advantage of the very liberal amount of food and drink that had been laid out that evening.
"A good night's sleep might be just what we need to brainstorm some good ideas tomorrow morning," Hermione suggested with a yawn as she stood up from the table. "I for one am exceptionally tired."
"Why don't we just get properly smashed instead and forget that we've been kidnapped," suggested Blaise, indicating the the large number of wine bottles still left in the ice bucket.
"Blaise, do as Granger says," drawled Draco. "Or she'll stab you with a spew badge."
"For the last time, Malfoy, it is S.P.E.W.!" Hermione cried in irritation. "Not spew."
"Whatever," he said dismissively. "The 'Potter Stinks' badges outdid your ones by a mile. I really ought to keep a stash on me to stab Blaise with when he gets particularly annoying. Thanks for the idea, Granger."
"Don't give me credit for your foolish idea. You know very well that I throw Unfogging theFuture at people's heads when they don't cooperate," said Hermione with a small smile.
"You're telling me you actually have a sense of humour, Granger?" butted in Blaise. "Have you been hiding it in your bird's nest hair all this time?"
Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little.
"No, Blaise, I've just gotten a bit tipsy for the first time in two years," Hermione replied with a giggle.
"Well if that's all it takes, do us all a favour and become a raging alcoholic for the rest of your life," said Blaise with a thumbs up.
Hermione rolled her eyes at him and waved him off. Blaise blew a kiss back at her and stumbled out of the room with Draco who gave Hermione a nod of acknowledgment and followed suit.
"Harmoniana, this letter has just arrived for you," said Viktor Krum, handing her the all too familiar sepia envelope with a black wax seal.
"Thank you, Viktor. Goodnight."
"Sleep well and have good dreams," he said with a bow, heading out of the dining room in the direction of the stairs.
Hermione tore the letter once again.
***
Room 105
***
They hadn't even bothered to address her in this letter. Clearly there was no need to lie about the nature of her stay at Myrtle Manor any longer. She sighed and slid the letter back into the envelope, stashing it alongside her other letter in her beaded bag.
Luna was staying in room 106 and so she followed the dainty blonde up the stairs and to the first floor corridor. Hermione counted eight doors. There were nine of them, weren't there? Perhaps there was a couple among them. Susan Bones and Justin Finch-Fletchley had always appeared rather close.
She waved goodbye to Luna and entered her room. It was much larger and more tastefully decorated than she had expected. There was a large four poster bed in the centre of the room, a mahogany wardrobe, a bedside table and an armchair. The curtains, bedsheets and walls were all a deep Gryffindor red.
The fake National Society for Elfish Welfare had really gone all out.
Hermione slipped off her shoes and collapsed on the bed, indulging in the comfort of the springy mattress and duvet, let out a long exhale. It had been a very long and wild evening.
She pulled her beaded bag off her shoulder and went to rest it on the bedside table when she noticed Tom's suitcase lying right beside it.
In that very moment, there was a knock at the door and Hermione groaned.
"Come in, it's open," Hermione yelled in slight annoyance. She sat herself up on the bed.
The door pushed open slowly. It was Tom.
"Oh, it's you," said Hermione.
Tom looked at her in surprise.
"Apologies for the disappointment, Miss Granger, I was coming to collect my suitcase."
Hermione couldn't help but laughing.
"Merlin, Riddle, I didn't mean it like that," she chuckled. "I was annoyed because I thought someone was coming here to bother me, but then I realised it was you. Coming for your suitcase."
She picked it up off the floor and walked over to hand it to him. "Here you go," she said with a smile.
He gave her an appreciative nod as he accepted it.
"Thank you. Goodnight, Miss Granger," he said, turning to slip back out into the corridor.
"Woah, woah, not so fast." Tom turned back around at this, raising an eyebrow quizzically at Hermione. "I have a feeling there's something you're not telling me. But what's new?"
The same eldritch smile. "Do enlighten me."
"I only counted eight rooms on this floor," she said slowly, eying his expression, waiting for the slightest drop of emotion to escape his mask. "My guess is that you drew the short straw of being roomless."
Tom looked almost pleased with Hermione, if the wizards could ever express such an emotion.
"Not much escapes your scrutiny, I see."
So there were no couples among them, she concluded.
"And where exactly do you plan to sleep?" she asked, tilting her head and resting her chin on her index finger and thumb.
"That is nothing for you to concern yourself with."
Hermione shook her head in disbelief.
"So you don't even know yourself," she tsked. "You'll end up sleeping on the floor of this corridor only to get tripped over by a drunk Blaise running to the toilet. If you're lucky, he might even vomit all over you."
"I must say the thought had not occurred to me. Perhaps I'll choose the downstairs corridor instead."
Hermione giggled once again.
"Tom Riddle telling a joke," she laughed. "I am astonished."
Tom looked down at the floor and said nothing.
"Oh, it wasn't a joke," said Hermione, pressing her hand to her forehead in embarrassment. "I might have had one goblet too many."
"I have slept in rougher conditions," he replied dismissively.
"You have?" Hermione asked in disbelief. She shouldn't really have been surprised, knowing how mysterious and reserved the man was. He could have been a spy for the Ministry of Magic for all she knew. "Well, I'm not going to stand for it under my watch. You'll sleep in here."
Tom's head immediately shot up. He looked entirely taken aback and was staring at Hermione so intently that she thought she must have chocolate smeared on her face from dessert earlier.
It took him a few moments to form a response.
"I appreciate the offer," he began slowly. "But there is no need to disturb yourself."
"Oh, no, I insist," Hermione continued.
Tom thought for a few moments.
"Alright," he said quickly.
"Excellent," Hermione said with a smile, beckoning him in and shutting the door behind him. "Which side of the bed do you want? I'm not picky."
Tom blinked in astonishment, as if the witch couldn't have had any more highly improper suggestions up her sleeve.
"That won't be necessary," he replied, feigning indifference. "The floor or armchair is more than sufficient."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said, rolling her eyes. As she looked at him, he realised he was quite serious. She had no intention to push him. "Well alright then, have it your way and take the armchair. I can't imagine it to be too comfortable for a night's sleep, but you are very hard to sway."
Tom didn't reply. He went over to the armchair and laid out his suitcase on top of it, unlocking it with his wand and lifting the lid. He pulled out a pair of green tartan pyjama bottoms.
"There might be a spare blanket for you in the wardrobe," she suggested, and Tom turned to watch her as she walked over to the mahogany structure and looked inside. A red wool blanket was folded and resting on the top shelf. "Bingo," she said triumphantly, reaching on her tip toes to retrieve it. Tom smiled and turned back around. Hermione chucked the blanket over to him and he caught it behind his back with his left hand.
"How on earth did you do that?" she asked, mouth open in amazement. He faced her with a glint in his eye and twirling the blanket around his hand. "I was trying to hit you with that."
"Didn't you know I had eyes in the back of my head?" he said with a smirk.
Hermione went back over to her bed with a smile stretched across her face. A proper joke this time. Had she finally got his mask to crack? No, that might have been a little optimistic. But a thin fissure was definitely starting to form.
"Have you brushed your teeth?" she asked.
"I did just before coming here," he replied, his brow slightly furrowed. It was an odd question to ask, but she was the daughter of two dentists after all and she couldn't help it.
"Excellent. I'll go brush mine now and get changed in the toilet," she announced. "You can change whilst I'm out."
She grabbed her beaded bag and headed for the toilet at the end of the corridor. Bit shabby from the fake elf rights society to not give them all en suites, she joked mentally.
For some reason, she could not wipe the smile off her face. It was stuck to her lips like glue. Must have been all the wine. She skipped her way down the corridor, swinging her bag to and fro.
As she passed some of the doors, she heard a few giggles and hushed whispers, but she paid no extraordinary attention to them, feeling too happy to care. She was being held hostage in a manor alongside eight other people. She was not supposed to be happy. The fates worked in weird ways.
The light was already on in the toilet, suggesting that someone was in there. Hermione groaned. Eight people sharing the one toilet on the first floor was going to be rough. Well, not rough for hostages, but that was irrelevant. She had absolutely no intention of trying to find one on another floor in the middle of the night and so she lightly pushed at the door.
Draco Malfoy was brushing his teeth at the sink, his hair a post-shower wet and wearing only a pair of light grey joggers. He turned to look at her and rolled his eyes. He spat the excess toothpaste down the sink and looked at Hermione.
"The fuck you doing here?" he asked, crossing his arms over his bare chest, just about covering the several thin white scars scattered across his breast. Hermione had to work very hard not to stare.
Hermione pulled her toiletry pouch out of her beaded bag and waved it in Draco's face.
"You're not the only one with teeth on this floor you know," she said shaking her head. "You're not special."
"Too bad, my mum always said I was very special," he mocked.
"Ha. Ha," said Hermione with a straight face. "Really witty, Malfoy."
"Fixes her teeth in fourth year and all of sudden she thinks she rules the world," he muttered almost inaudibly, going back in for a second round of brushing.
"I need to change Malfoy. You're hogging the toilet."
"Not my problem," he hummed, continue to scrub away as he leaned over the sink, closer to the mirror. "Don't you have a room to change in? Or did they not have one big enough to fit your hair?"
"I have a room, Malfoy," she spat. "But I couldn't change in it, so get out."
"Haven't flossed yet," he laughed, clearly enjoying himself far too much. "And I'm pretty sure I was here first, so what I say goes."
Hermione threw her arms up in exasperation.
"You haven't changed one bit, Malfoy."
"Neither have you, Granger," he replied with a grin.
Hermione let out a groan of frustration. She began waiting for Malfoy to finish flossing, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest, tapping her foot impatiently on the white tiles by the door to the toilet.
"You're going to be there a while, Granger. I take my time with flossing. And I need to use mouthwash too."
"It's surprising how much shit still manages to come out of your mouth in spite of all that," Hermione retorted.
Draco actually laughed.
"I take it back. You have changed. You bought yourself a sense of humour since the last time I saw you."
He continued to floss, humming to himself as he did, clearly having a brilliant time.
"I give up waiting for you, Malfoy," she said finally, throwing her hands up in despair and entering the bathroom. "Don't look, I'm getting changed." She turned around and started to reach for the zip at the back of her dress. She realised that she could not quite reach it.
"Woah, woah, not so fast," said Draco dropping his string of floss in the sink. "I don't particularly care to be blinded today."
"Then you can leave," said Hermione with a fake smile, waving him off.
"Fine, whatever. If I get a cavity overnight it's your fault," he said, vanishing his used floss, packing his belongings away with a sweep of wandless magic and heading for the door.
"Wait!" she exclaimed just as Draco was leaving. He backtracked, leaned against the door frame with crossed arms and raised a brow at her.
"I can't reach the zip," she confessed, scrunching her face in embarrassment, desperate not to make eye contact with him.
"Sounds like a you problem."
"Malfoy, please-"
"Oh alright, alright. I suppose I can put this in my charity report at the end of the month. Helping an inferior in need."
She shook her head at him, biting back a laugh.
"You're insufferable."
"What was that, Granger?" he asked, holding his hand to his ear, pretending not to have heard. "I thought I heard a beggar attempting to be a chooser."
"Nope, wasn't me. Might have been Blaise," she joked.
He chuckled lightly and walked over to her. Hermione turned around.
"Just the top is fine," she said quickly. "I'll be able to reach the rest."
Hermione felt the cold metal of his ring against her neck as Draco used one hand to hold the top of the dress and the other to undo the zip. A chill trickled down the surface of her skin, raising goosebumps from their beds.
His breath became sharper as he pulled the zip downwards, exposing a triangle of the bare skin on her back. It tickled the hairs on the back of her neck, causing them to stand on end and her shoulders to clench in response.
"This dress is particularly unflattering on you, you know," he said in a low voice by her ear. "It makes you look like a rectangle."
And the sensation was gone.
Hermione spun around.
"You really know how to make a girl swoon, Malfoy. Thanks for the zip though, you can fuck off now."
"And you, Granger, surprise me every time with your wonderful manners," he mocked back at her with the same punchable smirk he always wore.
"Go away before I throw Magical Me by Gilderoy Lockhart at your head."
"Careful, Granger, or you might start to develop an inside joke with me."
She rolled her eyes at him and huffed.
"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," he said, holding his hands up in pretend surrender. "Night, Golden Girl."
"Night, ferret."
He left and Hermione stared into the mirror, shaking her head. She ran the tap, held both her hands underneath it and splashed the water in her face, hoping to wash some sense into herself. She patted her face dry with a towel from her extendable bag.
She then changed out of her half unzipped dress, decided to have a quick shower, scrubbing hard at her skin with her loofa and body wash. Once she was out, she covered herself with a towel and got to work on the drying charm.
Once that was done, she threw on her pyjamas and made her way over to the sink to brush her teeth. Being the daughter of two dentists, she had been very pleased by the way Malfoy had brushed his teeth, taking great care in them.
She left the toilet much later than she expected, tiredness flooding over her like a wave. Ahead, she saw a figure run into a door and slam it shut. It was odd, but Hermione shrugged it off.
When she returned to her room, Tom was already fast asleep in the arm chair, his chest moving up and down slowly and at regular intervals. This convinced her he wasn't faking it.
With impressive speed, Hermione pulled her bag over her shoulder and flung it on the bedside table.
Finally, she climbed into bed, but the loud creaking sound woke Tom up with a start. He jolted upwards, wand clutched in his hand.
"It's just me," she giggled, holding up her hands in surrender. "Sorry about the noise."
"You're back."
"Yes, sorry about the delay, Malfoy was hogging the sink."
Tom was silent in his thoughts for a second.
"Is that the horrid boy that called you 'Granger' at school?" he asked, analysing her reaction intently.
"Impressive," said Hermione with a smile. "I'm surprised you remember. I say so many things."
Tom shrugged. "You said he hurt you."
"Oh only verbally," she replied nonchalantly. "I punched him once, you know?"
"What did he do to you?"
"Oh, nothing. It was years ago. I'm quite over it now, although I'm sure the memory of getting punched in the face by Gryffindor's Golden Girl still haunts Malfoy at night."
"Is that where he got the scar on his left cheek?"
"I left a scar?" Hermione asked, sounding rather shocked. "I had no idea."
"It's only small," he replied. "Barely noticeable."
"And yet you noticed it."
"Not much escapes my scrutiny."
Hermione smiled to herself, remembering how he had said the same thing about her earlier that evening. She tucked herself in and turned off the light by her bedside table with a wave of wandless magic.
"Goodnight, Riddle."
"Sleep well, Miss Granger."
Tom rested his had back against the top of the armchair and within a few minutes, his breath was back to the slow, regular intervals from before.
Now all that awaited Hermione was some much needed undisturbed sleep. When she would wake up, the most unbelievable day of her life would have passed. Tomorrow would be a far brighter day, and one day closer to their freedom.