She sat down on the bottom step at the staircase landing, deep in thought.
She heard footsteps, intentionally audible footsteps, and looked up as Draco came around the corner. His expression was carefully closed.
She stared at him. He was in wizarding robes, all black. Since she'd arrived at the manor she'd never seen him in anything but black. He looked as though he expected to have his picture taken.
Ever since he'd been announced as identity behind the High Reeve, the papers had grown rabid in their curiosity and coverage of him. Voldemort's protege. He made appearances at the Ministry, at fundraisers, abroad...
He was traveling frequently. Short trips, usually less than a day, with a noticeable escort.
Draco stood at the landing, looking at her. She'd wrapped his cloak around her shoulders before venturing into the hallway, and his eyes flickered when he noted it. He stared at her for several seconds as though he were re-memorising her.
She studied him in the same way, trying to understand the new version of him.
"I thought you were out," she said when the silence grew oppressive.
"My plans until noon were cancelled." He was studying her carefully, his eyes flicking down to her feet and her hands. "Are you strong enough to walk? I wanted to show you something."
Hermione swallowed. "How far is it?"
"The closer side of the main wing."
Hermione hesitated and then stood, her curiosity piqued. "I think I can walk that far."
He maintained a conscientious distance from her as they walked slowly through the manor. It should have been only a ten minute walk, but it took well over half an hour. He made a convincing job of walking at a glacial speed and didn't say anything when she had to pause along the way and shrank towards the walls when the hallways widened and grew larger.
She studied him the whole way, noting the edge, the precision. He was carefully exacting to an extent that he hadn't been before.
It was his runes, she realised with slow horror. They'd carved him away. They'd ground him down and reduced him until there was nothing to interfere with them.
Unhesitating, cunning, unfailing, ruthless, and unyielding; driven to succeed.
He'd spent sixteen months trying to find her. He'd hunted for her across Europe, all the way to Australia. He'd used genetic traces, repeatedly, despite the fact they were enough Dark Magic to occasionally kill wizards.
He'd known she was somewhere. He'd let himself disappear in the process.
She and Draco came to a stop outside a familiar set of doors. A doorway that had always been locked to Hermione as long as she'd been in the manor.
There was a fluttering sensation in her chest as she recognised where they were.
Her throat tightened, and she looked down, biting her lip. "I can't touch your books anymore; they're hexed," she said.
"I had the elves restore them all."
Hermione looked up sharply.
He was looking at the doors. "I intended to bring you sooner, but you were bedridden."
"Astoria—"
"I'll deal with her if, and when, she comes back. You can come here as much as you want or take books back to your room or somewhere else if you prefer. The house-elves will transport them."
He opened the door to the library and stood back to let her enter.
Hermione peeked inside, taking a hesitant step forward until she stood in the doorway, and drawing a slow, deep breath as she took it in. It was the same. The same library she'd visited two years before, brimming with books she'd longed to read.
She'd been so bored for so long, and here it was, and she could touch them, read them—
She stepped eagerly forward—
Into the cavernous room.
The hair on the back of her neck prickled, causing her to look upwards. The ceiling was shrouded in darkness. It was so high up she couldn't make it out. As she tried to see it, her throat tightened and her fingers twitched.
She felt as though she were shrinking. The room was enormous, the ceiling and walls and shelves stretching up higher and higher...
She was small, and the room was so very big. She was pregnant. She wasn't able to use magic, and she wasn't allowed to defend herself. She couldn't panic, or she might hurt the baby.
Her chest contracted painfully as through there were iron bands clamped around her ribs and crushing her.
She inhaled very slowly through her nose.
It was just a library. She'd been there before with Draco. Topsy would be nearby.
"I have to go now." Draco's voice cut through her thoughts.
He'd been watching her stand in the doorway for several minutes.
He glanced into the library. "You don't have to worry. I re-warded the room, and the estate won't allow anyone to enter while I'm gone."
Hermione wavered a moment longer and then stepped away from the door.
"Maybe — we can come back later."
Draco stared at her, his eyes running over her in a rapid catalogue. Hermione reached out and rested her fingertips in the wall, feeling the wallpaper as she nervously wet her lips.
She tilted her head to the side with a quick jerk. "The — the ceiling is very high. I had forgotten — that the ceiling was so high. I didn't notice that — before." She looked down at her shoes, and her fingers spasmed, causing her nails to scratch audibly across the wall. "I might — I don't—"
Her words stalled as she struggled to articulate it.
Draco's eyes flickered, and his hand moved towards her. "Hermione—"
Her chest and throat contracted, and she twitched, moving incrementally closer to the wall.
His hand dropped.
Hermione pressed her right shoulder against the wall and then crossed her left hand to rest it against the wall too, dropping her chin down.
"I know being afraid because a room has a high ceiling is illogical," her voice was shaking. "I'm trying. I know. I know — I'm trying — I am trying — but—"
Draco stepped away. Her stomach dropped, and her fingers twitched against the wall again.
Too far.
Too close.
Too far.
Draco looked down at the floor near her feet. "You aren't required to do anything you don't want. I should have realised the ceiling might be an issue. When I get back, we can set up a smaller room with the ones you want. If there are books or any subjects that you want today, the house-elves can bring them to you; as many as you want. I'll walk you back."
Her legs were trembling with exhaustion. "No. You should go. I'm getting tired. You'll be late if you walk me all the way back."
He released a breath, giving a short nod. "Right."
He started to turn away.
Hermione reached towards him and then withdrew her hand. "Draco—"
He stopped and turned to look back at her. She swallowed and managed a wan smile.
"Be careful, Draco. Don't die."
He froze.
There was a pause as they both stood looking at each other.
Then the corner of his mouth quirked with a ghost of a smile. "Right."
He stared at her a moment longer and then vanished silently.
Hermione stood, tracing her fingers along the faint texture of the wallpaper in the hallway. She felt so tired she was tempted to slide down the wall and lie on the floor.
She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she slowly turned to make her way back to the North Wing, turning everything over in her mind.
It was past nightfall. Hermione was seated in her chair, staring out the window and studying the hedge maze, when she felt the air shift. She turned and found Draco standing at the door.
"You didn't ask for any books." He was studying her carefully.
She shook her head. "I've been thinking."
She saw his eyes flicker and his expression grow more reserved.
"When I think about it, there are things that don't add up for me."