was a chain smoking emphysemic who couldn't climb a flight of stairs without stopping to catch his breath. That would make kicking him in the balls and making a run for it all the more easier.
Not that it was likely to be easy in the first place. Honestly, she was very close to losing her composure altogether.
"You're the Mudblood, aren't you? Potter's Mudblood."
It didn't really sound like a question and so she was more than happy to continue ignoring him. The quill she kept in the back of her skirt tickled her. She focussed on the sensation and what little comfort the unlikely weapon provided.
"You look different than your pictures. I have a few, you know," he nodded. "Cuttings. Got 'em in a book. I like to keep informed what with being away so much. I' ve been in this pisshole for eight months now. Spent most of that time on me own. "
That would explain why he seemed to enjoy talking to himself. She really didn't need to hear about his Death Eater scrapbook or Voldemort's dismal employment package.
Also, he was staring at her chest in a way which made Ron's indiscreet ogling seem downright angelic. For a moment, Hermione contemplated taking the blanket off Blaise's bed and wrapping it around her, but that would only expose the bed and she also didn't need to give Travers any ideas.
"You're in seventh year at Hogwarts, so that makes you whatseventeen?"
Eighteen actually. Now why don't you be a good henchman and go and see what's keeping Blaise and Pettigrew.
Out loud she said, "You know you're going to go to Azkaban for a very long time if you're caught. People are looking for me."
He shook his head at her. It wasn't stubbornness, which would have been more reassuring, it was worse. It was confidence. She sincerely hoped it was misplaced.
"They won't catch us."
Hermione seriously disapproved of the way he said, 'us'.
And yet the sounds beyond the door were getting louder. Footsteps, shouting, instructions. The noise of big, iron hinges moving. Bolted doors sliding open. Something was happening out there. Hermione wondered if help was indeed arriving or if what she was hearing was merely Death Eater reinforcements.
The latter idea left her feeling faint.
She had no idea if she was still impervious to the Imperious curse and had no desire to have Travers test the theory. Let him think she was meek and compliant. If he decided to get too close, she'd go for his groin and then his wand.
At least that was the plan.
Draco was out there somewhere on his own.
It hadn't taken her long to work out that he was alive, if not entirely in one piece. If she really concentrated, she could feel a hammering in her chest that was twice the rate of her own heartbeat. She imagined putting two fingertips to the side of her neck and feeling a twin set of pulses. Wherever he was, he was on the move and he was close.
"Zabini isn't going to last, you know. That little upstart thinks he's bred to higher concerns. If you're interested in a favourite, the smart money is on me."
Now this was interesting. Hermione gave the man her full attention, which she was gratified to see, made him a fraction less smug. Who would have thought that all that time spent attempting to intimidate naughty junior Slytherins would finally pay off?
Or maybe it was just all the time spent in Draco's company. One undoubtedly picked up a few traits.
"And who might you be?"
He grinned, revealing a set of teeth that belonged in a Dickens story. The child of dentists knew these things.
"I'm the one you need to be nice to right now, girly."
"Let me out of this room and I swear I won't tell the authorities about your involvement. It's not too late."
"Is that you begging, then?" the man's smarmy grin looked set in concrete.
He wished. "You wish."
"Good. I like a bit of sass."
For a moment, Hermione thought he said 'ass' and nearly blanched.
There was an explosion in the floor above. The very foundations of the building seem to shake. Dust peppered down from the rafters. Hermione waved a hand in front of her face to clear the air as she squinted at the door.
Travers had wrenched it open to take a look outside.
"Merlin"
"What is it?" Hermione asked, momentarily forgetting that she was afraid.
"Get up!" he ordered, even as he wrenched her towards him and hauled her out into the corridor.
"Where are we going?" she demanded,