s where I' ve been; wallowing in self-pity in the fucking tropics, riding camels in the desert, playing Rogue Auror on particularly boring days. How lucky I was to run into a very repentant Bellatrix Lestrange. What fun I had on my little sabbatical. And bugger me, how I miss my fucking tan."
"Stop it! I know it was hell! Harry told me enough." A tear escaped. "I' m sorry you suffered," she added in a whisper. "I'm sorry I haven't read the report yet. I don't know why I haven't"
That was a lie. She knew why she didn't want to read it. Reading it was to risk her compassionate side rationalizing why he had done what he did.
He looked like he wanted to grab her and shake her. Hermione resisted the urge to take a step backwards. She couldn't recall ever seeing Draco quite this angry with her.
But then he shook his head, walked away, stopped, turned around and came back again.
"Granger," he began, "you think just because I' m in love with you and because I'm so very sorry for hurting you that there's a switch you can flip to turn me into a normal man? I mean, why bother? You're not even taking me back."
"I" she started.
"Stop crying," he snapped, though not entirely unkindly. Now he just looked weary. He stared down at his hands. "Don' t cry if you don' t plan on regretting your actions." He resumed waking. "We should continue."
Yes, she silently agreed, although she wished she was saying yes to more than just the rescue mission.
Chapter Fifty-Six
It took them fifteen minutes to make their way to the kitchens and adjacent servants' quarters. This was due to the Death Eater that was standing at the bottom of the service stairs.
Hermione's long distance Petrificus did the trick, after which they hid the man in the wine cellar. Draco didn't complain much about this because his mood was improved after finding a bottle of prized merlot that looked like it had been abandoned shortly after opening.
"Bastards," he muttered. He uncorked it, took a long, healthy swig, closed his eyes briefly and savoured the taste.
Hermione shot him and incredulous look, to which he innocently responded with, "Would you like some?"
She declined.
With wine bottle now in tow, they climbed back up the stairs behind the pantry.
"Tell me again why we're in the kitchen?" Hermione asked.
Draco held a finger to his lips and silently walked over to the little, adjoining room where candlelight could be seen through the crack under the door. Hermione assumed the room was where the Manor's house elf lived.
He knocked. There was no answer.
"Boris, if you're there, your assistance is required in the ballroom," Draco called out.
There was a short pause. "Malfoy, is that you?"
"No, it' s Lord Voldemort," snapped Draco." Why is everyone asking me that tonight?"
That seemed to convince whoever it was. The spells came off the door and then the manual locks were undone, one by one. It creaked open. A short, small, dark-haired man was standing beside a single bed, his wand in hand. Hermione recognized him as the servant who had taken her and Nick's coats at the start of the evening.
Beside him was Toolip the house elf, holding a candlestick high above her head.
"Miss!" Toolip cried out. "Is good to see you again!"
"Good to see you too, Toolip," Hermione smiled, "despite the circumstances."
Boris was looking at them with surprise. "We assumed you'd be with the others in the ballroom."
"We got lucky," replied Draco. He passed the wine to Boris, who uncorked it without a word and took a swallow.
Boris glanced down at the faded label. "Nice. Though you might have waited another year or two."
Draco looked affronted. "They opened it."
"Bastards," Boris spat.
Hermione looked from one man to the other. "You two know each other well?"
Boris opened his mouth to reply, but Draco cut in. "His family used to work for the Malfoys, once upon a time," he smoothly supplied.
He was lying, but Hermione didn' t press the matter. "If you' re finished drinking, can we get down to the business of rescuing everyone in the ballroom?" Hermione reminded, her voice rising a little. "We don't even know where Harry is, for God' s sake."
"Potter? They're poking a stick at him in Lucius' study," Boris informed.
Hermione turned concerned eyes to Draco. "We have to go and get him now."
"And risk alerting the twenty Death Eaters in the ballroom? I don' t think so. We' ll have