The Doll House

Chapter Six: Deeper









Draco watched with narrowed eyes as Hermione chewed the last strip of bacon as if it were the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. He had been eyeing that last piece and fully intended to eat it but she snatched it up first. She likely didn’t even want it, she had just grabbed it to get him back for getting into the shower before her. Vindictive bint.





“Are you about finished?” he asked in a surly tone. She smiled and sucked the tips of her fingers noisily.





“Mmmm…delicious,” she sighed, leaning back in her chair.





“So what’s on the agenda for today?” he asked, trying to ignore the way her pink tongue swiped over her full lower lip. He was especially trying to ignore the way it made him feel.





“We go back inside the house,” she said simply.





“And if another contrary ghost tosses us out on our arses?”





“We get back up and go inside again,” she said. “But I don’t expect it to be an issue today; we will go in better prepared.” She pushed away from the table and disappeared into the bedroom for a moment, returning a few minutes later clutching something in her fist.





“What the hell, Granger?” Draco flinched when she reached out and draped something around his neck. It was a piece of amber, rough and uncut dangling from black chord.





“Protective amulet,” she said, draping another one around her neck. “It will keep the ghosts a safe distance away from us.”





“Ugly as all hell,” he muttered, turning the stone over in his hand examining the rough edges.





“It isn’t meant to be a fashion statement, it’s meant for protection,” she said.





“Right, protection,” Draco said dropping the stone so that it rested against the center of his chest. “So what if we run into any other nasty little beasties while we are in there? Is this rock going to protect me from them too?”





“I’m taking my satchel today, I have blessed salts and sands as well as various potions and other charmed objects should we need the extra protection,” she said gesturing towards the satchel lying on the counter. “Don’t worry, Malfoy, I’ll protect you.”





“Why do you do that?” he asked softly. She had gone to the counter to check her bag and looked up at him questioningly.





“Why do I do what?” she asked, shoving small books into the bag.





“Why do you call me Malfoy instead of Draco?” He hadn’t realized that it bothered him, but it made him feel as if she were dehumanizing him somehow. As though she sought to keep distance between them by not using his first name.





“I don’t know…maybe for the same reasons you always call me Granger,” she said, averting her eyes so that he couldn’t see her confusion. “I didn’t realize that it bothered you.”





“I didn’t either…but I guess it does,” he said. “Maybe you could try calling me Draco, like everyone else does.”





“Alright, Draco.” His name felt foreign on her tongue. “Perhaps you might try Hermione; I don’t particularly like being called Granger or your old favorite, ‘mudblood’.”





“I haven’t called anyone by that name in years,” he said quietly. She was startled for a moment by the pained look on his face and then she felt the guilt begin to seep in.





“I’m sorry that I said that, Draco, I can see that you aren’t the same.” She gave him a soft smile and draped her bag over her shoulder.





“I don’t think any of us are,” he said, running his fingers through his hair uncomfortably. He didn’t want to get into a deep discussion of the past or what it did to him, how it changed him. The topic of the dark past they shared made him sick to his stomach and he often wished he could forget though he knew that he never would. “Well, I guess we should get back inside the house and take advantage of the time we have before we get tossed back out.” He stood and turned his back to her for a moment to hide his expression and settle his nerves. He inhaled sharply when he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder for just a brief second before falling away.





“Yes, we should, I want to cover as much of the house as we possibly can before sundown,” she said.





“You’re certain this ugly thing you put around my neck is going to keep that whore ghost off of my bits, right?” he asked, once more examining the chunk of amber.





“I’m certain,” she chuckled. “Don’t worry, Draco, I’ll protect you and your bits.” She gave him a saucy wink and slipped past him. He couldn’t help following her, his eyes firmly locked on the lush curve of her backside snuggled so lovingly into soft, worn denim.



“You know, Hermione, you never did prove to me that your rack was better,” he taunted.





“The way you’ve been staring at them I am more than certain you have come to that conclusion on your own without me having to flash you,” she snickered as she descended the stairs and headed across the lawn towards the house.





“Maybe, but it isn’t nearly as fun,” he said, following her. “I don’t want to go back in there,” he said suddenly.





“I know, the sense of dread is almost overwhelming isn’t it?” she asked, reaching into her bag and handing him a little phial of potion that he swallowed down without comment. Immediately he felt his discomfort ease as they approached the back door.





“You don’t think it will always feel like this do you?” he asked wondering if the house was worth the trouble after all.





“No, in my experience once the house has been cleared of the negative influence the feel of the house changes,” she said, reaching for the knob. “Ready?”





“As ready as I am going to get I guess,” he said, squaring his shoulders.





Once inside they easily made their way through the kitchen and dining area, the parlors and a small library. Hermione was scouring for activity and signs of dark magic while Draco was cataloguing the property and mentally making notes of what he would change and what he would preserve. It wasn’t until they approached the stairs that Polly appeared.





“Ye shouldn’t be ‘ere,” she said the moment she appeared. She was faint, even more transparent than the day before which led Hermione to believe that her energy had been drained somehow.





“I own this house, I belong here,” Draco said as he walked through her, shivering as he passed through.





“But ‘e isn’t goin’ te like it one lit’el bit!”





“I don’t really give a damn what he likes,” Draco said, continuing to climb the stairs with Hermione following behind him. She didn’t say anything, it was important that Draco, as the home owner, exert his power over the property, that he make it clear that the house and land belonged to him now and that he held the authority over it. At the top of the stairs a long corridor opened up and several doors lined either side.



“I think this first one is the study if I recall the diagram from the agent correctly,” he said, turning into the first room on his right. “Jackpot!”





The room wasn’t overly large. It boasted a small hearth and large, wide windows that let the light in. The gleaming ebony wood furniture should have been covered in several inches of dust but thanks to magic and a stasis spell it was just as shiny and beautiful as if a house elf had just polished it. The bookcases were loaded with rare magical texts and leather-bound first editions of several classic novels. Near the windows was a desk and lying in the center was a large, cloth covered journal.





“That must be the book Polly spoke of,” Hermione said as she approached the desk, first checking for dangerous spells before she reached out for it and slipped it into her satchel.





“None of these spell books are particularly dark,” Draco said as he perused the bookshelves. “My father has darker texts in the public library of the manor.”





“Where does he keep his truly dark, dangerous texts?” she asked, sidling up beside him and looking over at the text in his hand.





“Several different places actually,” he snorted. “I don’t know all of his hiding places. I do know where his porn stash is though and in truth that’s all I ever cared about.”





“By all means, what good is dark magic when one can stare at naked witches,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.





“Have you ever seen wizard porn?” He asked, placing the book back on the shelf.





“No, I can’t say in all honesty that pornography of any kind appeals to me,” she said, heading back into the hall. Draco followed her as they peered into bedrooms and bathrooms.





“Well, I don’t see the appeal of muggle porn, but wizard porn is animated and far more….varied,” he said, waggling his brows at her.





“You’re up on muggle technology, Draco, I am sure you’ve looked at porn on the internet or on video,” she laughed.





“Still not as interesting as wizard porn,” he said, briefly cataloging each room thinking he may not have to outfit the guest rooms too much as the furniture was of good quality. Perhaps he would only have to change out bedding and change the color schemes and art. “If you aren’t that into it what do you use?”





“What do I use for what?” She asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.





“When you’re alone…what do you use for stimulation?” he asked.





“Oi! I already tol’ ye, luv, she aint gonna let ye play in ‘er ‘oney pot,” Polly said, laughingly.





“Go away,” Draco snapped.





“I don’t need porn,” Hermione chuckled. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I can call upon past experiences or just fantasize.”





“Ever fantasize about me?” He asked.





“Maybe…I’m sure I did back in school, I had a sick fascination with bad boys, death eaters included,” she said, stepping into a small bathroom. “Don’t follow me, I need to pee,” she said as she closed the door in his face.





“I didn’t need to know that!” he laughed as he leaned against the wall outside the door. Polly gave him a particularly knowing glance and fought back the urge to give her the finger. “So…all death eaters or just me?” he fished.





“Mostly your father and Snape,” she said, the laughter evident in her voice. “I think you were primarily in my classroom daydreams because I was staring at you.”



He listened as the toilet flushed and he heard water running in the sink as she washed her hands. In moments she was opening the door and re-joining him in the corridor.





“Well, your plumbing seems to be in order,” she said.





“And how’s your plumbing, Gr-Hermione?” he asked with a little smirk.



“None of your business,” she retorted, stepping around him.





“I suppose you use one of those vibrating things,” he taunted, following behind her with his eyes locked on her softly swaying backside.





“Why would I waste money on one of those when I’ve got perfectly good fingers for free?” She glanced back over his shoulder and caught his little smile as he ogled her rear. “Besides, one of the first spells I learned when we began fourth year was the one that makes my wand vibrate.”





“Seriously?” he asked, eyes wide. “You mean the girls were actually…you know….with their wands?”





“Oh yes,” she said as they continued down the hall and turned into another. “Truthfully, wizards are a bit unnecessary when it comes to getting off….I wonder why this door is closed when all the others were open?”





“Screw the bloody door, why do you think a witch doesn’t need a wizard to get off?” Draco asked, his pride bruised slightly and his interest piqued even more.





“Oh, don’t get me wrong, sex is a hell of a lot more interesting with a partner it’s just not necessary for gratification,” she said. She reached out for the door knob and her brow furrowed when she felt its warmth along with a slow throbbing like a pulse. “How strange…feel this,” she said, reaching for his hand and curling his fingers around the knob. “Do you feel that?”





“Your hands are cold,” he grumbled, his eyes narrowing when he felt the low vibration. “What in the hell is that?”





“I don’t know, I’ve never come across it before,” she said, brushing his hand away and opening the door. It took a moment for the gas lamps on the wall to flicker to life and illuminate the dark, stale room. Hermione immediately wished for darkness again. It was a small bedroom with simple white furniture and shuttered windows. But the entire surface of the bed, the dresser tops and the shelves lining the walls were covered with dolls. A sea of glassy eyes stared back at them in such an unsettling manner that Hermione actually shuddered.





“My Gods!” Draco gasped. The appalled look on his face required no explanation as they looked around the room. “These dolls are…strange.” He said as he picked one up from the bed. It looked nothing like any of the dolls he had ever seen before. Nothing like the expensive porcelain dolls his mother collected. These dolls had dirty, tattered clothing and ratty hair. Not the prim, perfect clothing and silky coiffures of his mother’s dolls.





“They’re handmade,” Hermione said as she peered closely at the collection. “The clothes….the hair is human….oh my god…” she pressed her fingertips to her lips as the horror of what they were looking at washed over her. “These dolls…they represent his victims…he made them from their hair….from their clothing…”





“Fuck all, Hermione,” Draco curled his nose up as he stared down at the doll in his hand. Suddenly he saw a flash in the glassy stare of the small porcelain face and felt the soft, rhythmic pulsing of a heartbeat against his palm. “I think….I think…this thing is alive!” he released it, watching in morbid fascination as it tumbled as if in slow motion to the ground at his feet. The dull thud sounded like a canon blast when it hit the floor, the cold, inanimate face staring up at him for a moment before a tiny little crack appeared and began to spread down the center of its face. A gust of warm air billowed through the room followed by a brief sensation of joy and the tinkling sound of a child’s laughter. For just a moment they felt euphoric.





That moment was quickly replaced with dread, fear and anger as a roar of fury shook the house.





“What in the bloody hell….”





“ ‘e’s right angry now!” Polly said as she flew quickly into the room. “Ye need ta go, now!”





“But the sun is still up, he can’t hurt us!” Draco said, turning panicked eyes towards the door.





“That isn’t necessarily true,” a small voice said. Hermione and Draco turned to find the ghost of Claira. “Materializing during the daylight hours is possible, it simply weakens him. He has more power at night….but he’s angry now…you need to go…NOW.” The little girl’s rather stoic expression turned frightened as the floor beneath their feet vibrated and the overpowering weight of anger and fear began to permeate the air around them.





“I don’t think that we have time to get out,” Hermione said as she rushed to the window and flung the shutters open. “We are much too high to climb out!”





“Damn it, disapparation appears to be impossible in here,” Draco said, looking around the room for an escape.





“He’s close,” Claira said, her transparent visage beginning to waver. Hermione looked at the closed door on the far wall and her eyes narrowed.





“What’s through there?” she asked.





“Tha’ is jus’ a closet, no way ou’ now!” Polly said, her image beginning to fade as well.





“We aren’t getting out,” Hermione said as she reached for Draco’s hand and dragged him towards the closet.





“What in the hell are you doing?” Draco asked, glancing back over his shoulder as if fully expecting a demon to materialize in the room at any moment.





“We are holing up for a bit,” she said, jerking open the closet door and dragging him in behind her. “We can’t get out safely so we are going to hunker down in here, I need light.”





“Oh fuck its getting cold in here,” Draco muttered as he pulled his wand and cast the small wardrobe in soft light. Hermione was kneeling on the floor rifling through her satchel.





“It’s going to get colder,” she said as she drew a large container of salt from her bag and poured it in a heavy line in front of the door. “He’s pulling every bit of energy he can from the house, including the energy of the ghosts living here to try and manifest. This salt will keep him from crossing the closet threshold.” She stood and withdrew her wand quickly an expertly constructing intricate wards on the door and the closet walls. Draco could only watch, completely awed by her skill and the calm way she handled herself under pressure. Her strength and courage had been something he had always secretly admired.





Watching her withstand the torture inflicted by his deranged aunt had been both horrifying and beautiful at the same time. He had never been more disgusted by something in his life yet also mesmerized by the strength and courage that held her together. Now, under the threat of an unknown enemy, she once again was proving why she had been such an asset for the light during the war.





“How long are we going to stay locked in here?” he asked.





“Until he exhausts himself and the energy supply,” she said tucking her wand back into her pocket. The door began to shake violently, the knob turning back and forth as if someone were desperately trying to gain entry.





“Mine!” It sounded like the growl of a demon or some other such monster, it certainly didn’t sound human. The temperature began to plummet dramatically until they could see their breath and they began to shiver.





“How long do you think it will take?” Draco asked, wrapping his arms around himself to try and ward off the chill.





“I don’t know. This house is full of negative energy, he has lots to feed upon,” she said as she sat down with her back against the wall. “Sit down,” she said, tugging on his trouser leg.





“We could freeze to death before then,” he groused, sliding to the floor beside her.





“No we won’t,” she said as she reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.





“What the fuck?” He started as she began to tug him down to lie on the floor.





“Don’t get all excited, Draco, we need to stay warm, the easiest way is to share body heat,” she said as she threaded her legs through his and pressed herself all along the length of him until they were lying on their sides, arms and legs entwined and nose to nose.





“What about a warming spell?” He shifted to try and get some space between them but the moment he felt her shivering he stopped and with a sigh tightened his arms around her and held her close.





“Draco?” She whispered his name. “You’re hard.”





“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since I’ve had a witch wriggling all over me, get over it,” he grumped. “So, come here often?”





“Never, I have never seen an entity quite like this,” she said, burrowing closer. She was afraid, something she had never been on an investigation before. “The anger is palpable and so extreme…it’s evil…Voldemort evil.”





“I certainly hope that you are wrong about that,” Draco said softly. “Trust me when I say that his evil went far deeper than you could ever know.”





Hermione leaned back a little so that she could examine his face in the dim light of the lumos charm coming from the tip of his wand which now leaned against the wall but within quick reach. She felt a tightening in her gut when she looked into his silver eyes and caught a glimpse of some past pain before he suppressed it. She touched his cheek and he flinched for just a second before his face relaxed and his eyes grew heavy. She had forgotten that he had been in the inner circle, closer to the Dark Lord for longer periods of time than she, at his mercy. Who knew what he had suffered at the hands of that lunatic.





“You…you can’t cast a warming charm….he would just feed off of the energy,” she stammered nervously.





“Sure, whatever you say,” he smirked, trying to lighten the air between them that had suddenly become thick and heavy with something he didn’t quite have a name for. “I think this might be a trick to get into my arms.” Just then they felt a sizzle of dark magic but the full force of it couldn’t touch them. The door shook and rattled in its frame while the roar of anger from outside resounded off the walls. Draco tightened his hold on the witch in his arms, inwardly shuddering as he felt the evil emanating from the house. She was right, it was familiar and sickening and it brought back far too many memories. Memories that he wished would remain buried forever.





“I never thought I would ever say this, but right now, your arms is the only place I want to be,” she said softly as she buried her face against his chest and braced herself to ride out the storm of evil battering them from the other side of the door.





AN: Sorry for the late update folks…my love returned after 8 weeks of being gone =)