Work Text:
“Just open the door, Malfoy,” Hermione hissed as she pushed him out of the way. Crammed into the narrow secret passageway off from the grand staircase, she was just a single door away from reaching the entrance hall and off to breakfast.
He gave her a scathing look, paired with a scoff. “And you don’t think I’ve tried that?”
Hermione turned the knob and pulled futilely on the door. It rattled pathetically on its hinges but did not give.
“Do you think someone locked it?” Draco asked as he watched her struggle. A smug smirk was on his face. If she wasn’t furiously trying to open the door, she would have hexed him. He had gone so far as to lean against the wall, arms folded across his lean chest. Blond hair seemed to shimmer in the dark of the hallway like a bloody torch.
“There's no lock on the door. It’s hidden behind a tapestry.” She wiggled the handle once more before reasoning it. “Do you think someone accidentally blocked it?”
“Oh, absolutely. Professor Snape slithered in there—“ he wiggled his long fingers through the air dramatically, “and decided to rearrange an empty room that is filled with old cobwebs and dust. Maybe it’s his new office?”
Hermione turned to stare at him. “You are entirely useless.”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug, ”I’m not the one trying to open a door I’ve stated won’t budge.”
“Well, did you try the portrait again?”
With a dramatic sigh, he responded; “Greta— you know, the lady in the portrait, told me the password was incorrect so I came down here to sulk until I was rescued. Instead I got you.”
Hermione threw her hands in the air in annoyance, “Honestly, how was I supposed to know that the door would seal itself behind me and that Greta would change the password without telling me?”
Draco just blinked owlishly at her through the gloom, unmoving.
“Who else uses this passageway?” Hermione tried again, as if to fill the oppressive silence. She needed to come up with a scheme or plan to escape. Her stomach growled ominously loud and silver eyes left her face to the whale that suddenly filled the room. She felt her cheeks growing hot.
“I do.” He stated.
“Well no shit Sherlock. I mean, who else uses it? ”
Draco tapped a finger to his chin, “Sometimes Goyle.”
Hermione felt a glimmer of hope.
“When he is with me.”
The bubble burst.
“What about your other minions?”
His brows furrowed. “ Minions? Who the hell are my minions?”
“Goyle, Crabbe—“ she ticked them off on her fingers, “Nott, Zabini, Parkinson—“
“Pansy would hex your pretty little head off if you said that to her face.” He chuckled at the idea.
“—Pucey— wait .” Hermione turned to stare at him in earnest, “You think I’m pretty?”
His pale cheeks suddenly began to grow pink. “I did not say that. I said Pansy—“
“Would hex my, and I quote, pretty little head off. ” She finished for him, her arms folded over her chest. A smirk now touched her own lips.
Draco scoffed as loud as he could, looking at the bed of his nails. “Don’t let it go to your head, Granger. Your hair is already so big and poofy. I can only assume it’s full of secrets.”
Hermione was already walking away from him towards the portrait at the other end of the narrow passage. She waved a hand through the air. “Sorry, can’t hear you over my inflated ego.”
She heard the pitter patter of his footsteps following her up the passageway to the portrait. He made no response or reply. Hermione tried to push the portrait open, but it remained firmly shut. She rapped her knuckles against the back of it, hoping to gain the attention of the portrait owner, Greta.
“ Cheese charmer!” Hermione called out the password.
There was no response.
“I told you she changed it.” Draco was so close she jumped in surprise.
“Well bloody hell. What are we supposed to do?” Hermione shimmied away from him, wanting to escape the heat his body offered in the chill of the castle. Her stomach wailed pitifully again.
“Besides starving, apparently, could we try and call for help?” He said with a shrug. “It is breakfast. I’m sure others will be passing the portrait.”
“Do you think that will work?” Hermione turned to face him, her arms cross over her stomach to muffle the sound of her hunger.
“Worth a shot.”
~*~
Theo slapped a hand against Goyle’s chest as they reached the second floor landing of the Grand Staircase. The burly wizard beside him barely managed to catch his muffin before it fell to the ground.
“Did you hear something?” Theo asked as he turned slowly on his heel. He squinted at the portraits on the wall. They were moving about, as usual. Gossiping. Chattering.
“The sound of first years looking for directions or…?” Goyle replied as he brushed off his muffin.
“No, not them. They whine all the time. I swear I heard someone calling for help.”
Goyle turned to join Theo in looking at the portraits, scanning each of the faces. The one closest to them was of Greta Catchlove; a blonde haired witch draped in bright pink robes. She was daintily nibbling at a bite of cheese. Realizing she had company, she lowered it back onto the plate before her.
“Can I help you boys find something?” Greta asked.
“I just might be hearing things? I swear I heard someone asking for help?” Theo asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.
A slow smirk grew on the witches face; “oh, you did.”
Theo’s brows shot up a notch and she continued, “I entrapped that bushy haired girl and that blond little ferret in the passage. The two of them are going to confess their feelings for eachother if it's the last thing we do.”
Theo and Goyle were gaping at the witch. “ We ?”
“Oh yes, we have a bet going. The Fat Lady, Anne, Gagwilde— just a few of us— that they will kiss before the year is out!” The witch was practically giggling in her frame. She picked up a delicate knife to cut another slice of cheese, a cat like smirk upon her face.
“I want in,” Goyle suddenly blurted out.