two; locked up
It had been just over a week since the party at Parkinson Manor. Narcissa had seemed pleased, albeit suspicious, when Draco had returned home and mentioned that he'd spent the night talking to Pansy. Her carefully watching eyes should have been the first clue that something was going to happen, but Draco had retreated to his side of the house without much thought. The night he'd met Astoria had been extremely awkward, but not for the simple reason that he'd been caught chatting with Daphne's little sister. What made things difficult was that Draco had actually preferred the company of Astoria to anyone else. It was almost like being alone, but ... better, because you weren't actually alone.
It was wrong. She was young. She was the wrong Greengrass, the one who wasn't suitable for marriage in the least. The one hardly anyone even noticed. She was clumsy and quite possibly insane, if the behavior that drew her to the balcony was any indication of her sanity. A far cry from the poise and elegance that Daphne and Pansy always displayed. She was the opposite of everything that Draco was supposed to want. And despite that, maybe because of that, the blonde could not get her smoky eyes and dark waves out of his mind. It was truly disturbing. If Astoria knew anything about Draco, about what he'd done... The pureblood socialites all loved him for it. The scar on his left forearm was a reminder that he alone among those remaining had been in the close confines of Lord Voldemort. Despite the fact that he had failed all his tasks miserably, Draco was still revered by the vapid girls and power hungry boys his own age. And they were boys and girls, because not a one of them had grown up.
Draco knew that if Astoria knew his whole story, she would be sickened by him, the same way he was sickened by himself.
A sharp knock on his bedroom chamber startled the wizard from his thoughts. "Come in, Mother," he drawled, because there would hardly be anyone else there.
Narcissa stepped into the room and gave her son a beaming grin. He sat up quickly, his eyes widening at her elaborate, emerald green dress robes. "Mother, what are you--"
She cut him off. "Twenty minutes, darling. We're having a party tonight! I didn't think it would be best to bother you about it in advance." Which simply meant she hadn't wanted to give him time to run. "I think we'll be shutting your wing down for the evening. I'll have Fitz come by in twenty minutes to lock the area down. We don't want anyone getting lost." Narcissa added her last comment rather pointedly, looking down her nose once before stepping out of the room and shutting the door.
Just going through the motions. Draco dressed mindlessly, choosing to suit up in an all-black ensemble. He threw a set of black dress robes over his outfit, checked his hair in a mirror that made sure to compliment him, and stepped out of his bedroom just in time to see Fitz the House Elf running towards him.
"Fitz is required to tell Mister that Missus wishes to close down the Dragon Wing!" it squeaked. Draco waved his hand dismissively and kept walking.
The party was excruciating. It was obvious that Narcissa had thrown it to keep an eye on him, to see how he really behaved. And so he did exactly what she wanted. He danced, he drank, he ate (lightly, of course) and he mingled. He kissed Daphne's cheek, complimented Millicent's weight loss, murmured suggestive things in Pansy's ear, and talked Quidditch with Pucey. It certainly didn't help his foul mood that Draco kept scanning the crowd, hoping for a glimpse of a sultry pair of cat eyes. It was foolish. Even if she saw him, she surely hated him for his behavior. He didn't blame Astoria. It was better this way.
By the second hour of the party, Narcissa was practically snockered. Ladies weren't supposed to get drunk, but ladies with husbands in prison sometimes took that liberty. Draco used this moment to plan his escape. He couldn't break elf magic to get back to his room, but the drawing room was accessible and therefore so was the secret chamber under it. Draco slipped away from the party, leaving his outer robes draped against the stairwell so the party would think he'd gone upstairs to the bedrooms.
Glancing behind him into the empty room, Draco lifted the tapestry of his mother off the wall and slipped behind it. Fingers gripping a nearly invisible door handle, the wizard headed down to the hidden chamber beneath a small set of stairs. This room held horrible memories, but it was less horrible than what was upstairs. He knew that the room once held dark artifacts and hostages, but Fitz had since cleaned everything up and it now contained a few bookshelves with duplicate copies of paperbacks found in the library, a wine cabinet, and a large green couch.
Draco took off his suit jacket and tossed it over the sofa, settling down and loosening his tie. It would be perfect to hide here until everyone had gone. No one would know any better. A grin spreading across his face, Draco stood back up and uncorked a bottle of wine. "Better get a glass," he murmured to himself, and turned back to the door.
It didn't budge.
Fifteen minutes and thirty spells later, Draco was hit with the stunning realization that he was trapped. It all made sense, in a really twisted way. The room had been enchanted with elf magic so that a person could get in, but not out. This was perfect for hoarding illegal items and later on, captives. Anyone snooping around could be held until disposed of and well, there was really no need to explain why it was good for trapping unwelcome guests.
Fitz had cleaned the room. Fitz had furnished it. Fitz was the one to fetch the wine when Narcissa requested it. Draco had assumed foolishly that his house elf had removed the enchantments after Lucius had been taken away.
Letting out a cry of rage, angry at his family and everything they stood for, Draco hurled his wine bottle noisily at the bookshelf. It shattered, soaking the pages of timeless volumes with a red stain. Then he plopped unceremoniously back down on the couch.