Hermione Voldemort's Daughter

Chapter 11: Le grenier

I woke up at 7 o'clock and looked out my window for the very first time ever since I'd got there. Weird, I'd have thought I'd have already looked out. Just shows how busy I'd been. The sky was foggy. At the end of garden was a forest. I heard the crunch of gravel and looked down. Draco Malfoy was sitting on a bench directly below me. I looked at my clock. Nobody else would be up now, so I put on a green top with a gold rose on it on with some jeans and went down to join him.

Draco's POV

"Good morning!" the voice of my current thoughts greeted happily.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked her, twirling to face her.

"I could ask you the same question." She smirked and sat down next to me.

"Bench is wet." I told her.

"Don't care. You gonna tell me why you're up?"

"Early riser." I replied. She laughed.

"No kidding." She remarked.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped.

"Nothing, nothing." She dismissed.

"Why you up?" I asked.

"Woke up; saw you down here, thought you might want some company. You're directly below my window." She answered. I looked up.

"Nice window." I commented.

"I take pride in my windows." She smirked sarcastically.

"I can see why." I laughed.

"So you've been here before, have you explored the house yet?" she asked. I sighed.

"In all truth my parents think I shouldn't nose." I told her.

"It wouldn't be nosing if you had permission." Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

"Have I got permission?" I asked devishly.

"Yes," she replied, "Had breakfast?"

"Nope," I said, "But aren't we going to explore?"
"After breakfast."

Breakfast turned out to be two pieces of toast with butter and some raspberry jam.

"It's enough, right?" she asked me.

"Plenty." I nodded. Although I was used to much more food, I found it filled me up.

"Attics or dungeons first?" she wondered, "Which is more exciting?"

"Dungeons," I nodded. We made our way down a random stairway into a murky corridor. There were cells lined up, but nobody was in there.

"Pretty dreary down here," I noted as we walked downwards.

"Like your dungeons are any better," she retorted.

"My dungeons are made out of gold." I boasted.

"You lie." she stated as we reached a dead end. Once we were back in the corridor's, I looked at her,

"So west wing or attics?" I asked.

"Faites votre choix!" she exclaimed. At my blank look, she added, "Take your pick!"

"Attic, then." I told her.

"Le grenier," she commented, "The attic."

"Is that French?" I asked her.

"Oui." she answered.

"And that means..." she laughed.

"Yes. I went to France a few years ago." she explained.