1) 'one of those simple, two-piece jigsaw puzzles' — Blackadder.
2) ' Six inches to the left and grandchildren would have been out of the question.' — Blackadder again.
Hermione and Draco dived for the wardrobe and hurled themselves inside, slamming the door behind them. Harry pointed his wand feverishly at the window and whispered Reparo! and the smashed glass flew up and rearranged itself in the frame. Then he flung himself down on the bed and grabbed one of the bedposts just as the bedroom door, finally strained to the breaking point, burst inward and Lucius Malfoy hurtled into the room, looking livid with fury.
'Boy!' he shouted at Harry. He looked like Draco when Draco got angry: very pale with two burning red spots of color high on his cheekbones. Harry had the feeling that Lucius could have opened the door via sorcery, but had chosen to vent his ire on it instead. 'Why didn't you open the door?'
'I don't know,' said Harry flatly. 'Maybe because you tied me to the bed?'
Lucius had the grace to look embarrassed. 'I'd forgotten about that,' he admitted, pointed his wand at Harry, and snapped, 'Finite incantatum!'
Harry let his hands drop into his lap. 'Thanks,' he said. 'How is Nar — my mother?'
'She's fine,' said Lucius curtly.
'Can I see her?'
'No,' said Lucius shortly. 'I need you to help me with something. I?ve got to go down into the dungeons and I need you to come with me.'
Harry stared. This was just the invitation he had been hoping for-to be able to go and see where they were keeping Sirius-only he wasn?t wild about leaving Draco and Hermione shut into the wardrobe. On the other hand, refusing Lucius Malfoy wasn?t an option either. Lucius looked made enough to spit nails already.
'Okay,' he said, got up, and thinking hang in there at the wardrobe, followed Lucius out the door.
It was pitch black in the wardrobe. One side of Hermione's face was squashed up against rough fabric, her knee was jammed against Draco's and her arm, which was pinned under Harry's bag, was going numb. She could hear Draco breathing softly next to her, and, faintly through the wardrobe door, she could hear Lucius and Harry talking. She heard Lucius tell Harry he was taking him to the dungeons, heard Harry agree; then she heard them leave the bedroom, the door closing behind them.
Draco spoke first. Actually, he didn't really speak so much as begin swearing, with great fluency and creativity, covering a wide range of topics. Both his vocabulary and his imagery impressed Hermione. It would never have occurred to her that you could do that with a broomstick.
'Right,' she said finally. 'Sorry to interrupt, I was kind of enjoying all that, but I think we should get out of the wardrobe now. My arm is killing me.'
'We can't get out of the wardrobe,' said Draco flatly. 'It locks from the outside.'
Hermione gaped at him. 'What do you mean?'
Draco's voice was sharp. 'What part of 'it locks from the outside' didn't you understand? Honestly. I thought you were meant to be clever.'
'A simple Opening Charm-' 'No,' said Draco, 'this wardrobe's proof against that sort of thing. My father used to lock me in here when I misbehaved as a kid, so I should know.'
'Your father sounds horrible.'
'Leave my family out of this, Granger,' said Draco shortly.
'Granger?' Hermione made a noise of exasperation. 'First Harry, now you! Why are both of you acting like you hate me all of a sudden? All I did to Harry was try to save his life, and as for you, I don't know what your grievance is, but-' 'You really don't know?' Draco's voice, cold and distant, now sounded like the voice Hermione remembered from innumerable unpleasant hallway encounters at Hogwarts.
'No,' she said coldly.
'Lumos,' said Draco, and light blossomed from the tip of his wand, illuminating the interior of the wardrobe. Hermione gave a start. Talking to Draco in the dark, she had been imagining his face as she remembered it from school. And now she was face to face with Harry again. The wandlight made his green eyes glow like dark malachite. But he had Draco's angry smile.
'Potter,' said Draco shortly, 'is being a git for two reasons. One: he hates the idea of being rescued by me. I understand that. I would feel the same way in his position.'
'And the second reason?' Hermione said curiously.
'He's jealous,' said Draco.
Hermione felt as if her heart had dropped down into her stomach, then rocketed back up and lodged in her throat. 'Jealous?' she said faintly. 'About what?'
'Don?t be dense, Hermione.'
Hermione reached out and caught Dracos hand, squeezing it tightly. 'What are you saying?'
Draco's hand just lay in hers, not moving. 'I know what you want to hear,' he said. 'But is this how you want to hear it?'
Hermione paused. Was this how she wanted to hear that Harry maybe-possibly had feelings for her (or even a feeling — any feeling)? From Draco's unwilling spying into the contents of Harry's head? It was a violation, even if an involuntary one. And then there was the possibility that Draco might be wrong.
She shook her head, and drew her hand out of his. 'No,' she said.
'Just because I can feel what Harry feels,' said Draco unexpectedly, 'doesn't mean I've stopped feeling what
