The Sweetest Sin

Chapter 13: Fire and Glass

Hermione travelled back to the mansion by herself. As she walked to the fireplace in the back of a dingy bar in Mudblood Town clutching a small handful of Floo powder, she could sense Draco's eyes following her every moment. Even when she arrived back in the manor with a flourish of warm air and ashes, she could still feel his eyes burning holes into her back and it was a feeling that she could not simply shrug off.

When Hermione was safely on the polished floor of the main entrance hall, she began to carelessly wander over to the staircases. As she neared them, it suddenly occurred to her that she had not yet figured out what mystery lay on the third floor.

Guiltily, Hermione let her feet carry her up the thickly-carpeted stairs slowly. The house around her was silent, so silent that she could hear her own heart pounding loudly in her ears. Her breathing was shallow, tense, as if she were expecting Draco to appear out of thin air in front of her at any time.

I shouldn't be doing this, she thought nervously as she finally stepped onto the third floor.

The familiar sight of the two hallways to her left and right did nothing to comfort Hermione. In fact, as she began to tread silently down the corridor she'd travelled down during her first visit to the third floor, Hermione felt a sense of foreboding creep up on her. Something wasn't right; she shouldn't be up here. However, her curiosity overwhelmed all the warning bells ringing in her mind, and she continued on.

Hermione stopped abruptly when she caught sight of the tapestry she had stopped to admire last time. Once again, she found herself awed by the beauty and power of the creatures. They had been woven so skillfully into the rug that it was if the flames spurting from their nostrils might burst into life any minute.

Remembering the little knob, Hermione searched carefully down the back of one of the dragons and, with a rush of excitement, found it. Without hesitation, she pushed the knob of wood and stood back, feeling slightly apprehensive.

For a few seconds, nothing happened. Disappointed, Hermione heaved a great sigh and turned around to go explore other parts of the hallway. However, as she began to turn away, a soft whoosh came from behind her.

Spinning around, Hermione's mouth fell open when she saw the tapestry - or rather, what remained of the tapestry. The beautiful rug had unravelled completely. The wall behind it had also disappeared from view. Behind the many strands of wool that now hung in place of the tapestry, Hermione could see a large, rectangular room.

Restraining a shriek with some difficulty, Hermione hurried through the limp threads and into the room. In her excitement, she completely forgot to ask herself what would happen if the magic entranceway somehow disappeared, which would leave her locked in this secret room. As if to reprimand Hermione for not pausing to think, the wall behind her suddenly shimmered back into solidity. Hermione, however, was too stunned by what lay in the room to even care about getting back out of it.

The room was nearly made entirely of marble. The walls, the ceiling, the floor; everything was marble. Sculptures stood along each of the walls, all portraying the same young witch in different poses. Nearly every square inch of the walls, save for the rather large portions of the east and west walls that had been carved into shelves, was covered by paintings and portraits of the same witch. In the very center of the room, a huge glass statue of a coiled snake towered over Hermione. Its long, forked tongue touched the ceiling and its hollow eyes seemed to stare right at Hermione. Most intriguing of all about the statue of the snake was that in its core, a small, barely-visible flame flickered.

For several minutes, Hermione stood rooted to her spot, completely dumbstruck. Millions of questions raced through her mind. Who was this woman? Why was this room secret? Did Draco know about it? Why were all these paintings hidden away? Was this the reason why she had been forbidden to set foot on the third floor?

Seeking an answer to her questions about this woman's identity, Hermione walked numbly over to a full-length oil painting on her left. She stood for a moment, taking in every exquisite detail brought to life by the artist, the skillful shading, and the vivid, but at the same time subdued, colours. This portrait itself depicted the witch sitting on a large, flat rock by a clear stream. In the background were mountains and even further into the distance, a faint rainbow could be seen stretching across the pale blue sky. The witch was stunningly beautiful: her long, auburn hair cascaded down her back like a marvelous copper waterfall; her pale lips were curved into a small, knowing smile; and her large, catlike eyes, most captivating of all, were a beautiful amber colour with visible flicks of grey. Her small hands clutched a large violet flower very similar in shape and size to the flower Hermione had plucked from the garden months ago.

As Hermione gazed in wonder at the beautiful painting before her, the witch began to move. She tilted her head slightly and blinked at Hermione. Her smile widened, but she said nothing. Hermione couldn't help but smile back at the portrait, though she felt rather silly doing it. As she did so, she noticed a few lines of writing in the top right corner. Standing on her tiptoes to see the fine print better, Hermione read the description with some difficulty:

Nature's Daughter

Iris Zabini

60838, 09/21/99

John Carter

Hermione fell back onto the soles of her feet with a small gasp. So this is Iris.

Flooded with understanding and, at the same time, confusion, Hermione looked around her at the portraits and statues, realising now that the mirror had been making an understatement when it told her Iris was nearly perfect. From these works of art, it was clear that Iris had exceeded perfection.

Now more curious than ever to find out more, Hermione walked a little further to her left and stopped in front of the bookshelf that had been carved into the west wall. Dusty volumes of different sizes were stashed in the crudely carved shelves, their leather-bound covers enveloped in a fine layer of dust, their crumbling pages yellowing with age. It was obvious that these books had been neglected for many years.

Reaching up, Hermione eased out one of the thicker volumes, making sure to not destroy its already-ruined cover even more. As she opened it up, a cloud of dust flew up to greet her. Hermione impatiently waved this away, then eagerly turned her eyes to the page in front of her and began to read the journal entry written on it.

Journal,

So begins the first September after the war. The coming Sunday, I am meeting with the Dark Lord to discuss what will happen next. I feel a mix of apprehension, excitement, and dread. This one meeting will determine whether or not I will be promoted to his inner ranks. If I do make it through, it will most likely be the happiest moment of my life. Finally, I will be achieving one of my goals!

This afternoon, Iris and I took a stroll down the path in my garden. While we were out, it happened: the first snow of the season. It was enchanting, to say the least, but not as much as she was. The snowflakes fell on her hair and caught her eyelashes, making her look like a snow angel...My snow angel. She was beautiful beyond explanation.

It's a good thing Father never knew I kept this journal, or he would probably have disowned me - not that it matters much anymore, considering he's no longer alive. 'You're not supposed to find innocence in life, Draco. You're not supposed to feel.' Yes, that sounds like something he might have say to me. But I can't help what I feel for Iris. I've never felt like this before in my life. She has no idea the emotions she evokes in me. But is it love?

Hermione slammed the journal shut. So this was Draco's room. He knew about it, yet by the dusty state of the objects in it, had not visited it for many years. The mirror had told the truth; he had gone to all measures just to push Iris out of his life.

For a few moments, Hermione remained still, reflecting on what she had just read. When she remembered the last few sentences of the last paragraph, she found to her surprise that tears were welling up in her eyes. Mentally slapping herself, Hermione quickly slid the journal back into its place before she could become even more emotionally moved by it.

As Hermione began to wander around the room, she felt her heart aching for Draco - and she hated herself for it. She wanted to despise him, to loath him, to recall his name with nothing but pure disgust and contempt, yet she found it harder and harder to keep up her guard the more she found out about his past. He was, after all, human, as much as he refused to show it.

When Hermione looked up again, she found herself standing in front of the giant glass snake. Almost mechanically, she leaned in closer and briefly touched her fingertips to the glass. The moment she made contact with the carving, the flame in the center of the snake's coils flared up, turning emerald green as it did so. Hermione withdrew her hand as if she had been shocked by electricity. As soon as her fingers left the statue, the flame returned to its original state.

After recovering from her momentary shock, Hermione tentatively reached out and pressed the palm of her hand against the cool glass. Once again, the flame burst into life, burning the same vivid green. Only when Hermione removed her hand did it fall back down. However, when it did, something had changed; it was no longer a weak, dying flame; on the contrary, it now burned with more vigor and life.

Intrigued by this enchanted flame, Hermione studied it for several minutes. However, when it did nothing new, she sighed and turned away.

Now that she had finished observing everything of interest in the room, Hermione came to realise that she must have been in this room for hours now. Time to go back before the Malfoys return, she thought to herself.

Unfortunately, when she turned to the side of the room from which she had entered, Hermione found to her dismay that the entranceway had somehow disappeared.

"Oh no, this is not good," she muttered to herself as she hurried across the room. She had a vague idea where the door had been, so she began to feel around on the wall desperately.

After a few minutes, her hand bumped into a small knob. "Yes!" she hissed to herself victoriously, pulling the knob. The wall once again faded away and Hermione walked through the unravelled threads of the tapestry, relief flooding through her after her momentary fright.

As soon as Hermione had arrived back on the other side of the wall, the tapestry miraculously wove itself back together. Hermione was too relieved that she'd found her way back out to even care. However, she did silently vow that in the future, she would never enter a secret room without making sure she would be able to leave it first.

Having seen all she could handle for one day, Hermione now hurried back to the stairs and began descending them as quickly as she could. As she paused on the second floor landing, she looked over her shoulder and caught sight of the room Draco had taken her into the night before. As she gazed at the door, an odd chill run down the length of her spine. Shuddering, Hermione averted her eyes and descended the remainder of the stairs.