FAILSAFE

Chapter Sixteen

Fear was such a peculiar thing, Draco mused to himself, bitterness gnawing at his insides like a relentless serpent. The twisted dance of instinct and survival within the body's response to imminent danger never failed to bewilder him.

Memories of his father flooded Draco's mind like a torrential storm, a haunting presence that refused to be exorcised from his thoughts. Lucius Malfoy loomed over Draco's past, a shadowy spectre that haunted him even inside the confines of the castle.

Lucius had wielded his authority with merciless precision, his cane serving as both a symbol of punishment and a tool to enforce compliance. For Draco, the fear that had gripped him in his father's company often morphed into a simmering rage, a fiery rebellion that silently overtook him.

The scars left by Lucius's cruelty ran deep, etched into Draco's very soul like dark tendrils of shadow. They shaped the way he viewed the world, the way he approached every challenge and obstacle that crossed his path.

Yet amidst the echoing halls of uncertainty, Draco felt a flicker of something new stirring within him. It was a spark of defiance, a quiet resolve that refused to be extinguished by the shadows of his past — or the twisting and twirling shadows that enveloped Draco and Hermione as they sprinted through the decaying corridors.

Draco's heart thumped forcefully in his chest, the surge of adrenaline electrifying his every nerve as they fled. With Hermione's quivering hand clasped in his own, he felt anchored.

The castle seemed to shrink around them, the walls closing in as if to suffocate their hope of escape. The rumbling of the foundation beneath their feet made it difficult to maintain their balance as they navigated the twisting corridors. They had to make it to the entrance, Draco knew. If they could just reach the open air outside, perhaps they would stand a better chance against whatever awaited—against him.

Above them, the once-grand ceiling of the castle crumbled inward, the sound of crashing stone echoing like thunder through the halls. Draco could feel the weight of the deteriorating structure pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless force. Books and parchment cascaded around them like a torrential downpour, the sharp edges of the debris cutting through the air with lethal precision. They had to weave and dodge, their movements fluid as they fought to avoid the deadly rain of rubble.

Hermione stumbled, a cry of alarm escaping her lips as she lost her footing. Draco lunged forward, his hand snatching her wrist just in time. The impact jarred through his arm, and, for a brief moment, a dangerous thought flickered through Draco's mind.

He could let go, allow Hermione to make a run for it on her own.

He could take Adrian or die trying.

The weight of Pansy's tragic fate lingered in his thoughts as he imagined her venturing out, alone and vulnerable, in search of him. The what-ifs, the haunting fear of failure, threatened to paralyse him. He couldn't bear the idea of Hermione facing a similar fate, of the guilt that would consume him if he let her go.

So, despite the raging turmoil within him, Draco held on tightly to Hermione's wrist, his grip firm. He gritted his teeth against the pain shooting through his arm.

"We have to keep moving." Draco's voice was a low growl, barely audible above the havoc surrounding them.

At first, Draco was unable to shake the uneasy feeling that settled over him. He found it strange that Adrian did not chase them or intervene as they fled. After leaving the tower, it appeared that Adrian had vanished, leaving Draco on edge.

The pair were on the cusp of reaching the stairwell when the haunting hum filled the air once more, its melody now a discordant symphony that grated against Draco's nerves. The sound seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.