Whatever they were looking for was here. The room's protections were stronger to keep them from finding it. Her eyes scanned the desk, the archway to the kitchen, and the door leading to the rest of the residence.

Her brows furrowed. Something was wrong.

She closed her eyes and tried to envision what she'd seen when they entered. A sitting room. A path to the kitchen. And—

"Wasn't there another door?" Draco said.

Her eyes shot open, and she spun to him. He was staring at the place where the window to the ocean had been charmed. There was just a painting there.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "No. No, sorry, I guess—"

"You're right. There was." She pointed her wand at the wall. "Revelio!"

Like a fog clearing, a door materialized in the stone wall. Draco staggered backward as Hermione's heart pounded in her throat. She rushed forward, casting a few hex-detection charms on the brass handle. All negative. Draco dipped his chin in a nod, and she pulled the door open, both of their wands at the ready.

More stairs leading downward — this tunnel blacker than the one before. Hermione steeled herself and started to descend, not daring to glance back at Draco.

The air was thick and humid, like they were walking into hell itself. The walls were wet, and in the silence between their footsteps, she thought she could hear something else in the darkness. Something whispering.

The spiraling slowed, and Hermione's eyes locked on a large cavern waiting to swallow them at the end of the stairs. She held her breath and didn't blink until she stepped off the final step and into the darkness. Her Lumos Maxima had barely left her wand when she turned to find Draco stepping next to her. His eyes widened and darted about as the light bloomed, and she turned to follow his gaze.

Gold and silver and books and paintings stacked up at least thirty feet high. Expensive furnishings and cabinets with china. It was like stepping into a corner of the Room of Hidden Things, only the clutter wasn't broken or discarded — it was treasure.

Her feet carried her forward as she scanned the rugs and tapestries. An open chest full of jewelry. There was a Horcrux in this room. Somewhere. Buried beneath the piles of necklaces and rings? Tucked between the Degas and the Rembrandt?

"We shouldn't touch anything," she said. "There was a Gemini Curse in the vault where—" Bellatrix's vault, she realized a moment too late—"where we found the cup."

Turning around, she found Draco just behind her. His face was unreadable as he dug into his robes and produced the basilisk fang. He extended it to her.

She jerked her head. "It should be you. I've already done one."

It had to be him. If Voldemort fell, killing a Horcrux might be the thing that saved him. And his parents.

He looked ready to argue with her, but he kept it as he moved to a wardrobe. He opened the doors of it with a wave of his wand, and billowing skirts tumbled out — dresses from hundreds of years ago. He crept closer, opening the pockets of coats with the tip of his wand.