Chapter One: What are the Takes?
The silence was nearly as loud as the battle had been. No one moved, no one spoke; but the tension was still as thick as ever. Rapidly, the Death Eaters were realizing that their Dark Lord had fallen and they were battling their way out of the castle this time. No longer on the defensive, the Order members and the members of Dumbledore's Army fought to reclaim their stolen land.
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with it. He wasn't trying to flee the castle, and he wasn't trying to force others out either. Taking the indent of where one of the stone soldiers once stood, Draco hid from the battle, just hoping to make it into the next day alive.
Fate was not a kind soul.
Draco heard a low growl, a growl that sent shivers up his spine. Looking up, he saw dark eyes staring back at him, and a muzzle almost touching his nose. He stood frozen, like a deer caught out in the open. He did the only thing he could think of at that moment; flee. He moved to run away from Fenrir Greyback, but Greyback was having none of that.
Draco was about half way out of the alcove when Greyback snapped his head around, catching Draco's right leg with his teeth, sinking into the muscle on the inside of his thigh. He felt a flash of burning pain before he was tossed a few feet away, his skin giving way for the werewolf's sharp teeth. His head smacked into the stone floor first, followed by the rest of his body. He lay on the cold stone, unmoving, unable to feel anything from the shock coursing through his body. He only managed to see the light disappear from above him as a black, tooth-filled head cut into his vision before he closed his eyes, and told himself he was going to die.
Draco waited.
And waited.
For what seemed like an eternity, he waited.
But his death never came.
Instead he vaguely heard a spell being cast. Somewhere, he recognized the faint voice, but he couldn't place it; not now, not when he was so close to just fading into the darkness. He heard something large hit the nearby wall, bits of wall falling upon his already near broken body, and felt the ground vibrate as something landed no more than three feet from him with a yelp. Draco could hear voices this time, talking amongst themselves. Oh how he wished they would shut up; his head pounded too hard to listen to mindless talk right now.
Harry was talking with Ron and Hermione regarding their current situation. They looked on as Greyback remained unmoving, after Harry sent a curse and fly into the wall. Harry didn't want to think about the nasty crack he had heard when the werewolf had landed. Nor did he want to think about the fact that he now stood over Draco's body. Blood was covering half his face, staining his perfect blonde hair. His shirt was ripped in small slashes, and there was blood covering his leg. Draco may not have been the nicest sort, but no one deserved to be mauled by a werewolf.
Harry sighed and turned to Ron with a sad expression. "Best go find Mrs. Malfoy, let her know about her...son." Harry motioned toward Draco's body.
"Harry, do you really think it's wise to go looking for a Death Eater?" Hermione piped in.
"She saved me, there in the woods; if she was truly a Death Eater, she would have turned me over. The least I can do to repay her," Harry said with a small tinge of guilt in his voice. He should have been there, should have stopped this from happening. He should have stopped many deaths from happening, but he couldn't be everywhere he was needed at once.
"Alright, mate, we'll meet you in the Great Hall then?" Ron asked quietly.
"Sounds good," Harry replied, hardly loud enough for Ron and Hermione to hear him. Hermione gave Harry a curious face before she turned and followed Ron down the corridor to try and find Mrs. or Mr. Malfoy.
Harry stood and observed Draco for a few minutes after he became alone; the way Draco's hair just fell in front of his face, not swept back, not groomed; completely out of place for a Malfoy to be sporting. Harry bent down and lifted one of the largest bits of rubble that had fallen on the blonde when Greyback was launched into the wall close by. Harry wanted to do this by hand, just like with Dobby, because he felt it was his fault. He had Draco's wand, and Draco had lost his mother's in the Room of Requirement. He had been defenseless in a Wizarding War.
Harry was on his fifth small chuck of rubble, he knew because he was counting, when he thought he saw a flicker on Draco's face. He set the medium chunk of rock aside and looked closer at the Slytherin's half blood-covered face. He leapt back a second later, when he realized that the small glint was Draco's silver eye, looking back at him, shining with the tears of pain that Draco had yet to shed.
"You...You're not dead?" Harry accused with a hand half covering his mouth.
Draco took a small, very pain filled gasp and whispered back, "Sorry to disappoint you, Potter."
After the initial shock had worn off, Harry threw himself back into gear, this time throwing countless rocks from Draco's body, careful of any cuts or blood that lay beneath the stones. Draco watched Harry with one half open eye. He was in too much pain to think, in too much pain to cry out when Harry accidentally bumped his leg while setting down a piece of the shattered wall. He did, however, cry out when Harry was finished with the rubble, because at that time, Harry gripped him from under his arms and slowly tried to half pick up, and half drag, Draco up against the opposite side wall. Harry had his wand out then, chanting low incantations which slowly started to heal Draco's cuts, bruises, and gashes. Harry took Draco's head softly in his arm and had Draco lean against his chest as he examined his bloody head and once again started the slow healing spells.
Draco was quick, despite everything, to hide the gash on the inside of his upper thigh. Potter had been too interested in Draco's head to notice the act. Draco watched Potter with a little more interest as the Gryffindor leaned him against the wall again and spelled away the blood on Draco's face and body. Why on Earth would Potter care about his condition? But then, he cared enough in the Room of Requirement to save him; maybe this was just about the bloody saving act that Potter convinced himself he had to do.
After being mostly healed, Draco bothered to raise his head, looking at Potter with two open eyes, silver boring into green with curiosity. Potter smiled at him. He actually had the nerve to smile!
"What is it, Potter?" Draco asked with as much sneer in his voice as he could manage in his current state.
"Just wondering, Malfoy," Potter said with a bit of laughter in his voice, "how many times will I have to save you today?" Harry wiped his messy, dirt filled hair out of his face.
Draco gave a half smile for half a second before looking past Potter and noticing the werewolf's unmoving body on the floor, only a few feet away, almost taunting him. He unconsciously slid back a few inches away, Potter seemed to have noticed this movement, however, since he shifted to his left to cut Draco's sight from the body.
Draco cursed himself for the movement. Malfoy's did not show fear, especially not to one's own enemy. Well, was Potter his enemy? Does an enemy heal the other from near death? He didn't know, and he certainly didn't want to ask Potter about it.
Draco never would have gotten a chance to ask Potter even if he wanted to, because suddenly Potter wrapped his arm around Draco, throwing Draco's arm around his neck, and heaving him to his feet. It took great effort for Draco to not scream out in pain or wince when his weight landed on his injured leg.
"And where are we going now Potter?" Draco asked through clenched teeth. Not out of hatred, but out of pain, and the struggle to conceal it, although he didn't have to tell Potter that.
"To the Great Hall," Potter answered with a shrug.
Draco couldn't respond to Potter, for his mouth was busy biting the side of his lip as each step burned his leg and his side. But he would not tell Potter. He couldn't, because saying it out loud would be admitting it to himself what his wound meant, and he wasn't really ready to deal with that at the moment.
The trip seemed to take forever, but must have only been five minutes, before they walked into the Great Hall together. Draco spotted the Mudblood and Weasel right away. They looked shocked, to say the least.
"You mean the Ferret didn't die then?" Weasley asked, almost sounding disappointed to the Slytherin's ears.
"Ron, please try to be civil," Hermione scolded Ron before anyone else had the chance. "Harry, we couldn't find Mr. or Mrs. Malfoy. No one has seen them for at least the past two hours, with no idea where they would have taken off to." Hermione looked to Draco then.
"How the bloody hell would I know where they went?" Draco murmured, more to himself. His mother may love him, but she also loved Lucius, and did whatever he told her. Draco didn't like his father, not that Lucius was ever really a father to him anyway.
Suddenly, a voice rang out in the Great Hall, one Draco never bothered with, but seemed to stand the hairs up on Harry's neck.
"What is he doing here? Malfoy is a Death Eater! Get him out before he tries to kill some of the honored injured," the blonde boy called from where the Hufflepuff table should have been.
There were a few murmurs going about with his comment, and more and more of them turned into agreements of one kind or another.
Weasley turned to Potter then, a hidden smirk on his filthy face. "Maybe he's right Harry, maybe the ferret shouldn't be here, when his parents could have been the ones to kill some of the people here."
Hermione gasped at Ron, and Harry's eyebrows shot up in shock.
"What?" Ron asked defensively. "I'm telling the truth."
Harry suddenly felt very disappointed in Ron. Ron knew that Narcissa lied for him; could have killed him right there in that forest, and the only reason that Harry was still alive was because Draco's mother wanted into the castle; not to fight, only to find her son. But before Harry could voice his disappointment, Draco dislodged from Harry and, standing very proud with head held high, limped his way out of the Great Hall and out of sight.
"Heh, good riddance I say," Ron mumbled under his breath.
Harry, however, was now very concerned. Draco had limped severely, and there was even a small hint of a bloody stain trailing after him. Harry should have healed all of Draco's wounds before he was brought to the Great Hall.
Harry took off toward the exit, and only stopped once before turning back to the exit and following the faint trail of blood.
It did not take Harry long before he realized where Draco was headed. Before long, Harry stood in front of a large set of double doors, one of the sides already cracked open and a small bit of light shining through. Harry opened the door slightly more to see the charred remains of the room of hidden things. All those hidden things were now hardly more than ash and bits of charred remains. Harry glanced over the entire room before finding Draco sitting on the floor, hair hanging down in front of his eyes, across the way from the remains of the Vanishing Cabinet.
Harry slowly walked up to Draco, not sure of what to say, or how to ask if he was alright. Harry knew he couldn't be alright, somehow, something was wrong. When Draco didn't look up, or talk to him, Harry sat down next to Draco, back leaning against what he assumed to be a very old record player, or what remained of it at least. The smell of smoke and ash was still very strong in the room as the boys sat in silence.
Harry suddenly smirked once again, and said, in the best challenging voice he could manage, "Don't you even think about fixing that damnable cabinet this time, Malfoy."
Harry was glad to see the tip of Draco's mouth twitch upward, and he raised his head, just enough to look at Harry with the Malfoy smirk in place.
"What are the takes, Potter?"
Note: So this is the revised chapter one. I now have a wonderful beta Xezo. You should thank her for cleaning up my chapters that I write at three in the morning! :D
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