BACK DOOR
Malfoy felt a strong jerk. His clothes tightened
rapidly on his throat deprived him of breath. He fell backward.
"STUPIFY!"
A stream of energy produced by an
Auror flew right through the place where Malfoy's head had been a
moment ago.
But instead of a hard door and glass, which was to
devastate his back, he met something soft. A trap, a soft one. And he
was not even able to shout a spell.
A trap covered his mouth with
a cold, bony palm and hissed calmingly. Afterwards with no excuses
the trap has pulled the wizard out of a dangerous room of fight.
Malfoy struggled but the trap was keeping him tight. And it did not
let him go until the end of the fight, which was very short,
actually.
When only comments of aurors were coming from behind
the door, the hand withdrew exposing faded lips.
"Where are
my people?" Malfoy whispered.
A bony finger shot towards the
doorknob. Malfoy followed the finger with his look And listened to
the voices. The one commenting the events did certainly not belong to
any of aurors.
"...when Malofy set us here. He was here a
minute ago!"
"Check the bodies once more!" A
screecking old man ordered, the same bastard, who hit him with the
Stinging Hex.
Malfoy drew up and rested on the wall. He throbbed
his hand – red spots were growing and burning but they were not a
really danger. He could also feel his shirt sticking to the body
under the velvet cloak and silk waistcoat. This idiot Macnair.
"Snape, you push your nose where you should not, again."
A black-haired wizard squatting in front of him did not answer.
Macnair was fond of sharp toys. Only fond, never capable.
"Is
Macnair alive?"
Snape nodded.
"Ha! Excellent!"
"So are you."
The steel eyes glittered.
"Why?"
Snape spread his arms. Malfoy sighed.
"What do you want,
Snape?"
"Nothing comes to my mind."
"Take
your time. Keep thinking."
"Later. Keep moving; they're
coming."
They Departed at the same time, each of them into a
different place.
In the darkness of an empty room the screen was
blinking friendly with the screensaver. Malfoy held back his
disappointment. The place was save and that was the most important at
the moment. He could wait there easy until he would make sure he
could get back scot-free. He let his coat slip and throw it
carelessly on the sofa. Slightly limping and hissing quietly he moved
to the kitchen to prepare two mugs of coffee. A muggle kettle was
hiding many secrets but made no difficulties for the user. It was
enough to put scented brown grains from the red pot. The wizard came
back to the desk with the PC unhurriedly, carrying mugs with
awareness.
After a short deliberation he touched a keyboard.
The
screen whitened showing a piece of a text. Malfoy bent and run the
letters with a quick look; he smirked amused. He settled on a chair
and moved the mouse checking its operation. The text on the screen
scrolled up. The man sunk in his reading. He had just gone through
several paragraphs when he heard the cracking of keys. The door
opened.
"It was not my best day."
There was only
the sever silence behind his back. Malfoy felt the panic seizing him.
Gulping he stretched out his arm with a mug towards a hooded figure
wrapped in a dark cloak standing on a threshold.
The hand was
trembling of pain, weariness and flood of emotions.
"But
still, you can change it."
The figure approached and lifted
the mug to her mouth with a quiet murmur of delight.