A/N: I got impatient, I was going to wait to submit this until tomorrow, or even the day after, but I ended up adding to the end of the chapter and liked it so much I was like ah fack it. Also yes, you may be like Jesus, for a Harry/Draco fic this isn't seeming that way but I'm sorry, I'm trying to aim for some realistic characterisation as I mentioned, so we gotta work for our love here, okay? Okay c: and I'm sorry but poor old Harry gets quite battered in this one.
Autumn is for dying
Chapter 2
Hermione was getting into position when the door handle rattled. Harry watched as Ron put himself between the bushy haired witch and the door, and moved to join his friend, wand outstretched, in case she didn't make them an exit in time.
It was funny, out of the three of them she was by far the most skilled with a wand, the most adept at magic and the most likely to enter a duel with a strategy, and yet the pair of boys had long since fallen into a pattern of pushing her to the back, further from harms way. For Harry, the explanation was simple; he would rather face the brunt of whatever was coming their way than either of his friends, but Ron being taller than him made it hard to pull the redhead back, so he had to settle for covering Hermione. For Ron... Harry suspected Ron had stronger feelings for Hermione, but seeing as neither of his friends were willing to admit it, there was nothing he could say about the matter.
"Come on, Hermione..." Ron groaned as something, a body or curse, hit the door hard, leaving it shaking.
"Okay, okay!" She snapped, "This is the place, I'm sure of it!"
"Well then do it!" Harry shouted back, watching with wide eyes as a glowing spiderweb of cracks began to form in the wood of the door.
"Suero Bombarde!" Hermione yelled. Harry's head whipped around to see her wave her wand, not in a small flick as before with the portrait, but in a wide swing followed by a stabbing motion, backed up with a push from her other hand. A jet of dark red light spat from the end of her wand and buried its self in the stone wall. For a second, nothing happened, and Harry began to worry the spell had failed. But he needn't have worried.
"Get back!" Hermione yelled shrilly, whipping herself around and running to crouch near one of the beds.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, then quickly followed suit. The whole room began to shake and vibrate, like they were caught in an earthquake. Harry covered his head. In an almighty inhalation, all the air and light left the room, then with a deafening boom, half of the wall was ripped from the very structure of the castle, flying backwards into... into...
Hermione was wrong.
Lake water came rushing in. Harry barely had a moment to take a breath before the black water hit him hard. It swept him up and back, cracking his head against the stone wall. The light in the room had not returned, and he struggled blindly against the force of the water as it filled the room.
After a moment of suffocating madness, the waters reached an equilibrium and stilled, and as Harry's lungs screamed for air, he managed to open his eyes. Through the murky black waters, moonlight shone and illuminated the ruins of the bedroom. Ahead of him, Ron was swimming forwards, clutching on to the edge of the building. Harry swept his head to his right, to the side of the room where Hermione had been crouching. She wasn't there.
Pushing off from the wall with his feet, he kicked violently, twisting up and over until he caught sight of her dark form, floating motionlessly a few feet from the flooded floor.
Although his very soul was screaming for him to just swim up and away, to reach the air he so desperately needed, he grabbed onto the front of her coat, and slowly pulled her up with him.
Before he reached the open lake outside of the ruined wall, Ron had returned from the surface and reached to take Hermione from him. Harry relinquished the weight gladly, putting the rest of his energy into simply reaching the glittering surface above him.
The breath of air he choked down as he crested the surface was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.
"Harry?!" He could hear Ron spluttering to one side. Treading water, he span around until he caught sight of his friends.
"Is..is she..." Trying to talk unbalanced him, and Harry found himself slipping back under. His clothes and backpack were dragging him down, weightlessness charms or not. He slipped the pack off, letting it float down into the dark, and kicked his shoes off.
"Is she breathing?" Swimming was much easier now.
"Yes! Get to... get to shore!" He didn't need telling twice.
The muddy ground had little purchase to it, but it was a welcome struggle to crawl out of the inky lake. Flipping over onto his back, Harry just breathed. He wished it was the first time he'd nearly drowned whilst being pursued by Death Eaters, but it wasn't even the second. How many of these should-be unusual circumstances were going to become old hat before this war was over? A twenty one year old man shouldn't long for a normal, boring life, but here he was. When breathing became easy again, Harry sat up.
"You alright, mate?" Ron wasn't far away, sitting up and patting a coughing Hermione on the back.
"Yeah, not bad." Harry staggered upright. "Fuck, lost my wand though."
"I managed to keep hold of mine." Ron replied, his focus on the wheezing girl doubled over beside him. "Breathe, Herm." He said gently, rubbing circles on her back. She coughed a final time then looked up to Harry. Her hair was still perfectly slicked back into that bun, unlike Harry's straggly mess currently falling into his eyes. Now his hair was getting longer, perhaps he'd have to take some tips from her.
"I'm sorry, Harry." She croaked, turning to sit back. "I really thought we were further over."
Harry laughed, pulling his shirt over his head. "We're alive, that's all that matters." He glanced over at the two of them, currently giving him strange looks as he also slipped his heavy jeans off and stood there in nothing but his black underwear.
"Harry, mate... what are you doing?" Ron asked, an eyebrow raised. Harry sighed as he stepped back towards the lake.
"My wand isn't going to get itself back." He said, "And the longer I stay out of water, the colder it's going to be when I get back in."
"But... the Death Eaters..." Hermione protested. "I'll just accio it..." Harry didn't bother glancing back.
"Too much water, too much magic and you know it. And as for the Death Eaters, if they didn't manage to break the door down before you bust the wall, I doubt they'll be stupid enough to do it now." He took a deep breath and began to wade forward, back into the inky gloom.
"Be careful!" He heard Hermione shout. Waving a hand, he reached waist high water, and dove in.
It took a few minutes of careful swimming to relocate the opening in the building. Above water level nothing betrayed it's location, but once Harry got close enough to see in the dark depths, he could easily spot the gaping hole in the building. It marred the castle like a giant creature had taken a bite out of the side of it. Having known her for years, Harry was rarely impressed by Hermione's magical feats anymore, but this was something awesome.
Taking a final breath, Harry swam down to the hole and pulled himself into the room. The moonlight filtered down through the water lazily, illuminating the dormitory enough that Harry could see the furniture and walls, but not much more unless he was closer. He kicked and pushed at the water, fighting the buoyancy of the air in his lungs, until he could grab onto one of the beds and use it as an anchor as he searched the floor.
He found nothing with his first lungful of air, and unfortunately, did not bother to glance over at the doorway to the staircase before he swam back to the surface for another breath. Unbeknownst to him, the spell Hermione had cast to seal the door against intruders had the added effect of making the room soundproof. The spell had hidden the explosion and resultant destruction from the intruders trying to break in.
Harry searched the room by blurry sight and by feel, until finally, he felt a familiar shape beneath his fingers. Cheering inwardly, he flipped over and kicked off from the bottom, pushing up once more for the surface.
But it was too late.
Behind him, the glowing cracks in the door had been creeping slowly outwards until they covered it like a shattered mirror, and just as Harry could touch the hole in the wall with his outstretched fingertips, the door disintegrated in its frame.
An unsuspecting Death Eater was slammed back into the stone behind by the wall of water rushing in and down the stairs.
Harry was caught up in the powerful current that whirled and dragged him back down and through the door. He was swept down the stairs on the wave spared no bumps by the water, hitting every step, corner and person in his way.
Water rushed into the common room, sweeping aside the gruesome scene like the wave of a giant hand. Harry slammed into the back of one of the chairs, catching a glimpse of several cloaked persons being swept to the floor around him.
If Harry had been paying attention, he would have heard a voice yell an incantation, would have seen the desperate wave of the wand that accompanied it.
Like a faucet being twisted, the water stopped abruptly. Harry was dropped to the floor, winded and spluttering. The water had only reached a couple of feet in depth, and with a strained and painful push, Harry sat up, thanking his stars that he'd somehow, this time, managed to keep a hold of his wand.
Not that it was going to matter, as when he lifted his head to assess his situation, he found himself staring at the end of another wand, held inches in front of his face.
"Hello, Potter."
That voice...
"Malfoy?" Harry asked, incredulously.
"In the flesh. Your wand?" Harry didn't move, his heart pounding and his brain racing. Around them he could see several other dark figures slowly getting up, sending waves through the water as they moved. The water reached his waist as he sat, his wand hidden in a clutched hand beneath the surface.
"I don't have it." He lied, squinting up to try and get a glimpse of his would-be captor beneath his hood. It was too dark. The pale yellow luminescent charm he'd cast at the ceiling was still the only source of light in the room and it was fading rapidly as time went by.
"Don't lie." Malfoy hissed, leaning forward and placing the tip of his wand at Harry's throat. Harry swallowed, involuntarily tipping his head back slightly against the pressure. He refused to let fear or panic throw him off of his game, he'd been fighting this war too long for that, but finding out that it was Draco Malfoy who had a wand to his neck was disconcerting.
"I'm not." Harry ground, wishing he wasn't as exposed as he was, sat there in his underwear and surrounded by enemies. He needed to figure out a plan of escape, or at least a plan of attack to delay his murder or abduction before Ron and Hermione figured out he was in trouble and came to help. "I lost it when your moronic friends opened the door and let the lake in." Malfoy stayed silent and still for a moment, as if contemplating his answer, and for a brief moment Harry thought he'd get a chance to use the hidden wand.
The moment broke, however, when another Death Eater sloshed through the knee-deep water, paused for a second, looked down at Harry, then lashed out violently, kicking him in the head.
Harry fell to one side, stars exploding behind his eyes and ears ringing. He fell beneath the water, the shock of the hit blacking him out for a second.
Before he could recover and push himself up, someone grabbed him by his hair, wrenching him to his knees.
He spluttered and coughed, water in his eyes, mouth and nose, and the side of his head feeling like a fiery ball of ache.
"Take his wand, Draco." He heard a deep voice command. Cold fingers closed around his wrist and wrestled his wand from him.
He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to squeeze the lake water out and clear his vision. He mustn't panic. A wand poked painfully into the hollow of his throat, and the hand buried in his hair tightened, pulling him up to his feet.
"Dressed for the occasion?" The deep voice mocked before Harry caught a fist to his bare stomach, knocking the wind from him and doubling him over as far as the hand pulling his hair would let him. "Disgusting."
"Fuck you." Harry croaked, grabbing at the hand in his hair and swinging a fist blindly to his left. Before it could connect, however, it was grabbed and pulled behind his back. His hair was released and his other arm restrained with the first.
"Fuck you!" Harry repeated, struggling and twisting to try and free himself. Malfoy was stood ahead of him, wand pointed steadily forwards. The Death Eater who held his arms behind him was strong, very strong and much larger than Harry. His struggles were ineffective, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't struggle until his last ounce of strength.
"It's useless wriggling, you silly prick." The man holding him snarled, pushing Harry's arms further up his back, eliciting a pained gasp from the smaller man. The voice sounded familiar somehow, but Harry couldn't place it in the moment. "You're going nowhere." Where were Ron and Hermione? They must have seen the water move as it rushed down into the Slytherin common room.
Harry kicked back, hard, with his bare feet. His captor barely flinched. "I will break your fucking arms." The voice had become a growl, almost. Recognition clicked in Harry and his blood froze.
Fenrir Greyback.
That explained the raw power of the man holding him.
"Incarcerous." Harry didn't have time to react before Malfoy's curse hit him and he was bound, hand and foot, with thick, grey ropes. Greyback released him, letting Harry fall to his knees. Harry, breathing heavily, hissed in pain as the ropes tightened, digging a bloody groove into his wrists.
Another Death Eater, across the room, shouted something Harry didn't catch, but drew the attention of Malfoy, who quickly strode away.
Harry felt the water move around his hips as Greyback walked slowly to face him.
"Harry fucking Potter." The man, if he could still be described as that, crouched into a squat, and reached a filthy, clawed hand out to grab Harry's chin. "The Dark Lord will be pleased." He tipped Harry's chin up, holding him in an iron grip, impossible to resist. Harry grimaced, feeling the werewolf's sharp nails dig into his skin as he tilted Harry's face to one side and the other, inspecting him. "How the fuck you've lasted this long, I'll never know." He leaned in closer, and Harry nearly gagged at the stench of his breath. "You're soft. Weak." His eyes, a dark yellow that shone almost gold in the fading light overhead, raked up and down Harry's body, sending a shiver down his spine. "And you're going to die."
"Get the fuck off me," Harry spat, trying to jerk his face from Greyback's hand. The werewolf held on with an amused snort.
"Where are your friends, then?" Greyback breathed, close enough to Harry's face now that he could feel the heat from his skin, see each pockmark and scar that peppered the werewolf's face. "The Weasley? The mudblood girl?" He grinned, revealing a wide, unbroken bank of sharp yellow teeth. "I'd love to take bit out of that little bitch. I bet she's juicy-" Rage swelled in Harry's gut, turning his vision red, and with a yell he launched his whole body forward, breaking the grip on his face and sending his forehead flying into Greyback's nose.
A sick crunch greeted the collision, and the werewolf let out a pained howl as hot blood spurted down his face. With his hands tied behind him, Harry couldn't stop himself from slipping back under the cold water as he landed. He twisted desperately around, surfacing and looking for something to cut his bonds and free himself with. In front of him, Greyback was reeling backwards, hand pressed to his bleeding face.
Each second passing felt like a gunshot, time flying by as Harry shuffled forwards, spotting a broken chair with a sharp corner. He could hear footsteps around him, feel the water splashing and surging as the Death Eaters approaching him made waves. It only took a second for him to slice far enough through his ankle bindings to be able to snap the rope and free his legs. He leapt to his feet, hands still tied behind him, and turned to face the enemy.
There were four hooded Death Eaters in the room besides the now-upright Greyback, who was approaching him slowly, a hideously predatory expression on his busted and bloody face. From distance, Harry couldn't tell which one was Malfoy, or guess at the identity of the other three. He didn't know why he hadn't been cursed him from afar as soon as he broke free of the werewolf, but he didn't plan on hanging around to find out. He turned and sprinted, Hermione's hole in the wall his target.
The water slowed him less than the Death Eaters, his almost naked body allowing him a strange advantage over the sodden, heavy cloaks of the his pursuers.
Shouting followed him, and as the last of the light faded from above and the room plunged into darkness, bright curses were thrown. Burning jets of green and white light aimed blindly, hitting the water and walls around but not hitting Harry. As he reached the hole, his bare feet began to radiate with agony as he stumbled and tripped over sharp pieces of rubble - stone and wood shards sticking into him.
He didn't let it slow him down and made it into the corridor just as Fenrir Greyback, spitting and snarling, slammed into the wall beside him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." He chanted as he ran, the water level lowering and finally disappearing as he slid and leaped up the slight incline of the corridor.
He made it quite far running in almost perfect darkness, bouncing off the the walls and avoiding slipping over on the slimy rocks. But his luck finally ran out, and just as he turned the last corner of the dungeon, moonlight from the open entrance door beyond lighting the way, a curse hit the back of one of his legs and sent him sprawling.
The Death Eaters were on him in seconds, grabbing his arms and pinning him between two of them so tightly he could barely breathe. Greyback strode up to him and slapped him, hard, around the face. Harry's head snapped to one side and he tasted blood.
"We need to get him off of the grounds now, before any more of the fucking Order show up!" An unknown Death Eater hissed at the werewolf. Greyback grunted, giving Harry one last look filled with hate and the promise of future pain, and span on his heel.
Harry was marched forwards.
Okay, what was his plan? What was his plan? He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. Fear, as much as he had fought against it, gripped his mind, his aching head, in a vice. This couldn't be the end, not after everything. Where were Ron and Hermione? Bill Weasley and Lupin? God, he hoped they hadn't been caught as well, or worse.
As they reached the doorway to the outside, the freezing night breeze reminded him that he was cold, wet and mostly naked. His feet, however, were burning white hot with pain. He looked down and saw that his tan skin was slick with blood from the ankles downwards. On the leg that had caught the curse, a nasty red welt was raising and beginning to bleed.
He was in a bit of a pickle.
"Keep walking, Potter." Ah, so Malfoy was one of the two currently frog marching him through the cold grass.
"Malfoy." He said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "Come on-"
"Shut the fuck up." Malfoy snapped, jerking his arm painfully. Harry pulled back automatically, a reactionary move. It earned him a wand pointed a few inches from his mouth. "Stop it."
But he couldn't. If he could just slow them down, stop the march for a few moments, give his friends time to catch up with them, maybe he'd have a chance to escape. And so, knowing it would definitely end in more pain for himself, he kicked his leg out, hooking it around one of the blonde Death Eater's legs and sending the two of them tumbling to the ground.
"Come on!" He heard Greyback howl in frustration. Harry landed on his back with one of Malfoy's legs pinned beneath him.
Malfoy kicked Harry in the side with his free leg, knocking the wind out of him. If he did manage to get out of this situation Harry knew he was going to look like a murder victim with all these bruises and cuts.
Harry tried to twist and kick at the blonde man, but his arms were still pinned behind him, restricting his movement.
As he laid on his back, fighting for his life, he could see the moon, fat and almost-full, shining bright. He supposed it was good luck that it wasn't full, what with Fenrir Greyback on the prowl. Then again, he was a little old for the werewolf's tastes.
Malfoy managed to pull his leg from beneath the darker man's body, kicking out at him again. But as pain exploded in his side, it was soon replaced by a much, much deeper agony.
"Crucio!" Fire exploded in all his nerves and the sky disappeared from his vision, replaced by the dark red of the back of his eyelids as he screwed his eyes shut. Harry curled in on himself, his fingers clawing over like a Parkinson's sufferer. The pain came in quick waves, engulfing and overwhelming, driving him to madness. It was like someone had skinned him alive and submerged him in a vat of lemon juice. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out, his vocal cords as strained as every other muscle in his body, tightening in a useless defence against the magical assault.
And then, as immediately as it had begun, it was over. Harry returned to the world, slumped on his side, panting. His muscles relaxed, but twitched randomly as his body tried to reset itself in the aftermath of the attack. Quite unwillingly, a hot tear slowly welled up and fell from one of his eyes. His body felt cold, laid in the dark.
"Get up." His attacker, one of the nameless Death Eaters, was approaching him slowly, wand out. Next to him, he could hear Malfoy scrambling to his feet. Harry couldn't have moved even if he'd have wanted to. "Get him up!" His arms were grabbed with cold hands, and he was pulled upright, but he was both unwilling and unable to support his weight, and slumped heavily against an unsteady figure.
"Fucking pathetic." He heard a grumble before he felt large, clawed hands grab him around the waist and under one leg, and he was lifted. He was deposited ungently over Fenrir Greyback's shoulder, a single hand gripping him around the thigh to keep him in place. His world was spinning and he almost vomited down the werewolf's back. "Let's go."
As he was bounced painfully up and down, the ground beneath changed from grass to gravel, and his hope began to fade as he recognised it as the path leading to the boundary of the grounds. Soon they'd be able to apparate him away, away from safety, away from any possibility of rescue by his friends. Away to his certain murder at the hands of his worst enemy. He wanted to struggle, to free himself, to pull his hands out of the bindings that still cut into his wrists, to kick away from Fenrir Greybacks grip which was uncomfortable in more ways than he'd like, deliberately placed too high around his inner thigh. But he couldn't. Beaten, bruised and bloody, injuries piled on injuries and the final torture curse had robbed him of his last strength. He could only wait as the troop made their way beyond the point of no return.
