"I have an idea, Professor," Draco said. He had stayed after class and followed Snape into his office, where the potion meant as an antidote for Potter stewed, nearly finished. Draco cast it a careless glance and leaned casually on the wall next to it. Snape's gaze narrowed on him.
"What would this idea concern, Mr. Malfoy?"
Draco tipped his chin up. "This antidote you're working on." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial filled with a deep orange substance. Snape eyed it with a narrow glance, stepping deliberately closer to his cauldron. "We can mix it with this: It's a delayed paralytic -"
"I know what it is, Mr. Malfoy." Snape stopped in front of the cauldron and loomed. "What do you intend to accomplish here?"
Draco's eyes glittered. "The potion will be rendered useless, and you'll frown and go back to your notes, wondering where you went wrong. Later that night, I'll portkey Potter to the Manor, where the Dark Lord will do what he wishes with him, and we will be rewarded handsomely."
Snape's hands disappeared from view behind his robes.
"Do you really think I did not come up with a thousand similar plots?" Snape asked in a low voice. Draco raised a contemptuous eyebrow. "Pomfrey will discover the addition. She tests every potion she gives to our Golden Boy." He sneered this last bit, and Draco tipped his head. It was a good lie.
"So delay the antidote for a bit longer, and I'll capture him when he next sneaks off from the Weasel and the Mudblood," Draco said dismissively. "And I'll take him then. I just thought you might want a part in the glory. It'll be such a surprise, after all. According to my mother, the Dark Lord is completely unaware of Potter's condition. Strange, isn't it?"
Draco allowed his lip to curl slightly while he waited to see what Snape would do next. Draco had held his wand in hand this whole time, hidden by his robes. He would not lose this opportunity because of carelessness. There was a brief pause, then:
"There are certain precautions I must take, as a double agent," Snape drawled. "One of those precautions is making magically binding vows of silence in situations where Dumbledore would not otherwise trust me. In this situation, I assumed that the vow would be little trouble, as my Slytherins are well acquainted with Potter's circumstances, and are fully capable of penning a letter." He paused delicately. "I believe your mother is currently in residence with the Dark Lord." He paused again, and met Draco's eyes coldly. "I am personally as astonished by his ignorance as you claim to be."
Draco raised an eyebrow. Touche.
It was a lie. Dumbledore wouldn't bother with requiring a vow of silence from Snape when he was well aware that the entire school would be able to talk about it. It was shocking that the newspapers hadn't already gotten hold of the story, as a matter of fact. If Draco had wanted to believe Snape, he could have. But if he was smart, or if he had been waiting for a sign…
He was about to take a risk, one that stood a chance of immolating any hope he had of keeping his family safe if he was wrong. But it was a calculated risk, and he'd weighed his options.
"You're disloyal," Draco's voice was barely audible. The swelling in his chest didn't distract him from the widening of Snape's eyes, or the subtle movement that could only be Snape reaching for his wand. Draco could handle the kind of verbal battle they'd just waged, but another run-in like the one in the alley would likely damage his poor Slytherin nerves beyond repair. He finished his thought quickly. "Good."
Snape lowered his wand and stared at Draco, calculating.
"You have had plenty of opportunities to take him before now," he noted. Draco nodded.
"A house elf has been following Potter around since Sunday," Snape continued. "The old Malfoy elf that now works in the Hogwarts kitchens."
"My doing," Draco allowed. "Weasley and Granger are appalling caretakers. They lose him constantly. Finding him playing with a mutt in an alley in Hogsmede was the last straw."
Snape's expression went from cautious to wrathful so quickly that Draco nearly took a step back. "They are careless and incompetent," he spat, and visibly restrained himself from continuing. Draco felt vindicated. Weasley and Granger were useless.
Snape examined Draco with an interested eye. "What do you hope to gain here?"
Draco took a deep breath.
"My mother is still at Malfoy Manor…"
"You didn't do anything to him."
Draco had been minding his own business, walking to lunch after his meeting with Snape, when Granger ambushed him. Her words were juxtaposed with the wand held to his throat.
"Imagine that," Draco said, lifting his hand to try to push the wand away. Granger pressed it closer, so that now it was actually causing him discomfort. Draco dropped his hand.
"Why didn't you do anything to him?" she demanded, glaring at him. "What are you planning? Are you trying to gain his trust and then hurt him? What good is that going to do, Malfoy?"
"I already have his trust, Granger, as you're well aware." Draco tried to push himself up the wall of the alcove in an attempt to use his full height as a means of discouraging her. It would never work and he knew that, but the current psychological disadvantage of being beneath a Mudblood's eye level was one that Draco did not enjoy.
"Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work," Granger hissed, emphasizing her point by briefly cutting off Draco's air supply with her wand.
It occurred to Draco that he was really quite afraid of her sometimes. Like now.
"There's a house elf here that is incredibly loyal to Harry," Granger continued, "And he's been keeping an eye on him since Hogsmede. You're not getting near him, Malfoy."
Considering the pros and cons of revealing his part in the house elf situation was probably the best course of action, but Draco felt he was probably biased at the moment toward getting Granger's wand out of his throat before she spoke one of the many curses housed in that giant brain of hers.
"Who do you think suggested that?" Draco asked, leaning his head as far back against the stone as possible. "Dobby and I go way back, and this time, we had a common goal."
Granger faltered. "Dobby adores Harry, he wouldn't -"
Draco snarled and stood up straight. "The common goal was to protect him, you - Granger." He kept in mind that her wand was still aimed at him, at chest level now. "It's a goal that, as far as I can tell, you and I don't share. How can you not have eighty different spells on him by now that track his every movement? Especially when you take him out of the castle! Do you know how close you came to losing him and the war, if someone had gotten hold of him and taken him to the Dark Lord?"
Granger stared at him, blinking, and took a step back. She didn't lower her wand, but there was a respectable distance between them now. Draco could breathe air that wasn't filled with her stink.
"What do you care about whether we lose the war? What are you planning?" Her voice was less belligerent now, more uncertain. He had definitely tipped the scales in his favour.
"Little Potter is...different. From his older self," Draco began. "He's much more clever, much sneakier, much more willing to step out of line."
The corner's of Granger's mouth lifted, in a way that looked almost involuntary, and she opened her mouth to say something. Draco ignored her attempted interruption and continued.
"I like him. The other Slytherins like him. We see little Potter as what teenage Potter could have been: one of us."
Granger's smile vanished.
"Point being: some of us don't really want to turn him over to the Dark Lord. We'd like to avoid the whole situation, really."
Granger stared at him silently. Draco decided that all of this had been far too complicated for her simple mudblood brain. He wondered if she would have had a better time of it if he'd written a book about it, or presented it as a lecture.
"Do you see what I'm saying, Granger?" he asked, just to check. "If, when Potter is dosed with the antidote and is back to normal, he feels that he might want to...reach out to us Slytherins, we will be waiting."
Granger nodded and lowered her wand, still looking astonished. It was as much as Draco could have asked for, and he left.
After Draco caught Snape out, their conversation had turned to Draco's concern for his mother. Snape had promised to talk to Dumbledore and work something out, soon.
The note that arrived at lunch the next day, then, was greeted with hope.
"What does Snape want?" Theo asked as Draco slit the parchment open with jerky motions. Little Potter and his guardians weren't at their table. Draco had noticed yesterday that now that Potter's desire for revenge was satisfied, Snape was moving along smoothly with the antidote. It might even be done today, and Draco could find out how teenage Potter would react to his new reputation with the Slytherins.
Draco unfolded the letter and read through it. When he finished, he sat very still and tried to regulate his breathing.
"Draco? Draco, are you okay?"
Somewhere very far away, someone was calling his name. Draco pulled himself back into the Great Hall and looked to the voice. It was Pansy next to him, looking concerned.
"Draco, what's wrong?"
The letter was shaking in Draco's hand, a fine tremor that ran up his arm and into his very bones.
"There's nothing he can do," Draco said, and let the parchment fall from his hand. Fury was beginning to well up in the pit of his stomach, and it spread through to his fingertips. "Dumbledore said he can't help me save my mother. He's going to let her stay there to die when the Dark Lord finds out that I've helped Potter. Which he will. Of course he will."
Theo gripped Draco's arm bracingly, and Pansy put her hand on his shoulder. He hardly noticed. "Oh, Draco," Pansy breathed. "What are you going to do?"
Draco stood. "I'm going to talk to Dumbledore. If he'll tell me to my face that he's going to let my mother be murdered, then... well, maybe I should have just taken Potter to the Dark Lord in the first place."
Pansy's mouth tightened, and Theo's jaw was set, but they both nodded.
"Do you want us to go with you?" Pansy asked, standing when Draco did. He shook his head and left, still shaking with his anger.
Outside Dumbledore's office, Draco confronted the gargoyles. They stared at him silently, and Draco's glare did little to persuade them to open. This barrier between him and the source of his ire had the opposite of a calming effect.
When Snape arrived, carrying something that steamed in his hands, he regarded Draco with narrowed eyes for only a moment before speaking the password and allowing Draco to step onto the rotating staircase first.
Draco didn't wait for him, taking the stairs two at a time and bursting into the office before Snape took his first step onto the stairs.
Little Potter was there, and he grinned and waved when he saw Draco. Weasley and Granger were there too, but Draco ignored all three of them and turned his focus on Dumbledore instead.
"You can't help her, or you won't?" he spat. Behind him, little Potter stopped trying to get his attention and subsided into his chair. Dumbledore looked at Draco sorrowfully, and sat back in his chair.
"I am sorry, Mr. Malfoy," he said. "But you must understand-"
"Bull. Shit." Draco enunciated each syllable carefully. "I don't want to hear it. You can help her. You just don't want to. You'd let her die."
Draco was vaguely aware that Weasley had jumped up out of his seat when Draco interrupted Dumbledore, but he didn't really care. This had nothing to do with that git.
"Mr. Malfoy -"
"No." Draco's voice was cold, and he advanced until he was leaning right over the desk, eye to eye with Dumbledore. He glanced at the door, where Snape stood still as a statue, watching the interaction. "You would let my mother be killed by Voldemort because you don't want to bother. So here's what's going to happen. Either you help me get her somewhere safe, or "
"You don't have the right to tell Dumbledore what to do!" Draco spun around to see Weasley still on his feet, fists clenched and ignoring Granger's quelling hand on his arm. Potter sat huddled in his chair, looking small and watching the scene with wide, frightened eyes.
"Fuck you, Weasley," Draco snarled, his voice thick with venom. "Shut your ugly fucking mouth."
Weasley went dark red with anger. "Good riddance, I say," he retorted. "I think it'd be great if the world had one less Malfoy to deal with"
Draco growled and leapt at him, but Snape's spell held him back just in time to avoid the Weasel's untimely death. Draco clawed at the air, struggling like a fish on a line. His breath was coming heavy, he felt more enraged than he had ever been in his life, and he was about ten seconds from bursting into furious tears. Little Potter had vanished; he was probably hiding. He'd looked terrified.
"Let me down!"
"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore began again. Draco's vision darkened.
"I am leaving," he repeated, feeling distant again like he had in the Great Hall. His anger had turned to ice, though his voice didn't reflect it, wavering dangerously. "I am going to tell all the Slytherins that you're a useless old bat, and I am going back to the Manor. I am going to stay there with my mother. I am not leaving her to be brutally murdered because some fucking Gryffindor can't grasp the idea that a Slytherin might have the ability to love his family, and care what happens to them. I'm going. Let me down now."
"Draco," Snape said, as he lowered him to the ground. "We'll find a way. Let me give Potter his potion, and we'll work out a plan."
Draco stared at him, shaking. "Fine," he said. "Fine. I'm going to my dormitory."
Snape released him from the spell, and Draco exited. Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Daphne were all waiting in the hallway nearest to Dumbledore's office when he stepped off the staircase.
"What happened? Potter ran out a couple minutes ago and barely looked at us."
"I'm going," Draco said, and led them briskly down a staircase. He didn't have the mental space right now to think about Potter dashing off alone again. "Fuck Dumbledore. Let's hope Potter has a little bit more sense when he's back to his teenage self. But then, it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"Merlin, Draco," Theo shook his head. The four of them had to jog to keep up with his furious pace. "Where are you going?"
"Where do you think I'm going?"
The rest of the walk down to Slytherin was silent. When they reached the dormitory, Draco packed his things into his trunk and shrank it, stuffing it into a rucksack. He had his wand up his sleeve and his broomstick in hand. He planned to fly to the Manor. He didn't plan to come back.
He said his goodbyes to Pansy, Blaise, Theo and Daphne, who had followed him and watched him pack with sombre eyes. Then he stalked upstairs to the Entrance Hall and out the front doors as the sun set. He wrapped his cloak tightly around his shoulders and mounted his broom. It was going to be a long flight.
When Draco first caught sight of Malfoy Manor again, he felt his heart begin to sink. It was his home, but he knew it wasn't his anymore. The Dark Lord had taken it over, and his mother was alone in there, walking a very fine line that Draco had just pushed her off with his stupid heroics. He had to catch her now before it was too late.
He flew through a small gap in the wards above the south gardens, perfectly sized for fliers. He wanted to check on his mother before he announced his presence, and it would be easy enough If he was careful. The Manor was built for subtlety if you knew it well.
He flew low to the ground in the moonlight, skirting around the Venomous Tentacula patch and avoiding the screaming fountains altogether. If no one was staying in his room (and if they were, he'd be horrified), he could climb in through the window like he used to when he was younger and would sneak out to practice Quidditch after bedtime.
He landed on his windowsill and peered inside, feeling a bit of tension leave his chest when he found his rooms empty. He popped the latch and slipped inside, holding his broom aloft as he stepped carefully from the desk to the floor like he had a hundred times before, feeling almost normal.
He lit his wand and checked his rooms more thoroughly. There was an air of neglect about the place; it looked as though no one had come in here since the last time Draco had been here, which was another welcome bit of news.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could do this. He just had to go find his mother before the Dark Lord noticed he was here (which he would). But if he found his mother, everything would be alright.
"Master Draco, sir!"
Draco nearly jumped out of his skin, barely keeping his wand in his hand as he spun around to face the house elf.
"I- What are you -" Draco lost whatever he had been about to say when he saw who it was. "D-Dobby. You-"
Words failed him.
"Dobby is sorry, Master Draco!" Dobby did look sorry. He was twisting his ear with one hand as he spoke. The other hand was being clutched by none other than Harry Potter, age eight, the source of Draco's speechlessness.
"Dobby is very sorry," he continued as Draco gaped at them. "But Master Harry Potter ordered Dobby to take him to Master Draco, and Master Draco ordered Dobby to do as Master Harry Potter says and Dobby did not want to because it is time for Master Harry Potter to take his potion and become sixteen again, but Master Harry Potter would not take his potion and insisted and-"
Draco sank into his desk chair, which was a fortunate surprise. He had honestly expected to end up on the floor.
"Dobby," he said faintly. "Why is Potter here? Why? Why would you do this to me, I don't understand…"
Little Potter decided to speak up at this point. "I wanted to see you," he said, and his eyes were big and green and beseeching Draco not to be angry. Draco wasn't really capable of feeling anything but shock at the moment, so Potter was safe there, at least. "They said they're going to change me back and I don't want to go back and you were really upset at Ron and the Headmaster and everyone too and I think they were being awful to you and I wanted you to be okay and help me."
Draco might have whimpered a little bit just then, but he pretended he hadn't.
"Potter, I need you to go back to Hogwarts," he said. Potter shook his head stubbornly. Draco despaired. "Fuck, everyone's going to think I kidnapped you. Potter-"
There was a commotion from the other side of the door. Draco leapt to his feet as his heart nearly burst out of his chest. He fumbled with his wand and cast the strongest sealing wards he knew, and then several others for good measure.
"'Who's in there?" Someone tried the door and found it locked. "Hey! Who's there!"
"Oh no, oh fuck," Draco moaned. "This is not going to end well. Dobby, fix this, then get out of my sight. I can't do this right now."
Dobby twisted his ears anxiously, but he did not take Potter back to Hogwarts like Draco had hoped he would. Instead, he reached tentatively into the pocket of his tiny little trousers and pulled out a vial of potion that Draco recognised from Snape's office.
Draco stared. "Is that Potter's potion?"
Dobby nodded furiously. "Yes, Master Draco! It was time for Master Harry Potter to take his potion but Master Harry Potter was hiding, so Dobby brought the potion to him and Master Harry Potter ordered Dobby to bring him to Master Draco instead so Dobby had to, you see-"
Draco stopped listening. He took the vial of potion away from the elf. Kneeling down in front of Potter, he summoned his most serious face.
"Potter, I need you to drink this for me, okay?"
Potter looked at the potion doubtfully. "It smells gross. I don't want to go back."
Draco bit the inside of his cheek, gathering calm. The person outside had been joined by a friend, and they banged on the door. Draco felt his pulse jump and took Potter's hand in order to drag him into the study, where he pulled a tapestry aside and ran his hands over the rough stone behind it. As he worked, he spoke to Potter and listened with one ear for the sound of his sealing spells snapping.
"Potter, I need you to drink that potion now," he said as he searched for the latch that opened the hidden stairwell. "I promise it won't send you anywhere. You'll still be right here with me, unfortunately. …and I promise it tastes good."
Potter seemed sceptical, though interested in Draco's progress with the wall.
"It doesn't smell like it tastes good," he said, and began helping Draco in his search. The Death Eaters were making serious dents in Draco's spells, and from the sound of it, his door too. "It smells like it tastes like dog feet. Why would I want to drink dog feet?"
He found the latch. In another moment they were standing in front of a narrow spiral staircase leading downward. Draco ushered little Potter onto the narrow landing without delay, slid the tapestry back into place, and sealed the door behind them.
"If…" They paused on the landing and Draco took a deep breath. "If you drink this for me, I'll be more okay. You said you wanted me to be okay, right?"
"You'll feel better if I drink it?" Potter narrowed his eyes suspiciously in the dim lighting of the staircase. "Why?"
On the other side of the wall, Draco heard the door bang open. The sounds of a search progressed ever closer to their hiding spot. He knelt down to Potter's level and peered at him with urgency. "Because if you drink this," Draco said, "You won't go away, but you'll be able to help me feel better. You'll be stronger and faster. I need your help, Potter."
Potter considered this for several moments, chewing on his lip. Draco's anxiety grew as he listened to the crashes outside the hidden door draw nearer. Finally, finally, Potter reached out and took the vial.
"I'll help," he said seriously, and made a face as he downed the potion.
Draco watched on tenterhooks as Potter drank. He blinked once behind his glasses and soon he was aging rapidly. Draco stood up as Potter's height increased, and in barely enough time for Draco to regret giving Potter the potion before going down the stairs, he stood as tall as he'd been at sixteen, staring at Draco through foggy eyes.
"Potter?" Draco asked. Potter nodded and blinked rapidly and put a hand to his forehead.
"I… right, hang on, I just…" He squeezed his eyes shut and swayed dangerously. Draco caught his shoulders and held him steady as he gathered his wits. From the sound of it, there were several Death Eaters roaming through Draco's rooms, searching for the source of the noises they'd heard and the reason why it might have been locked. They were also making a game of breaking everything in sight, from what Draco could surmise.
"Listen, Potter," Draco whispered in a strained voice. "I know you've just gone through a pretty interesting change and you're probably not really over being eight just yet. But I'm not good at this sort of thing." He flinched as raucous laughter floated through the hidden door that separated them from certain death. It looked less comfortingly sturdy than it had a minute ago.
Draco tightened his grip on Potter's shoulders and found himself leaning rather than holding up. "I really need you to get your head together quickly. Do your big hero thing and save the day. That'd be really lovely, actually, if you could do that right about now?"
Potter opened one eye and looked up at Draco through his fringe, still holding his head. "Malfoy, calm down."
Draco stared at him. "Calm- calm down? We- at least you remember my name now, thank Merlin, but I am not going to calm down, Potter!" He clutched at Potter's shoulders, listening to his own whispers become shrill with panic. "Those are Death Eaters out there and they're going to find us here and think I've been hiding you in my rooms and, and that does not look good for me!"
"Malfoy-" Potter took hold of both his arms and met his gaze steadily. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, remember? I'm going to help you."
Draco felt himself sagging against his will. Potter held him up by his elbows and glanced at the stairs as he waited for Draco to regain his composure. On the other side of the wall, it sounded like the Death Eaters were having a good time of wrecking Draco's rooms. They couldn't possibly know who they'd been looking for. This thought did nothing to comfort Draco. They'd find out soon enough if they found the door behind the tapestry.
Potter let go of one of Draco's arms and took off his glasses, speaking in a low voice. "Look, I don't have a wand. My clothing has adjustable spells on but my glasses don't. Can I use yours to fix these?"
Draco stopped picturing their very messy deaths for a second to look down at the too-small glasses. "Fix- ?"
"Yeah." Potter grinned at him. "Can't do much if I can't see."
Draco did not grin back. There was nothing to smile about. Potter didn't have any way to defend himself or Draco. They were both going to die. Draco handed over his wand, figuring that they might as well both die with a crystal clear view of their captors. He felt strangely better for it.
Potter tapped the glasses and raised his eyebrows. He settled the newly resized frames back on his nose.
"Can I…" He held up the wand and gestured vaguely with it. "This works really well for me. Can I hold on to it for a while? I promise I won't let you get hurt."
Draco hesitated, not really okay with surrendering the only source of strength and comfort he had to Potter. But Potter was eerily calm despite the Death Eaters on the other side of the wall. Draco had to admit that of the two of them, Potter knew what he was doing.
"I promise," Potter repeated. Draco sucked in a noisy breath and nodded wordlessly. He watched as Potter tapped his own head, sluicing disillusionment over himself like water. The Death Eaters outside roared with laughter again. Draco could only assume they played games like this all the time, and swallowed hard as he thought again of his mother.
"Can I do you too?" When Draco nodded, he felt a sharp crack at his crown and cold dripping over him that told him he was now as invisible as Potter. He examined his arms to confirm it. "Where do these stairs lead?" Potter asked as Draco looked through himself.
"Down a few floors," Draco said, glancing at the door. "You can leave the staircase from a few of the landings, but most of them come out in servants quarters or open corridors. Two leave the building altogether, and the landing two down puts you on the roof."
Potter glanced at him. "How do we get to your mother?"
Draco swallowed. "The fastest way requires a few open corridors."
Potter nodded. "We'll have to be extra careful, then. C'mon, Malfoy."
Draco followed in a near daze as Potter set off down the stairs, pausing at each landing so Draco could decide whether this was the right corridor or not. The number of landings they had climbed down had little to do with where they actually were in the Manor, else they would have ended up in the dungeons by now. It was a useful passage, though before tonight, Draco had never used it for anything more serious than sneaking past his parents to the kitchen to spoil his dinner.
"If we use this one," Draco said a few floors after the sounds of the Death Eaters had faded away, "We'll come out three hallways from my mother's rooms. I don't know what'll be out there, though. If there are werewolves…"
He didn't have to finish his sentence. Potter's silence was appropriately solemn, so Draco assumed he got the implication. A disillusionment charm did nothing to hide their scent.
"Right," Potter said in a firm voice. "Nothing else for it, I suppose."
They cracked open the door and peered out of the portrait that hid the entrance in this corridor. The corridor was empty, though the portrait wasn't.
"Greetings to you, young Draco!" Great Uncle Cygnus was visibly pleased to have them drop by, and kept his voice down in deference to the disillusionment. "Good to hear your voice again."
"Hello," Draco responded in kind. "Do you know if there's anyone in the halls between here and my mother's rooms?"
Potter stood silently beside Draco as Cygnus contemplated the question.
"I would say yes," he said after a while. "I haven't seen any werewolves in the past couple days, though, so you're in luck there."
Draco felt a twinge of relief, and for once didn't mind how nosy the portraits in Malfoy Manor could be.
"We'd best be on our way, then," Potter said, drawing Draco's wand. Draco opened the portrait unwillingly and they both slipped out into the corridor.
"Stay close," Potter hissed as they crept along. "I don't want us getting separated."
Despite the bone deep panic he'd been coasting on since Potter's arrival, Draco couldn't help but sneer a little. If one of them was likely to wander off, it wasn't him.
They hugged the walls as they walked so as not to give away their position to anyone watching. Draco directed them with nearly inaudible whispers, and Potter checked around corners and stared intently down intersecting hallways before they crossed them.
Draco started to think they might really make it to his mother's rooms with no serious obstacles. But then, he'd forgotten that one benefit to being a nosy portrait was that when it came to knowing the comings and goings of the Manor, you were never wrong.
Potter stuck his head around the corner leading to the hallway that contained the entrance to his mothers rooms, and pulled back quickly. Draco could see the faint outline of his hair as it whipped back against his faintly outlined forehead.
"What?"
"Death Eaters."
"Shit."
"A lot of them."
Potter's voice had darkened. He sounded almost menacing.
"Shit," Draco repeated. He tilted his head so that he could look at the vague, blurry space where Potter's head was. "Potter."
"The Lestranges are there," Potter said in an ominous tone. "Bellatrix is there.
A/N: Friggin Harry, amirite? Anyway, some of you have mentioned that Ron and Hermione are more dense than they should be. Of course they look stupid! It's Draco looking. He doesn't give them the benefit of the doubt like Harry would in the books. If anyone catches any mistakes in terms of plot or grammar or 'wait a minute, you're alluding to something that didn't happen or happened differently!'... Please point those out.