No Church in the Wild
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Bad Moon Rising
"Get help!" Harry said, though he wasn't even sure who he was talking to, who he was even asking. All he could see was Dobby in front of him, whose eyes were becoming unfocused and clouded while a pool of red grew beneath him.
Harry had his hands pressed over Dobby's own, both holding tightly to the wound, blood leaking out between their fingers at an alarming rate.
"Sorry..." Dobby was still saying. He'd been saying it the whole time, he hadn't stopped. "So sorry..."
"No, no, you saved us, you did great," Harry reassured him.
He slowly became aware of house elves rushing towards them from all directions, their worried chatter barely filtered through his own inner-dialogue and guilt at the situation. No longer did they complain about Dobby's reckless ways, now it was clear how concerned they were. A few of them began trying to pry Harry's hands away and when he realized they were trying to replace them with their own clean towels, he moved away, shifting to give them more space.
They immediately swarmed around Dobby, shouting directions to one another.
"We is gonna' take care of him," one of the house elf's squeaked at him, louder then the rest. Harry wasn't sure which one, there were so many and their voices overlapped.
Then, with a great and resounding crack, the entire group of elves disappeared.
The sudden silence echoed loudly in Harry's ears. He was still on his knees and he looked down at his palms, dripping blood onto his lap.
A pot began to boil over somewhere in the room, and Harry finally blinked, broken from his reverie by the noise of the evaporating water hissing and spitting over its sides. In somewhat of a haze he looked up to meet Hermione's shining eyes.
"He'll be fine Harry... You know, elves have amazing magic abilities too, so they'll-they'll mend him, I'm sure."
His mouth felt terribly dry all of sudden. "Yeah."
Hermione took a shaky breath, pulling strands of hair behind her ear, pausing like she wanted to say more, but did not. She gazed at the empty space where Ron and Malfoy should be.
Next to her, Narcissa still sat, eyes closed tightly and her lips pursed in what Harry thought must be anger, but she was quiet as well, saying nothing.
He looked back at his red, sticky hands, still reeling in disbelief. It had been too much to ask of the elf... too much of a load for him to Apparate their entire group successfully.
As he stared, feeling heavy and weighed down by guilt, his scar tingled. It sent a sharp pain through his head, and he winced. But the abrupt pain shook him out of his stupor and he slowly wiped the palms of his hands across his thighs, pushing against them and rising to his feet. A terrible thought suddenly occurred to him. "Do you... do you think it's possible they were splinched as well?"
Hermione looked over. She seemed to know he was referring to Ron and Malfoy, and she looked deeply anxious at the idea. "Ron can't take another splinching, not again! And he wouldn't have any dittany this time either, we ran out-
"No," Narcissa spoke, interrupting her in a quiet voice, though it was full of certainty. Her eyes remained closed and she still sat on the floor. He noticed she looked even paler than usual. And either his eyes were playing tricks on him, or he could see a fine sheen of sweat appearing across her forehead. "The house-elf would be the only to suffer the consequences of his botched Side-Along Apparition. But they could have ended up anywhere. Or they could still be trapped in that pub with the Death Eaters... Elf magic is unpredictable."
Harry thought back, trying to remember if he had sensed Ron or Malfoy's presence with them as the Apparition had first taken hold, but he had no idea. Too much had been going on and he hadn't paid attention.
"Snape will know!" Hermione said. "He'll know if they've been captured or not! Death Eaters share that sort of information with each other right?"
That sounded quite likely to him. He looked to Narcissa for confirmation.
"Possibly. Or at least, he could find out... We must speak to him as soon as we- " she stopped suddenly, both hands going to her stomach as she sucked a breath in through her teeth. Her face radiated pain. "Shite."
Harry asked, "Are you all right?"
"It's- it's happening isn't it?" Hermione said, uneasy. "The baby-?"
"Yes," Narcissa gasped, fingers twisting in her robes. "I've been trying to hold it back since Hogsmeade, but I-" she groaned, and it was a terrible sound. "It's coming."
Hand torn from its hold on the house-elf's shoulder, he was thrown sideways violently. The abrupt force of his sudden ejection from Apparition flipped him through the air, before finally ramming him hard to the ground. He grunted in pain, jarring his own shoulder as he tumbled and rolled. Draco scrabbled madly for purchase, trying to stop himself, but his grasping fingers could not find a hold in the muddy grass he now found himself.
Finally, he came to a sliding stop, on his stomach, facing up a hillside.
Coughing, somewhat disoriented and dizzy, he slowly pulled himself to his knees. Wanted to look for his mother- had she been thrown as well? – but there was a leaf or grass or some other thing caught in his throat, and he was hacking and coughing against the burning sensation, trying to catch his breath.
As he tried to get his breathing under control, he looked back up from where he'd fallen. He could see the path he'd taken, indented clearly in the brush and dirt, only narrowly missing some of the trees that dotted the incline. It had been quite the fall.
Another voice suddenly spoke: "Damn it!"
Still coughing, he looked over to see the unwelcome sight of Ron Weasley, who appeared from behind one of the trees. He had that sword grasped in one hand, but the rucksack he'd been wearing was gone, no doubt left behind in all the confusion back at the Hog's Head. His clothes looked as muddied as Draco's and he pulled bits of grass from his hair as he walked towards him.
"Dobby must've dropped us. Damn it... Is it just you then? Haven't seen anyone else?"
Draco didn't even attempt to answer, distracted, coughing still.
"Bollocks..." After a bit of fumbling around he managed to slip the sword's handle through a belt loop and then he cupped his hands around his mouth, hollering up the hill, "Hermione! Harry!"
Draco badly wished he wasn't cursed with Parseltongue because he wanted to tell the moron to shut the hell up since there might still be Death Eaters around- but he realized even if he could speak English he wouldn't be able to say anything at the moment. He really could not draw a breath.
He leaned heavily on a hand, using the other to thump his chest, hoping it would knock something loose.
"I don't see any sign of them." A heavy sigh. "What's wrong with you anyway?"
When this failed, both hands went to the ground and he kept hacking. He couldn't feel any obstruction in his airway, but there was that odd burning sensation... and he still could not breathe.
"Hairball?" he heard Weasley suggest unhelpfully.
The edge of Draco's vision was actually starting to gray now from the lack of air.
In a panic, he felt at his pocket, numb fingers grasping for his wand. He pointed it towards his throat, trying to squeeze out a spell- though he wasn't even sure what exactly- but all he could manage was a weird, breathless squeak.
Draco felt his arms and legs losing the strength to hold him up as the sensation of numbness began to spread.
THWAP
A great pain exploded from his back.
THWAP
He lost his balance. The ground rushed up at him at an amazing speed and Draco's forehead hit it full force.
"Right, take a breath already-"
THWAP
Suddenly, air.
Wonderful, beautiful, air.
He gulped it down desperately, face still pressed to the dirt as he was finally able to draw some proper breaths and the gray that had begun encroaching his field of vision cleared away, the scenery coming back into blessed focus around him.
Strangely, he hadn't felt anything dislodge or come loose from his airway, but whatever had been preventing his breathing was gone, and really, that was all that mattered to him.
He groaned, lifting himself to his knees, spitting dirt from his mouth.
THWAP
He was nearly knocked back to the ground again and Draco turned, just to see Weasley standing over him. The Gryffindor's open hand was hovering threateningly above, poised and ready to deliver yet another painful blow to Draco's back- even though Draco had already clearly recovered.
"Hey!" he wheezed, throwing up his own hand in defense. "Don't fucking try it arsehole!"
A look of complete surprise crossed Weasley's face, but Draco was still more focused on getting his breathing under control that he didn't really register it. The moment passed without notice, and Weasley stepped back.
When he felt better, calmer, the numbness completely gone, Draco grabbed his wand and slowly pulled himself up to his feet. Rolling his aching shoulder, he looked around at the darkening landscape, eyes tracing back up and down the hill, searching desperately for some indication, or any signs of his mother.
It was useless though, and finally he was forced to admit to himself that there was nothing. He and his mother had become separated once again, and it was just he and Weasley who stood there, lit by the twilight sky above in some random forest, on some random hill.
His teeth clenched from resisting the impulse to throw his head back and shout in frustration. How had it all gone so badly so fast? It had been over! They had finally both been away from Voldemort! And now his mother was gone. And he had no idea how he was going to find her this time. He had no idea where he and Weasley even were now- had no idea if his mother had safely made it into Hogwarts walls or if the damned elf had abandoned her somewhere else as well.
Everything had been truly and royally buggered.
"Oh no,"
Broken from his depressed thoughts, Draco glanced over and saw that Weasley had suddenly started to pat himself down, feeling at all his pockets, turning them inside out as he apparently searched for something. "Oh, no, no..."
Draco watched him, still lost in his own swirling anger and disappointment, not really caring about whatever Weasley was doing. But there was nothing else to focus on.
Weasley held his wand aloft. "Lumos!" He started to wander away, keeping his eyes down on the ground, retracing his steps. "Don't tell me I lost it!" And he continued to mutter concernedly to himself, bent at the waist, peering down at the ground around him as he walked.
He was looking to the left when the light from his wand suddenly caught a small object on his right and Draco saw a flat metal something reflect in the darkness, flashing for a moment before an unaware Weasley kept moving along up the hill, following his path back behind some trees.
Doubting that Weasley could possibly have anything worthy of his interest, but vaguely curious, Draco walked forward and snatched the little piece of metal from where it was settled in the grass. He turned it over in his hands.
An old, tarnished cigarette lighter. He flipped open its lid and flipped it closed again. Useless. Nothing special.
"You found it?"
Weasley had returned, and his face lit up at the sight of the small lighter clasped in Draco's hand.
"Give it here,"
Draco squeezed his fingers around it, feeling a sudden urge to toss it far away- Weasley's apparent happiness over the stupid thing being the fuel for this urge- but when the taller boy rushed forward, Draco decided he didn't care enough and he held the lighter out, allowing him to take it. A family heirloom most likely, and from the way Weasley was acting, an item his destitute family couldn't afford to lose. No surprise there.
"Please please please don't be broken," Weasley was saying quietly, flicking the lid open with his thumb before pressing down on the small button that Draco hadn't bothered with.
Suddenly a brilliant little light appeared, hovering in the air above Weasley. It cast a bluish, silver glow over him, like a single candle.
Weasley gave a relieved smile. "Thank Merlin, it still works. Thought I broke it in the fall-"
"Ron can't take another splinching, not again..."
Draco whipped his head around at the unexpected, female voice. It seemed to come from nowhere. "What the...?"
But it was still only Weasley standing there, staring down at his device in amazement, then back up at the light again. "That- that was Hermione! That was her voice!" he exclaimed. He lifted the silver device high in the air in a motion of triumph. "It came from the deluminator!"
"No. The house-elf would be the only one to suffer the consequences of-"
"That's my mother!" Draco breathed, shocked, staring up at the ball of light now too. She'd sounded tired and despairing, but it had definitely been her.
The silver light from the 'deluminator', as he called it, suddenly whirled in a little circle and then rushed at Weasley, actually disappearing into his chest.
"What is that thing?" Draco said aloud, his mother's voice echoing in his ears.
Suddenly the light reappeared, pulling itself back out of Weasley, illuminating his amazed face before rushing further up the hill.
It sat still, hovering some yards away from them.
"We're to follow it!" Weasley said, eyes lit with excitement. "I can feel it! It's going to lead us to the others!"
Draco rushed to catch up to Weasley then, slipping on the grass in his haste, because the Gryffindor had started after the light without hesitation, so caught up in his apparent glee.
As he got his footing back and ran along behind him, he noticed whenever Weasley reached the hovering ball that the light then zoomed along ahead of him, hovering again. Clearly waiting for him to reach it once more.
Weasley was moving quickly, practically sprinting up the hill and Draco wasn't far behind now, closing the gap between them. "We're going to find them!" Weasley called confidently as the light moved again and again, showing the way.
Finally they made it to the crest of the hill, Draco matching Weasley's pace as they both stepped onto the flat earth at its top, and now he finally had a clear view of where they'd been dropped by that utterly useless house elf.
He could see the little town of Hogsmeade in the distance. He recognized the place immediately; the buildings were pumping smoke from chimneys, the numerous, tiny flickering lights throughout the village, only barely visible from this distance and the miles of forest that separated them. Draco thought they had quite a trek ahead of them.
But when he looked back at the deluminator's light for guidance, he noticed that the light wasn't heading for Hogsmeade. In fact, it had veered off in a completely different direction.
Beaming confidence, Weasley had started after it again, and Draco only hesitated a moment before following.
Footsteps rang through the hallway and Harry barely had time to squeeze into an alcove behind a suit of armor before a group of students appeared. First-years from the look of them, holding books close to their chests over blue and bronze striped ties as they hurried along. Ravenclaws.
They were distracted, talking amongst each other, which is exactly what Harry needed because he'd given Hermione and Narcissa his invisibility cloak so they could reach the hospital wing undetected. He was visible to all, relying only on quick reflexes and his knowledge of secret passages as he ran through Hogwarts, trying to locate Snape by himself.
Of course, Hermione had tried to fight him on his plan at first, incensed that Harry thought he'd go it alone, wanting to join him. As they stood arguing in the kitchen, the few house-elf's that had remained behind to finish cooking had glanced over nervously- but they weren't watching their argument, they were looking at Narcissa. She'd gotten to her feet but leaned heavily against the walls, seeming to wilt in front of their eyes, her face impossibly pale.
He'd finally just shoved the cloak into Hermione's hands, ignoring her protests.
"No, you need to take the cloak at least Harry!" she'd insisted, trying to give it back.
"You two need it more."
"Harry-" she looked at him desperately, but when she met his eyes, the fight went out of her. She could tell that he wouldn't budge. He was going to find Snape without her. Try to, at least.
And so Harry was alone, desperately trying to avoid been seen by a group of first-year Ravenclaws.
"Can you believe that assignment?" One of the group spoke up, a girl, sounding highly offended, "A bloody two page essay on how to properly set an Imperius? It's not right! I'm not going to do it!"
"Quiet down!" another girl hissed back, looking around quickly. Her gaze went by where Harry hid, but she didn't see him. "I think I saw Filch lurking around this hallway earlier... he won't hesitate to send us to the Carrows!"
"Ingrid's right, you have to lower your voice!" a dark-skinned boy spoke, eyes wide.
"I can't stand it though!" the first girl insisted. "This isn't the same Hogwarts my parents told me about! It's not fair, we're not- we're not Slytherins! We shouldn't have to take a Dark Arts class, or spend hours in the library studying these horrid spells-"
"Shhh!" the boy interrupted, glancing over his shoulder worriedly. "At least wait until we get to the common room!"
The group passed, still arguing. Harry remained frozen, unmoving, until finally they started to descend the flight of stairs at the end of the hall, disappearing from view.
When he felt they were really gone, he slid out of the alcove but stayed close to the wall, nearly pressed against it as he resumed his jog down the hallway. Only a few more corridors left before he reached the Headmaster's office. It was the only place he could think were Snape might be.
Harry noticed a few portrait's glance curiously at him as he made his way past. He had his face turned towards the opposite wall though, sort of shadowed by it, and he hoped it was enough to avoid being recognized by them. The last thing he needed was a portrait running through Hogwarts, excitedly announcing the return of Harry Potter to everyone they happened to spot wandering the halls.
As he slipped down a hidden stair-well that he knew would lead him the right direction once it finished rotating towards the opposite wall, Harry thought about the disturbing conversation he'd overhead. First-years being taught how to cast an Unforgivable. He was thoroughly disgusted. Had things really deteriorated this much, so fast? Dumbledore said he'd left Hogwarts in Snape's hands with full confidence, but look at what had happened... and Harry was supposed to trust him?
He felt the familiar anger begin to burn in his chest as he stepped into the seventh-floor corridor. Empty, save for the familiar stone gargoyle that he knew hid the entrance to the Headmaster's office.
Harry walked towards it, gazing at the statue's bared fangs as he wondered what the password might be. What Snape might have chosen. "Dumbledore?" he tried doubtfully. "Albus Dumbledore?"
The statue remained unmoved. Apparently it wouldn't be so easy.
"Salazar Slytherin?" Harry tried to think of anything that related to Snape. "Potions? Dungeons? Two-faced bastard?"
Nothing. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, stumped. He hadn't really given much thought to this part. Minutes passed as he stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping, trying to think, but he was drawing blanks on this. He was completely unable to put himself in Snape's head or try to see things from his perspective enough to guess what password the man might have chosen.
Right when he was about ready to throw all caution to the wind and was seriously considering casting a Sonorous charm, he was broken from his desperate thoughts by a rather strange sight. A cat suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the hall and it quickly made its way towards him on silent little paws.
He stared at it, uncomprehending. Then, he remembered. Mrs. Norris. And that must mean...
"-see what the Headmaster has to say about this! You're done for this time! You're gone!"
Harry spun on his feet, running as fast as he could to the opposite door, pulling it open.
"Hiding away in the walls! Skipping classes! Cursing other students-!"
He ducked into the room- a long abandoned classroom- catching the door before it could shut completely behind him, holding it open just the tiniest of cracks.
"The list goes on and on!"
Harry learned close, peering out the gap. He saw a limping, scraggly haired figure come into view- Filch, of course. Never far from his pet cat. He held the arm of a taller figure who wore student robes, seeming to allow himself to be towed along. It took a moment of studying the cut, bruised face surrounded by unkempt and overgrown hair, but with a shock, he realized he was looking at none other than Neville Longbottom.
"I've only cursed Slytherins who somehow got it into their head that it's okay to attack anyone who defends Muggles," Neville was saying. He was a picture of calm. "And I'll tell Snape that to his face. I don't care."
Filch sneered while Mrs. Norris curled in and out of his legs. "He's Headmaster Snape to you. And we'll see how much you don't care when you're getting expelled now won't we?"
Neville didn't appear impressed by the threats. As they approached the gargoyle, he stayed quiet and unresisting.
Filch barked some Latin words Harry didn't recognize: "Lilium flos!"
The gargoyle leapt to the side, the wall behind splitting in two to reveal a spiraling stone staircase beyond, and Harry knew, even given a million years to try, he never would have guessed that password.
"Go on then!" Filch ordered, shoving Neville forward.
At this point, Harry pushed open the door he was hiding behind. Neville didn't really need saving it seemed, but Harry didn't want Filch getting in his way.
"Stupefy!"
The old man didn't have time to react, the spell hit him in the side and he collapsed against the wall, promptly sliding down onto his arse. His cat yowled in alarm, back arched, before taking off and disappearing around the corner.
Neville looked over, his utter bemusement quickly turning to shock as he stared at Harry. There was a long beat of silence as he looked him up and down.
"Alright Neville?" he said in greeting.
"Harry!" he finally yelled, looking overjoyed. He jumped forward and embraced him with unbridled excitement. "I knew you'd come! I knew it!"
Harry returned the hug, noting Neville's swollen eye and cheekbone, his ripped and tattered robes... he definitely looked worse for wear. Nevertheless, his battered visage shone with happiness as he let go of him. "I knew you'd come!" he said again, "Kept telling Seamus it was only a matter of time!" He laughed, suddenly looking about. "Ron and Hermione with you?"
He felt his stomach twist at the mention of Ron, but he kept it from his face. Focus, focus. Couldn't do anything about it just yet. "No, Ron's missing and Hermione's down in the hospital wing with Narcissa Malfoy."
This stifled Neville's excitement. His face turned more serious. "Damn. We heard the Death Eaters lost her on Potterwatch... never would have guessed she was with you. But I knew you weren't just in hiding- I knew you've been out trying to fight You-Know-Who!" He pumped a fist. "And we have been too, us at Hogwarts- Dumbledore's Army is still up and running!"
"That's fantastic, really great," Harry said, and really, he was glad to hear it, and he wanted to ask for more information, wanted to know why he looked so battle-weary, what all had been happening at Hogwarts... but he couldn't worry about that stuff now. He desperately needed to talk to Snape about about what might have happened to Ron and Malfoy, along with finding the last two Horcruxes, and not to mention what to do now that Narcissa was probably about to give birth...
Dumbledore had promised Snape would help them, and at the moment, it really felt like his last hope for all these mounting problems.
"Well I'm really sorry, but I can't stay and talk, I have to get going-"
Neville, who at first only appeared somewhat disappointed by Harry's lack of interest, now looked a bit more wounded and confused. "But... we can help. Me and the others, we're ready for you, just- just tell me, what do you need?"
Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry at that question. He had no idea what he needed- or rather, he needed so much, he didn't even know where to start. And he really couldn't believe he was here expecting Snape, of all people, to point him in the right direction.
Neville stared back in the silence though, and he looked practically ready to burst with his willingness to help.
Harry hesitated, unsure of exactly what to share with him. What to say, or what to keep secret.
"What are you two doing out of class?"
Harry and Neville jumped, spinning around to face the open doorway. A black-cloaked figure strode slowly towards them, out of the shadows of the staircase leading up to the Headmaster's Office. The light from candlesticks at the doorway touched on him and it was then that Severus Snape was fully revealed, his scowling countenance staring down at them from above his hooked nose.
White-hot anger ran through his veins upon seeing the familiar face and Harry couldn't help how he suddenly lifted his wand, glaring with a set jaw that literally ached to curse him. The Cruciatus Curse jumped to the front of his mind, and he had no doubt he could perform it successfully now.
Snape's eyes went from Neville, over to Harry and raked across the scar on his forehead before shocked recognition filled his expression. In a blur, he too, lifted his wand.
Hatred filled his voice: "Potter-"
"Snape-"
They glared at one another, lightning practically crackling in the air between them. But, tellingly, neither made any offensive moves.
Neville had his wand out as well, looking back and forth. "Harry...?" he said uncertainly.
He could feel Snape performing Leglimency now- invading his mind as the intense, fathomless black eyes bore into Harry's own before the image of Snape's face with a bewildered Neville in the peripheral faded to nothing.
Now all he could see were pictures of memories rushing by, one by one as Snape perused them quickly... he remembered nearly drowning, choking against the locket chain, pulled impossibly tight against his throat... then Ron splayed out on the rocks while Hermione desperately breathed air into his lungs... finding Malfoy trembling in the rain, the Dark Mark vivid against his skin...
He realized Snape was trying to find out what Harry knew, why he was in Hogwarts and not out searching for the last Horcruxes. The memories of his journey so far continued to rush by, one after the other until Snape reached the pivotal moment where Harry had struck the Death Eater ward, and it was like he was experiencing it all over again. The pain as green lightning coursed through him- overwhelming, terrible, burning- Harry didn't know if he could stand it again- then, abruptly, the visions stopped.
There was only a deep black nothing.
He could feel Snape's confusion through their mental link, before Dumbledore's words were suddenly heard, floating unbidden to the top of his thoughts: "I do know someone who would be able to help, if you choose to ask them. One person whom might actually have answers for you, that you can trust implicitly and wholly."
Blank shock shot from Snape into Harry.
Finally, the heavy, wrong, feeling of Snape in his thoughts lifted and Harry felt he could breathe a little easier.
Snape was staring at him, looking more agitated then Harry had ever seen, almost thunderstruck.
His hand gave a tremor of resistance, but when he finally focused he was able to lower the wand. Not all the way, but he pointed its end down at least. "He has the Elder Wand," Harry said at last, trying to keep his voice level and calm. Having just heard Dumbledore's assuring voice helped him with this, but it was not easy.
Snape continued to stare without saying anything. Harry couldn't begin to guess what the man was thinking.
Suddenly Snape broke the eye-contact. He seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion in his own thoughts and he turned smartly on his heel, retreating back up the steps to his office. "Come! Now!"
He moved to follow.
"Wait- Harry!"
He stopped in surprise, looking back at Neville. He'd nearly forgotten about him.
"What's going on? I mean, what's this business about an Elder Wand?"
"I'm sorry, there isn't time- please, just watch this hallway for me. Don't let any one up here all right?"
Without waiting for an answer, he left Neville there in his confusion, turning to jog up the stairs after Snape.
Draco wasn't doing well.
He and Weasley had been led down into a cave. It was a winding and confusing trip with many turns down many different tunnels and though at first he'd tried to memorize the path they were taking in case this 'deluminator' light somehow failed and they needed to find their way back, it was hopeless. They'd left any chance of that behind long ago. There was no turning back at this point.
He swallowed, palm sweaty around his illuminated wand. Weasley had his out as well, a few paces ahead as they both walked toward the bobbing, silvery-blue light of the deluminator, almost completely swallowed by the heavy darkness that surrounded it. As they neared, it once again vanished and reappeared further down the tunnel.
And while the darkness was bad, Draco could stand it. With their three lights combined, he felt alright about that... No, rather, it was the claustrophobia getting to him now. The tight cave walls on either side. As they progressed, he could see they were getting closer and closer, their path smaller and smaller. Or maybe it just felt like that. He wasn't sure.
Either way, he was thoroughly unnerved. And he'd started chattering inanely, almost without his control, "Can't be much further, been walking for ages already haven't we? Feels like ages, anyway... Must be close. Have to be close. A good distance for sure."
Weasley glanced back, eyebrows furrowed.
Draco didn't acknowledge him, avoiding his questioning gaze. Perhaps the Parseltongue was doing a poor job of hiding his anxious tone, but there was nothing to be done for it. The talking helped to calm him, which he desperately needed. Anything to help him not focus on the encroaching walls looming on either side.
The shadows cast from their lumos charms seemed to highlight all the ridges and bumps of the cave around them, somehow making it seem even smaller and he averted his eyes, staring down at his feet instead, trying to quell the rising panic.
He just wasn't used to tight spaces like this. The Malfoy Manor had huge, sprawling hallways that even if he stood in the center with hands outstretched he would not reach them. Same for Hogwarts. That was what he was used to.
Trying to distract himself, he switched his wand to the other hand, wiping his palm off on the front of the faded black shirt he wore, which was so thin and old he could feel the sweat soaking through to his chest.
"What's a deluminator anyway?" he wondered aloud, voice a bit frantic in his desperation to think of anything else. Anything besides this terrible feeling of claustrophobia. "Never heard of it before. Not something I've seen in Diagon Alley either... or Knockturn for that matter-"
Weasley's voice suddenly broke into his babbling, "Didn't get it from a shop. Dumbledore left it to me in his will."
"Oh. Wait-" Draco looked up sharply, full of confusion. How on earth had Weasley so correctly guessed what he was saying?
"Did I forget to tell you?" The other boy glanced back at him, and Draco was just able to make out a lopsided smirk in the dim lighting. "Yeah, you've been speaking this weird English-Parseltongue mixture ever since you almost choked to death back there."
"What?"
Weasley was deadpan in his delivery: "Surprise."
Draco struggled to recover from his shock, forcing himself to keep moving. "What the hell does that mean?" he finally demanded, catching up to Weasley. "English-Parseltongue mixture?"
"Nope, that was all Parseltongue right there," Weasley said. "Not a lick of English."
Draco ran a hand over his head in frustration. "So, what about now?"
"What about now?" Weasley repeated. "Got that part. English."
He didn't know what to say. So he scoffed and said nothing. They both fell into silence after. He refused to allow himself to keep muttering inanely now that he knew Weasley could partially understand him, so the only sounds was their shoes scuffing against the rock floor as they walked and the quiet repetitive swishing of the flat side of the sword against Weasley's jeans.
Draco thought he should probably be somewhat pleased by this development, but instead, there was a sudden feeling of frustration rearing up inside of him. He had no control over his own body anymore it seemed. The scars, and the runes, the Parseltongue... he felt almost powerless.
Still, though... it had to be a good sign. The Dark Lord had loosened his grip over Draco even more. Perhaps the Parseltongue would even be gone completely by the time they reached wherever this damn deluminator was leading them.
As he thought about the deluminator, he glanced up to get a look at the bobbing blue light- but he pulled up short.
Only darkness lay ahead; the little light was no where to be found.
He gaped, standing still. Frozen in shock. "Where is it?"
"What-?"
He exploded in movement and grabbed a handful of the confused Weasley's shirt, at his shoulder, forcibly shaking him as he pointed at the empty blackness in front of them. "The light! Where's the light? Where?"
"Get off me!" Weasley said, rearing away from him, pulling himself free of Draco's grip. But his face was full of anxiety as he too, stared ahead at nothing. "I-I don't know!"
Horror filled him. The walls seemed to loom towards him tauntingly. "What do you mean you don't know!"
"Just shut up for a minute! I'm sure it's still there alright?" He put a hand to his chest, above his heart where the deluminator's light had gone inside of him back when it had first appeared and spoken in Granger's voice. Weasley's face was softer suddenly. "Yeah, it's still ahead of us, I can feel it, right here-"
"Fuck's sake Weasley," he interrupted with a grimace, "spare me the sentimentals! I don't care about what you feel!"
Weasley glared, hand dropping, and even in the shadows Draco was able to see the blush suddenly burning at his cheeks as he set his jaw angrily. "I'll tell you about how I feel all I want! It's my deluminator that's helping us find the others, isn't it?"
"Yeah, real useful at the moment!" he said sarcastically, waving a demonstrative hand at the darkness. "We're bloody stranded here!"
Weasley shoved past Draco. "No! You're wrong! It'll be up here somewhere. It must have gone down another passage that we can't see or something!"
The red-head held his wand high as he stomped forward, but it wasn't long before he had to stop, its tip illuminating a dead end. There was simply no where to go.
Seeing this made Draco feel nauseous, almost light-headed, and he reached out, putting a hand on the curved wall next to him for support. "We're goners," he groaned. "We'll never find a way out of here..."
Weasley, on the other hand, did not seem deterred. He got up close to the wall and started feeling at it carefully, touching at all the dips and rivets, as if it might be a secret passage and he just needed to find the right spot to activate it.
"This isn't Diagon Alley!" Draco bit-out an angry reminder.
"Parseltongue," Weasley called back over a shoulder in irritation. He continued his searching, reaching high, left to right, before working his way downward. "There must be something we're missing!"
Weasley was crouching now, reaching lower and lower. Draco wiped the nervous sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, watching in silence.
Suddenly, Weasley gave an excited shout.
Draco noticed that Weasley's hand had disappeared through some sort of crack in the wall. He quickly moved to a different position, actually laying down on his stomach, trying to peer through. "It's there!" he exclaimed, relief evident in his voice, face still pressed to the stone, "I can see the light!" Then without hesitation, Weasley pulled back and pointed his wand at the tiny opening.
Draco saw this and felt a panic rise within. "Wait-"
"Bombarda!"
There was a bright flash of orange and an explosion. The cave walls shook around them, the sound reverberating thunderously. Draco stumbled, ducking and covering his head as rubble and rocks rained down from the ceiling above.
Thankfully the trembles died down, and Draco was able to right himself. His heart was beating madly, and he took a moment to catch his breath. Dust motes floated around him and he coughed, waving a hand to clear the air as he looked about.
The spell had caused major cracks to appear along the walls on either side, giving it a fragile, shaky look, and he felt if he even breathed too hard they might just collapse.
He slowly reverted his gaze back to Weasley, who was nursing an arm and looked a bit worse for wear. There were scorch marks along the edge of his face and hairline. "Maybe-" he coughed, looking somewhat sheepish, dust flying everywhere as he shook out his hair. "Maybe that wasn't the smartest thing to do."
"Really?" Draco asked, dripping acid in his tone. "I'd say that was Gryffindor subtlety at its best."
"Sod off Malfoy," he grumbled, snatching his wand up from where he'd dropped it. "Lumos. I just admitted it wasn't the best idea, didn't I?"
"An understatement," Draco said, a sneer pulling at his lip as he gazed down at him, "you nearly killed us both!"
With a roll of the eyes, Weasley turned away, back to inspecting the wall. The hole itself was somewhat larger now, crumbling around the edges as he poked at it. Still, Draco could see it was much too small for a person to squeeze through and he supposed he'd better get involved in this if he didn't want to end up crushed under a ton of rubble brought down on his head by the sheer thoughtlessness and stupidity of a typical Gryffindor.
"Shove over," he growled, coming forward.
Weasley glanced back at him quizzically, and Draco assumed he must have spoken in Parseltongue. But Weasley apparently understood anyway, because he eventually shifted to the side to make room.
Draco crouched down. "Let's try something a bit more sophisticated then an explosion, shall we?" He gazed at the wall, going through a few different ideas in his mind, before touching his wand carefully against it, just a few inches above the opening. "Reducio."
A good-sized patch of the wall crumpled inward on itself, again and again, becoming smaller and more compact until all that was left was only a small pebble. It detached itself and fell towards the ground and Draco caught it in his palm.
He plucked it up with his other hand, holding it between his forefinger and thumb, directly in front of Weasley's face.
"Now, is that too advanced a spell for you, or...?" He smirked at the other boy's annoyed scowl, knowing he'd been understood.
Weasley reached up, backhanding the little rock out of Draco's grasp.
"Parseltongue improved your personality, you know that?"
this one's named after a song by Creedence Clearwater Revival
Sorry for the break between updates. I hope the length of the chapter makes up for it. Longest one yet. Thanks for reading/reviewing!