Author's Note: Finally . . .

Chapter 21: The Game
From the Perspective of Harry Potter

The name-plate that read Zabini was obstructed by the low-hanging branch of a nearby sycamore tree. It was, perhaps, a subliminal message conveying to those looking for the house that anyone who was meant to be here knew where they were.

Through the wrought-iron and limestone gate, the grounds of Zabini Manor tumbled upward in a lush disarray of sweeping lawn and perfectly manicured hedges. The manor itself was nestled at the rear of the property where the unmarred lawn divulged into dense forest. The house was individual and classic, decorated disjointedly with spires, and turrets, and stained-glass windows from Tiffany & Co. The house, though evidently aged, was an illustration of imposition and establishment.

Draco was trapped inside; the most recent letter I'd received had told me so. When I had returned to Grimmauld Place, I could tell that something was off with the security wards. As it turned out, someone had managed to break in, but only to leave me another letter, which had read:

ZABINI MANOR.

12 HEATHERSTONE LANE, BUCKINGHAMSHIRE, ENGLAND.

WE ARE READY FOR YOU TO COME COLLECT DRACO.

TELL ANYONE AND HE DIES.

I had apparated over as swiftly as I was able, but now that I was here, I wished I had made a plan. But Draco was inside, and he needed me. I motivated myself to approach the gate with the vision of an imagined reunion with Draco. Whoever was holding him captive was ready for me because when I reached out to touch the gate, it suddenly dematerialized. I hurried forward, eager not to waste any time. When I reached the door, it swung open of its own accord so that I was staring right into the face of a pretty, dark-skinned witch. I saw an obvious resemblance to Blaise in her face.

"Harry Potter," she said tersely by means of greeting. "We've been expecting you."

"Where is Draco?" I asked through clenched teeth.

"This way," she replied with a small grin, beckoning me into the house.

I rested my hands in the pockets of my pants so that my right hand lay directly overtop of my wand. She led me through the dark foyer into an adjoining parlor.

Like magnets, our eyes were drawn together the moment I entered the room. The sight of him, the presence of him, took my breath away. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes were wrinkled, but I had never seen any creature so beautiful. And just like that, without a coherent, conscientious decision, I realized that I was unequivocally, irrevocably in love with him.

"Draco," I murmured urgently, my chest tightening considerably.

I wanted nothing more than to rush over to him and wrap my arms around him, basking in the radiance that he was. I realized suddenly that I had felt this way all along; he had been right the whole time. Seeing him like this-broken and scared-made me angry. I wanted to tell him that I would take care of him. No harm would befall him ever again.

Only then did I take notice of the dagger being held to his throat and the twenty other people in the room. I recognized some of the other faces as former Death Eaters. They all stared blankly back at me as Blaise's mother led me to the center of the room.

"Well Harry, here he is," she chirped, noncommittally flicking her fingers in Draco's direction. "And now that you're here, we can begin. However, before we can do anything, I feel that a majority of the people in this room would feel more comfortable if you surrendered your wand."

She allowed a small smile to escape. My grip on my wand tightened.

"I think I'll keep my wand, thanks."

"That wasn't a question," she clarified, "it was just common courtesy. Kindly hand over your wand now or Bruce over here will slit Draco's throat."

My eyes, having never left Draco's, appraised his body once over to make sure that he was not already harmed. He tried to appear like he was not afraid, but I could see the fear behind his brave facade. The mammoth of a man standing behind him, Bruce, pushed the knife into the pale skin of Draco's neck.

"Don't touch him," I seethed. My words were barely understandable over the animalistic growl that came from somewhere in the back of my throat.

"Then give us your wand," Donatella Zabini countered, reaching her hand out towards me, palm up.

Draco's eyes stared ceaselessly into my own, imploring me not to give in, but I had no choice. I couldn't let them hurt him. I extracted my wand from my pocket and swiftly placed it into her waiting hand. Everyone in the room gasped audibly when I handed it over, almost as though they hadn't expected their plan to work. Luckily, Bruce immediately released Draco, and we shuffled hastily towards each other.

We fell into one another, our bodies molding together as one, and upon the pleasant pressure of his body against my own, I exhaled with the relief that he was finally safe in my arms-where he had belonged all along. I pulled him closer so that his head rested in the crook of my shoulder, my hands resting protectively around his shoulders and on the back of his head. I could feel the gentle rhythm of his heart pattering in sync with my own, and I lost myself to the soft sound of his breathing. Never had felt so close to another person in my entire life.

"Now that that's all settled, we'll be heading down to the dungeons." Donatella's voice penetrated the small sanctuary that Draco and I had created.

We went without protest. We had nothing to fight with, and I didn't even know why they had brought us here today. I maintained a firm grip on Draco's waist as we descended a nearby staircase, afraid to let go of his delicate frame. No matter what happened today, I had to get him out of here. It occurred to me suddenly that everything would be different when we did get out of here. Even though nothing had really changed, I felt resplendent with the new appreciation I had for Draco. We could finally be together.

An unwelcome thought suddenly penetrated my resolve. He had expressed his affections for me months ago, but how did he feel about me now? He couldn't possibly feel the same way about me after all of the mixed signals and heartache I had put him through. Somehow I had to make it up to him; I had to show him how much he meant to me. I felt pangs of immense guilt at the memory of ever having rejected him. How could I have ever told him that I didn't want him? How could I have not seen the beauty in his presence? All that mattered now was getting us out of this place, but I decided then that I would spend the rest of my life showing him just how much he meant to me.

I tried to meet his eyes, but they were trained forward on the path in front of us. We were led to a small, square-shaped room that was only accessible through a rickety, wooden door. The walls and floors were made of pale stone, and there were no windows. One of the men behind us waved his wand and muttered something under his breath. Two sets of handcuffs, chained to the walls on either side of the room, zoomed towards us, and before Draco and I could even react, they were clamped down on our wrists and dragging us to opposite walls of the room. Because the room was so small, we were only about ten feet from each other.

I struggled against my bindings, but there was nothing I could do to break free of them. A dark, wooden table suddenly floated into the room and landed on the floor somewhere in between Draco and myself. On the table there was a handful of black glass bottles. They were all the same shape and height and sitting in a line across the middle of the table. The other wizards and witches who had followed us down here turned around and made their way back up the stairs.

"Each bottle on the table in front of you is a potion that if consumed will elicit a different result," Donatella started. "Draco made many of them, so he knows what they can do, and I tested them on one of my house elves for efficacy. Some of the potions are very harmful, and some are not. One of these bottles contains a potion that will kill." She paused for effect. "You two are going to play a game. You will take turns choosing a potion to drink. The game ends when one of you dies." She was positively elated by the end of this explanation.

"Why are you doing this?" Draco whimpered, his voice shrill.

"It has only been a few months since the Dark Lord's death, but his passing will not stop his followers from carrying out his ultimate goal. We will finish what he started by putting all of those muggle-born abominations to death." As she spoke her eyes grew wild and she gestured animatedly into the air as though envisioning the horrors she was talking about. "Once Harry Potter is out of the picture, no one will stand in our way. And as for you Draco, unfortunately you just made friends with the wrong sort." My blood ran cold at the her words, parallel to the words I had used to bring Draco and I together. "Harry might not have even come if we hadn't lured him here through you."

"Then why not just kill me?" I shouted at her hopefully. "Skip the game! Let Draco go! Just kill me."

Before responding to me she looked right into my eyes and scowled.

"Harry Potter, I may not know you very well on a personal level, but I know enough about you to say that the world will be a better place when you're no longer in it. I want your last moments to be spent with worry, fear, and dread. If we were to just kill you, well, where would the fun be in that?"

Draco eyed me fearfully through a layer of unshed tears. I clenched my jaw and curled my hands into fists. I would never forgive these people for doing this to Draco. If only he wasn't here right now; if only we had never become friends. I couldn't have saved him from all of this. My eyes sought out Donatella's, pleading for her to reason with us, but she simply smiled pleasantly back at me.

"Oh, and one more thing," she added. "There is a time limit for how long you can take to choose and drink the potion. The room will fill with water until you drown if you take too long."

With that comment, she turned on her heel and left the room. The door slammed shut behind her, and we were alone.