"Hmm. Would you rather… dress in drag for a day or lick peanut butter off of a hobo's foot?"
"The second one," the reply came without a second's hesitation.
Draco slowly faced the Quileute with a raised eyebrow of astonishment.
"I enjoy peanut butter." Jacob rationalized with a shrug.
Draco laughed and squeezed the fingers that were laced through his. "It's your turn now."
"Alright. Uhm, if you were a mythical creature, what would you be?"
The two turned a bend in the path and reached a bench that had a healthy layer of snow piled on it. Jake bent and swept the accumulation to one side and sat down, pulling Draco down to straddle his lap. Draco kissed him sweetly while he thought.
"Something mythical, as in something magic that doesn't exist? Like a werewolf?"
Jacob laughed. "Well, we know that vampires and werewolves exist, so pick something different."
Draco considered for a bit longer and Jake had to laugh again. "Jeez, Babe. Don't hurt yourself, it's a game!"
"…What if I wanted to be a wizard?"
Jake grinned. "With a hat?" he asked cheekily as he swept damp hair out of his eyes with a casual shake of his head. Draco stuffed his cold hands deeper into the pockets of Jacob's coat. He rubbed them against his boyfriend's hips, feeling his heat radiate even through the layers of fabric separating them. "Only on certain occasions," he answered seriously.
"Hm." Jacob seemed to consider this. "Well, I guess you can be a wizard."
"I need your permission?" Draco scoffed.
"Excuse me, but if you had said 'unicorn,' then we would have had a problem."
Draco sneered as though he couldn't condone such a feminine thought. He then lifted his left leg and rolled off of Jacob so that they were sat side by side on the bench. The creaking sound of snow being crunched beneath his feet echoed around them in the still, dark woods as his footprints stamped the snow. He was thankful for the insulation provided by his dragon-hide boots and smiled to himself; oh, the perks of having the top-of-the-line.
"Hey Jacob?"
Said shape shifter turned to face him, he had been craning his neck over his shoulder to examine their surroundings. "What?"
"What if I told you that-
"Hang on," Jake interrupted.
Draco fell silent. The trees behind the bench rustled faintly and in a split second Jacob was on his feet. He whipped out a strong arm and reeled backward as he snagged the torso of a sprinting Edward Cullen from seemingly nothingness. There was a crack like a gun being fired as they made contact and Jake shouted out. He stumbled back and gripped his elbow with his right hand as a grimace twisted his face. "What are you doing here?" he bit out, cradling his injured arm at an odd angle. Edward shook back his shaggy hair and wrinkled his nose at the werewolf. "I've been told there's trouble with Harry. Just let me go."
"Trouble? He was taking a leak!" Jake protested. Edward raised an eyebrow. "Either he's in trouble now, or he will be. Either way, I'm going." He turned away from the couple and continued on through the woods, branches whipping his person as he moved swiftly through the growth.
"Is your arm alright?" Draco asked his companion.
"It will be. It looks like a clean enough break and we heal rapidly," Jake answered. He felt his arm tenderly with his large fingers. "Come on," he beckoned after a moment, and Draco followed him as he ducked off the path and followed the trail of broken foliage that Edward left behind.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
"So the important question is, is this witch or wizard a threat?" The Gryffindor was asking a group of men.
"Ah," the stalker thought to himself. "Of course he has a guard."
The man shifted heavy branches away from his face and peered closer, straining his ears. He didn't risk an eavesdropping charm, having not used magic since the initial apparation which had been some distance from his current location, some time ago. He was wary of his signature being tracked, and it seemed that he had good reason to be. He felt frigid water seep through the thin soles of his ministry-provided footwear. Lifting first his right, then his left foot from the icy ground to wiggle his infected toes, he offered each limb a precious few seconds' reprieve from the snow he stood in.
So they knew he was here. Well, they didn't know who he was. Yet. And they didn't know that he was a mere few meters from where they huddled, planning. The man scoffed mentally. What an inadequate bunch the ministry really was. Not a drop of solid ability had entered the auror program in the last decade. He clenched a black wand tighter in his stiff, gloveless grip and counted the men again.
He crouched lower, curling a bit and allowing the little warmth he held to re-circulate back through his emaciated body. He cursed softly when he felt the brambles that scratched his shins snag firmly on the frayed edge of his thin, matted robe. He kicked furiously with his foot until the thorns released their gnarled hold, and he hardly felt it when blood ran freely down his numb leg to stain the fresh white snow.
Eleven. There were eleven in all, including Potter, who happened to look entirely too comfortable. He wasn't even holding a wand, and each of his hands was tucked into the opposite's sleeve.
"Yes," he thought. "Always too confidant."
He again moved the low hanging branches away from his line of sight and raised his wand, aiming carefully for the man who was talking to the Boy-Who-Lived. He recognized him. It was Amos Diggory, of the auror department; the man who outlived his own boy.
He smirked.
The green light flared from the depth of the trees and raced toward Amos with the rushing sound of death to accompany it. The men in the clearing had only time for their eyes to widen before the jet struck the man in the center of his torso. There was a half-shout, an uttered cry from someone's lips, before Diggory slumped solidly to the ground; his gaze as shocked and empty as his son's had been.
Lucius sniffed in satisfaction and ducked low, peering through the filthy hair that hung in his face. Now Potter was on his feet, his wand drawn. He stood in an offensive stance, staring into the trees a good 15 feet to the left of where the killer was actually crouched. Two men fell to their knees beside Diggory and searched him for a pulse. Malfoy crept sideways toward where the Gryffindor stood, and waited patiently for something- he didn't yet know what it would be. Eventually, Harry turned away from the trees, looking behind him to glare at his comrades who remained beside the corpse of Amos.
"You are a fool if you think you can help him," he called to them.
Lucius took his chance as the Gryffindor spoke. He moved swiftly from his place and raised his arm as he crashed through the brush, a deadly curse on his lips.
And then the pain erupted. He first felt impact on his right side, then a scraping, digging, answering pain flaring on his back. Blazing golden eyes firmly stared into his grey ones, and he felt more than heard a deep growl rip from the chest of his assailant. The bark of the tree to which he was pinned cracked against his back and his face twisted with the shock of the contact.
"Is this him?" the one who held him demanded. Lucius felt hands, icy as the snow, grip the collar of his robe and press into him firmly, strong enough to create a heavy pressure yet gentle enough to not splinter his sternum or ribs. He squirmed pitifully and had his breath shaken from him in punishment.
"That's him, Edward." Potter confirmed. "Lucius Malfoy."
Anger flashed in the eyes of the man called Edward as he bent his head to speak with the wizard he held.
"You've caused me a lot of difficulty and pain, you know."
Lucius laughed tightly, gasping for breath at the same time as it was pressed from his lungs. "You think so?" he rasped haughtily. "You don't know pain," he whispered. He flicked his right hand and hissed loudly "Crucio."
The world around them erupted as Edward's screams echoed though the trees. He lay on the ground, writhing and twitching; the nerves which had not felt pain in a century were suddenly alight with a fire his being could not endure. Unbearably loud, inhuman shouts of agony rent the air and Lucius stood watching calmly, his wand trained with precision on his victim.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Draco followed obediently as Jacob's bulk crashed through the dense forestry in their way. He couldn't decide if he was relieved or infuriated that he had been interrupted in the moment he gained courage to spill his secrets to the werewolf. Suddenly screams split the silence around them, and Draco recognized the pain expressed with it as the stuff of his nightmares- the stuff of his memories. But, no… Who would be doing such a thing?
Jake turned to face him swiftly as the shouts continued. "That's Cullen," he said, his tone amazed. "That's got to mean there's another vampire with them. What else could make him scream like that?" he ambled onward, picking up his pace and Draco sped up to grasp his hand and walk beside him. Now at a bit of a run, they wondered what would meet them when they reached the source of the screaming; which had not ceased, but had taken on a hoarse quality. Draco strained his ears to catch something other than the agony, and he knew by the way that Jacob's head was cocked slightly to the left, his boyfriend was doing the same.
And then a shout accompanied the cacophony that assaulted their ears.
"Expelliarmus!"
Jake looked at him excitedly. "Did you hear that? Latin! Maybe it's the Volturi! I could phase, and see what's going on, maybe I could do something!"
"No, Jake. Don't do that." Draco felt for his wand, secured as always on his left arm, and felt comforted by the feel of it. He was armed.
"Why not?" Jacob demanded. They continued to advance, and both noticed that the trees were spacing- they were approaching a clearing, and without saying anything they both slowed their pace.
"I just think that it could be dangerous," Draco said quietly.
Jacob stopped walking. "Could be dangerous? Of course it could be. There's a vampire screaming bloody murder over there. God damn it, Draco. What the hell's the matter with you lately?"
Draco turned to face him. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you've been acting weird the past while, and I want to know why. You're titchy, like you want to say something all the time but won't spit it out. Tonight you're talking about your father one second, and nothing the next, and now you want me, a werewolf whose purpose is to fight and kill vampires, to investigate one screaming his head off, because it 'could be dangerous.'"
The pureblood felt recognition wash over him. "You don't trust me!" he said accusingly.
Jake was quiet for a second in which he worked his jaw and licked his lips once. Neither of them seemed to notice that the screaming had stopped.
"No. I don't," the wolf admitted.
He turned away and headed toward their destination once more. He took off his shirt and folded it messily before laying it on a branch for safekeeping. He began to toe off his shoes when Draco spoke hesitantly from behind him.
"My father is in prison."
Jake turned to look at him.
"He's a criminal. His execution is set for this summer."
Draco eyed the trees to his right, not looking Jacob in the face. He flinched when the werewolf snorted disbelievingly.
"Of course he is," the Quileute bit at him sarcastically. "That's convenient. That's why I can't meet him, is it? Tell me, Draco. Have you ever told me the truth?"
The slytherin stayed silent.
"You disgust me, Draco Malfoy." Jacob spat. He kicked off his shoes and turned away half-clothed to head into the clearing.
Draco looked up at the back of the werewolf and crunched through the snow to catch up with him. He reached out to grab a warm arm and let go quickly when his grasp was shaken off. "Fine. Don't trust me. Just listen to me. Humor me, for a little while. You stay here and let me go first. And if anything gets me, I'll have deserved it. Please."
Jake wouldn't make eye contact with him. He looked around as though an answer would come to him from his surroundings. Finally, he breathed in angrily through his nose and held it before meeting his gaze. "Fine." He said shortly, and he leaned comfortably against the thick trunk of a tree and didn't look at him again.
Draco nodded. "Thanks," he said quietly. And then he sprinted away toward the voices they had heard.
.:.:.:.:.
Draco emerged from the trees and entered into a nightmare. Edward Cullen lay squirming in the snow, panting as a viscous clear liquid leaked from his slack mouth and trailed down his jaw to stain his collar. Across the clearing one of the guard was spreadeagled on the ground, his eyes staring lifelessly and his skin tainted a faint gray against the white of the pure snow. Harry and the other members of the guard stood facing a man, their wands focused steadily in a warning not to move. Draco froze.
"Father," he whispered in disbelief.
His blond hair was matted and uneven, as though a sloppy severing charm or a dulled blade had been used to keep it mostly at bay. It hung in limp curtains around his wasted, rugged, once-handsome face, and some of his scalp was visible where it had fallen out in chunks and strands. He wore prison robes; ministry issued, thin and gray, charmed to be impossible for the wearer to remove himself so as to make the odd escapee more easily recognized. The robes were ragged and stained at the lower half, most likely from scrapes on his legs and from trailing against the ground. He had an odor to him. It didn't reach the wizards in the clearing, but it was known that he was filthy, and so he stank. His face was thin- disgustingly so, with hollowed cheeks and a protruding jawbone, and yet he retained the manic glint in his eye that had appeared there after his first stay in Azkaban- around the same time that he informed his only son that he would become a loyal Death Eater like his relatives before him. Draco had been fifteen.
The younger Malfoy noticed his father's wand lay just feet from its owner, close enough for a wandless summoning charm to win it back.
"You," he said quietly. "It was you."
Lucius smirked and inclined his head. "You knew it was. I am surprised you didn't report me."
Draco shook his head. "Deep down, I suppose. But I wouldn't believe it."
"Draco, what is going on?" Demanded Harry. Draco felt around his collar for a necklace that hung there always. "I felt him. A-a week ago, at the Manor. I didn't think it could be him though- you, you would have told me if he was…" he trailed off at the guilty look on Harry's face and Lucius laughed.
"When?" Draco asked sharply.
"The same time Edward left," Harry admitted. The vampire on the ground groaned at the reminder.
"What do you mean you felt him?"
Draco shook the necklace. "I mean that I feel it here, when someone enters the Manor. I assumed the ministry were conducting searches again!"
"Why would you assume that?" Harry's voice rose to a shout.
"Well, you didn't see fit to inform me that my own Father has escaped Azkaban Prison!" Draco shouted back. He faced his father angrily and pulled his wand from its sheath, holding it delicately in his right hand. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" he asked the group at large.
"You are finally happy, Draco! I didn't want to ruin it," the Gryffindor explained.
"Well thank you for your concern, Potter, because I am absolutely thrilled now; facing the man who made my childhood hell, in the middle of these god-forsaken woods, whilst dressed as a damned muggle!" his shout rose to a crescendo and his voice broke on the last word, black sparks spraying from his wand in his fury. His chest heaving, Draco regained control over himself and gritted his teeth. "What are you looking at," he ground out to his father, who was staring just beyond his son's shoulder.
"Don't end a sentence with a preposition, Draco." The prisoner's offhand admonition seemed well versed and Draco scowled. And as realization welled in Lucius' eyes, he smirked. "Tell me, my son. What have you done to honor our Master since His tragic demise?"
"You know I have done nothing in the Dark Lord's name, Father."
The man tutted and shook his head slowly. "Such a shame. Nothing since that raid on the muggle children's home in London."
Draco paled.
"Ah, you remember?"
"I couldn't forget, you sick bastard," Draco spat.
Lucius tutted again. "I should think not! How could one forget such good fun?"
Draco's anger flared and he raised his wand, pulling it violently through the air in a slashing motion. Lucius' eyes widened and he tucked into himself. He felt the curse split through his side and continue past him, cutting through the thick trees. His blood eagerly leaked from the gruesome wound in his torso, soaked the shredded cloth of his robe and splashed the fresh snow a vibrant red. Pressing one hand curiously to the wet and sticky warmth he allowed a grimace to twist his face.
"Ah ah ah, Draco," the elder said playfully, he wagged a bloody finger as though punishing a child. He staggered manically and his torn robes shifted to reveal the extent of the wound he now bore. The paper-like skin of his thin abdomen was gouged away, exposing massacred tissue and a hint of white bone. Lucius covered himself again with the bloody hand and kept his balance.
"No magic in front of the muggle," he hissed, and he smiled triumphantly as Draco, horrified, turned to come face to face with the shocked gaze of Jacob Black.
In a flurry of commotion, several cracks split the air and the rest of the guard materialized in the clearing. As white smoke billowed from beneath them, there was another crack and Lucius Malfoy was gone in a cloud of darkness. Draco had not moved a muscle. His wand was still gripped tightly, held offensively in front of him as though frozen there while he stared and was stared at. His eyes were locked with Jacob's, who was shaking his head slowly, his confusion and fear immediate in his gaze. So lost was he that when Harry began to shout it sounded as though he were screaming from under water.
"How the hell did he get away? Have you no tact? You are the elite! The best! Has no one taught you stealth? Your appiration just cost us his capture! Draco! Someone! You," he pointed at the group of guards still standing over Amos, who looked startled and panicked.
"You can't have expected us to do anything, Potter. With you disarming him and the Malfoys ranting, what was our job to be in that?"
"I don't know, you stupid man!" he shouted, sounding furious. "Snap his wand, set wards…" he dropped himself into the snow beside Edward. "…something! I'm sorry!"
The clearing was eerily silent while Edward gathered himself and Harry breathed heavily and unevenly. After a moment, the boy who lived spoke.
"I want the elite to return the body to England. You will go to Shaklebolt. Tell him to tell the press that Diggory was killed in the line of duty- on an auror assignment. Give him to his wife. Have him buried with honors next to Cedric. Take care of anything you need, then return to the safe-house, You have three days. Go."
The elite members of the guard somberly approached Amos. One bent and gently closed the still-staring eyes, another retrieved the hufflepuff's wand from the snow and tucked it into the inner breast pocket of its owner's cloak. Then they levitated the corpse, gripped it securely, and disapperated from the place.
When they were gone, Harry turned to another man. "Go back to the house," he hesitated and looked over to Draco and Jacob, who were still motionless though Draco had begun to whisper what sounded like a plea to listen. Jake continued to shake his head.
"and floo the ministry. I want a professional obliviator under oath from the unspeakable department," he ordered hollowly. The man nodded, and then he too was gone.
"Are you alright?" the Gryffindor asked his boyfriend. He reached out and wiped venom from Edward's chin with the cuff of his sleeve. "Yes," he vampire said. "I'm not used to feeling pain, that's all. I forget what it is like to experience."
Harry shook his head. "That's not all. You were under the cruciatus. That curse isn't just pain, Edward. It's a torture beyond what anyone should experience."
"Have you cast it?" Edward asked curiously.
"Yes." Harry answered. He didn't elaborate, but the vampire tugged him forward and pressed their lips together softly. "I'm fine now," he said confidently.
They stood together and once more Harry addressed the rest of his guard. "Go home and tell Dedalus to check the wards around the house. I don't want Lucius finding his way to our home. We will need the obliviator when we arrive home, so make him welcome. You two," he pointed out two random men. "Start tracking Malfoy's signature again. I know tracking's not your forte yet, but give it a shot. He most likely will have apperated to several points before reaching his destination, so be quick before you lose the trail. Good luck." The final two men left in a cloud of white. Harry leaned back against his boyfriend, taking comfort in his secure arms. "Edward." He whispered. "This is all my fault."
.:.:.:.:.:.
"Please listen to me, let me explain." Draco urged quietly, his lips barely moving. Jacob took a step back from the wizard, hesitantly, as one would approach a wild animal. "I don't know what is going on," he answered brokenly. He looked over Draco's head to the trees where a bright light had ripped from the blond and cut through a man and trees like butter. The snow was colored red from the violent attack.
"But I don't want you to explain it to me."