Ron's Worst Nightmare
A/N: THANX TO Hana-chan: Yes, the flashbacks *were* a little iffy, I admit. *grin* YoungPadfoot: *giggles like such a girl!* Hee, thanky. And how do I manage it? It's all for you peoples, so it HAS to be good! Rose: Welcome aboard, darling, glad to have you! Thief: *grin* here it is then, enjoy! JollyGreen: I'm flattered! *blush* And as for the magazine questions, the answers are all in order, Ron, Harry, Draco. Robert D: *snort* I'll keep it in mind, lovey. *_~ Jack Flinch: YAY, I'm crunchy now! scythfire: I'm begining to get the feeling no one really liked the flashbacks.... Lulu-Chan: *crosses fingers, too* Me, too! leanne: Ah, so good it is to know I'm influencing the youth!! ^_^ Danielle: Tanky ^_^ sabellestarte: Ooh, I tried to hurry - ish! chimerical: Oh, it pleases me so to have someone so loyal! *sob*
Chapter Twelve: An Eye for an Eye
"The have him? You mean he's gone? As in 'GONE'?!" Harry sprang to his feet, the stinging scar forgotten. Draco watched him impassively from the floor, his eyes glinting macabrely in the moonlight. He lips pressed into a thin line as Harry began to pace frantically. The Gryffindor started ranting off to himself and ignoring Draco, who was in fact thinking of a humane way to shut the blockhead up without spilling too much blood in the process.
"It's all my fault!"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Potter. Although I'm finding out that for you stupidity in unavoidable."
"They were probably aiming for me instead and just made a mistake," wailed Harry pitifully.
"Potter, calm down for bloody sakes."
"I could die!"
The blonde sighed wistfully, "Only if. But you're wrong, Potter. They weren't after you."
"My best friend. I can't believe it!" Harry was clearly not paying a scrap of attention to Draco as he paced the room, clutching his head and positively thrumming with pent up tension. So Draco rolled his eyes and stuck out his foot, sending Harry crashing to the floor. Before the frantic seeker could pick himself up, Draco planted himself resolutely on the middle of Harry's back. While the green eyed boy continued to flail about, Draco calmly gave him a thwap on the back of the head which accomplished absolutely nothing but sending Harry into more desperate waggles for freedom.
"Get off, Malfoy! What do you think you're do-"
"Shut up Potter, you twit. Stop wriggling about. The only reason I am even touching you is so that I may try and pound a new idea into your impossibly thick skull. Now, shut the bloody hell up." To his mild surprise, Harry did indeed become quiet, biting his lip and just lying still, his nose pressed to the carpet.
Taking a deep breath, Draco continued, "It isn't your fault, surprisingly. Sorry to break it you and your hero sized ego, Potter, but not everything on the face of the planet evolves around you and your rotting scar." He ignored Harry's startled (and if somewhat panicked) look and said coldly, "They took Ron to get to me. And that is why you are still here, much to the furor of us all I am sure. But they need to get to me, and that is why they didn't risk kidnapping you, Golden Boy. Because I really don't give a damn about *your* well being." Harry winced at the harsh words, but managed to crane his neck around enough to say clearly, "Why didn't they just steal you if it's *you* they're after in the first place?"
"Because, you dolt, this is Lucius we're dealing with. He loves to play his sick little games and torment the unwilling players. He's just teasing us, luring the both of us who he needs to acquire into a deadly snare. That way he won't have to take us by force and risk all sorts of protective charms placed over either of us. Killing two birds with one stone," said Draco bemusedly, "But regardless of the dangerous gamble we would be taking, we have to go after Ron. What choice do we have when we're what they want, therefor the only ones who can keep Ron safe?" He looked at Harry and the sprawling boy was glad he was lying down for the expression of Draco's face would have surely floored him: It was contorted into such a terrible look of remorse and fear. Though in truth it was just a ghostly sheen over the violent black rage heating beneath.
"You mean that you want us to sneak off and attack your fa- Lucius? Shouldn't we at least contact someone in case something goes wrong?"
One of the perfect shaped eyebrows arched up cynically as the mask slipped back over his face to hide the emotions within. A tight smile played over his lips. "Why, Potter. Is it really *you* in that gawky frame suggesting *help* from *adults*?"
Harry glared hotly and spat, "Well, Malfoy, there's a lot more at stake now."
"Haven't you been listening to a *word* I've said," cried Draco, leaping to his feet and throwing up his arms in exasperation. But Harry only picked himself up and dusted himself off, saying flatly, "You mean besides all the insults you've been throwing at me."
"Oh, don't be such a monkey, Potter."
"Draco Malfoy just called me a monkey. The world is going to collapse on itself in a matter of seconds."
The aforementioned monkey caller gave Harry a wry look. "We don't have time to argue, Potter. If we're going to go after Ron, we might as well do it now before Mrs. Weasly or Bill shows up to stop us. We haven't much time, knowing Lucius. He grows bored easily." Draco went to the window and grasped the sill. "We'll have to take the brooms if we want to be fast. And it might be useful to have that odd cloak of yours, too."
"Give me a minute to wake Hermione and Ginny."
Draco pursed his lips. "Are you sure it would be wise to let them tag along? This is not a petty midnight escapade around the school halls. But you've always been one to put your friends' necks out after all," commented Draco drily, coming back from the window to stand in front of Harry. The raven haired boy only glared and rushed out of the room. A few minutes later a bleary eyed Ginny and a worried Hermione ambled through the door. Bushy hair bouncing in unruly frizz, the brunette threw her arms around Harry's neck. Ginny just looked stunned and sat down heavily on the bed. Seeing her expression, Draco went out on a rickety limb and sat down next to her. She met his earnest eyes dully and before he could move, she fell into his stiff and somewhat surprised embrace, sobbing. Draco went stiff backed and lightly patted her head, leaning as far as he could away from her.
Hermione drew away from Harry and stroked back his bangs from his sweaty forehead. "We need to hurry, you guys," she said shakily, meeting each of their eyes in turn, "But how will we get there?"
"Brooms," said Draco, carefully disentangling himself from a shivering Ginny. Hermione nodded and slipped her arms around her friend. "C'mon, Gin," she whispered, pulling the redhead to her feet, "We need to go get Ron back." At her brother's name, Ginny's head came up and she set her tear streaked face into such a look of determination that Draco almost felt a pang of sympathy for the Death Eater who got in-between her and her brother.
When they had gotten the brooms out, Harry immediately mounted, as did Draco. Hermione hopped up behind Draco and Ginny perched behind Harry. After a quick kickoff, they flew up high into the cover of the dark clouds lacing the navy sky. They cut through the misty condensed liquid like knives through butter, sending streams of wispy cloud trailing behind them.
Hermione leaned up over Draco's shoulder and yelled shrilly, "Do you know where to go, then?"
Draco craned his neck around and answered over his shoulder, "The Malfoy Mansion."
Hermione felt a chill play down her spine at the mention of the accursed house. She had once heard someone at school refer to it as a place "-where mudbloods can really find a place..... beneath the floors." Unconsciously she tightened her grip around Draco's wasp thin waist. Behind them, Harry and Ginny swept up beneath, following grimly. Harry's knuckles were white, so tight was his hold on the broom handle. Flaming red hair whipped like a blazing banner out behind the lower broom from Ginny, who had her head buried into Harry's shoulder, fighting back tears with worry over her brother.
The flight was long, freezing cod, and eerily quiet. All of Draco's thoughts were flitted with lurid memories of what he had witnessed in past the times at his old home. Dungeons below their floors, medieval torture devices. His father was widely known as a collector of such things. He laughed humorlessly, his voice lost on the wind. And they all thought that it was *just* to collect.
For all he knew, Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself was there waiting, too. Harry would fall right into his clutches, just as he himself would fall into his father's. And what of Granger and Ron's sister? Though Draco wouldn't openly admit it, ever, he really wanted no harm to come to those two girls, they had treated him fairly while he had been in their company. The thought of them getting hurt pained him deeper than he cared to admit at the time.
And then of course there was Ron. Draco felt cold, and not just from the icy wind or the clouds clinging to his flesh. This was inside seeping out over his skin like a vile potion. He wanted to sob like Ginny, but he was the key in Ron's rescue. A plan was formulating in his mind as he flew swiftly over the landscape. If worse came to worse..... Draco himself could always make the ultimate sacrifice.
Dipping beneath the thin layer of frosted gray clouds, Draco squinted over the dismal earth far below. Mist blocked much of the view, and it was hard to see anything at all through the gloom. He glanced down at Harry, his eyes blending so much with the surrounding dark silvers and grays. The other boy seemed to be concentrating very hard on searching the grounds. It was with the look Draco had christened the "Seeker Look". Potter will find it without a doubt, thought Draco sourly. We can't have that. He'll end up bumbling his way - and all of ours' too - into one of Lucius' many traps bordering the perimeter of Malfoy Manor.
So Draco redoubled his efforts, fueled by the instinctual rivalry and shot his broom almost in a headlong dive, causing Hermione to squeal with fright and grip him even harder, practically crushing his ribs. But he ignored her and sped through the mist, dodging trees that appeared out of a freezing ghost land. Draco allowed himself a bitter smile, leaning heavily into his broom as he heard Ginny's screech behind him. Potter must've dived, too. Like Draco knew he would.
The brooms fought through the thick sea of mist hanging as a ghostly blanket of ice over the wet ground. Harry and Draco weaved in and out of the trees, twisting and turning with the sleek grace only seekers could truly possess.
For a fleeting second, the sun rose and the mist became semi warm clouds. Green eyes framed by thick glasses shifted into a warm brown gaze framed with nicely freckled skin. And Draco did not feel this terrible cold racking his body as a shivering fever, but a pleasant feeling of twining through the clouds on a fresh Summer day with a boy who seemed to really care about him.
Ron.
"Damn," he hissed, "Damn you, Lucius. You miserable bastard."
As the two speeding brooms crested a small rise, flying smoothly now over the mist, Draco saw the great manor looming over them on the top of a jagged hill, the giant white moon sitting behind it as a floating silver medallion. The last of the sweet memory of Draco and Ron's first flight together melted away, replaced fully by the sight of this gruesome domicile. He yanked the broom to a jarring stop, Hermione knocking into him and hitting her chin painfully on his jutting shoulder blade.
Harry pulled to a stop a little behind with Ginny, looking around inquisitively. "What is it?" he asked. Draco dismounted and on contact with the ground, instantly sunk ankle deep into a reeking bog. Hermione stepped off lightly behind him and Ginny pulled up her nightgown before splotching wetly down off the broom, Harry reaching out to steady her. Then his wide green eyes turned and looked hard at Draco and he seemed ready to yell when the blonde turned his face up to the sky and breathed distantly, slipping his eyes shut, "You don't see it, do you? This could really prove to be a hassle." He hugged himself as if cold and bowed his head. Automatically the others made their way closer, dragging their feet wetly through the protesting muck. But the pewter eyes snapped open and he said flatly to no one in particular, "I need something sharp. The only chance we have to get in is if you are able to *see*." They must've looked confused because Draco then reached forward and nimbly plucked a hairpin out of Ginny's hair, allowing a loose curl of fire down her pale cheek. "In other words," he continued ruefully, "you need some of my blood. *Malfoy* blood." Next he took the sharp edge of the pin and started dragging it harshly over his sensitive skin on the underline of his arm. A thin line of blood seeped into view and Harry lunged forward, grabbing Draco's hands and wrenching the pin from the smaller boy's grip.
"What in bloody hell do you think you're doing," he screeched, having pinned the stony faced Draco against the gnarled trunk of a tree and holding his hands firmly above the blonde head. Draco was livid and began to struggle.
"Are you mad?" he hissed.
Harry snorted, "You're asking *me* this?"
"Don't you understand! You need my blood to see the mansion."
Ginny frowned, eyeing the still oozing cut marring the pale skin. "Like Hogwarts," she mused. "If it means getting Ron any quicker..... but don't go mutilating yourself! Isn't there a -
*cleaner* - route to take?"
Draco stared at her blankly for several moments before looking slowly back to his arm which was arched up above his head from Harry's firm hold. Hermione, clucking and tutting like a dead ringer for Madam Pomfrey, moved her wand over his wound, sealing it up. He gazed at it numbly while Ginny and Hermione both fussed over him mercilessly, each bickering over a plan of action. The redhead was ranting on about nonsense and Hermione was trying desperately to analyze the situation sensibly. Then they turned on Harry and squalled at him loudly for just standing there like a louse and gawking.
A few minutes past with Draco much enjoying himself. Golden Boy getting lectured while *he* was petted and pampered. Then the more mature and practical side of Draco Malfoy took control and he decided that it was certainly over due time to go. So he asked what way they thought he could get his blood.
"I'll have to somehow cut myself," he said logically, "Then you can just pick a scab or something. Otherwise you'll be destroyed once our boundary spells track you. My blood will be an authorization by one of the Malfoy house. Lucius would always carry around a vile of blood with him for unexpected visitors and the like. It's that or you'll be killed on the spot." Draco slumped down next to the tree and looked up at the three Gryffindors. What company I keep in this quaint little group, he thought sardonically, Harry Potter, the hero of Gryffindor and a God to the whole blasted wizarding world; Hermione Granger, muggle-born genius and Head Girl; Ginny, the best chaser Hogwarts' seen in years. And then there was him: Draco Malfoy. Need I say more?
Hermione plopped down beside him and gave him a long searching look. Then she smiled sadly and said rather out of the blue; "You're not so terrible, Draco Malfoy."
The mist clung to all their heads and wrapped around each individual hair. It ended up taming Hermione's wild frizz, much to her delight.
By the time Draco had convinced them that a little cut is all it would take, the moon had risen to rest atop the uppermost tower of the Manor, perched upon the tallest spire to its highest peak in the velvety black sky. Hermione was the one who performed the actual cutting, causing Draco less pain than he had deemed possible in such a case.
"Okay, all set. Ginny, I know you have that scab left on your knee from Crookshanks and if you pick that off, it should suffice. Correct?" Draco nodded solemnly, gripping his wrist to staunch the flow of blood somewhat. Ginny obediently ripped the clotted scab part way off, wincing, and let Draco press his wrist to the reopened wound. Next Hermione neatly made a small cut on her own wrist and pressed it firmly to Draco's. Last of all, Harry was inspecting himself for scabs, but found none. Then Ginny pointed out the gash he acquired from a perilously swinging Quidditch bat.
Instantly he flushed and glared hotly at her. Hermione rolled her eyes and said reasonably, "Harry, I don't want to open anyone else up." She smiled slyly. "If you want, Ginny and I won't look."
Harry made a face and whined, "But-"
"*BUTT* what Harry?"
"Oh!" He stomped over resolutely to a startled Draco and glared witheringly at the Slytherin, who started to look very coy indeed, guessing what was going on. Harry quickly pulled down his pj bottoms and pulled up his boxer leg, giving Draco a perfect view of half his left bum cheek upon which sat a nasty scratch scabbed over. "Alright, Malfoy," he managed through clenched teeth, "do it now before I change my mind." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried not to bask in memories of such times as Draco's long fingered hand half cupped his bum, allowing the bleeding wrist to press to the flesh. "Well," he squeaked, "This is just bloody ducky!"
~*~
Bill Apparated into the kitchen, yawning widely. He glanced around, hearing only quiet, deciding that the teens were all fast asleep. Then he proceeded to laugh at himself at the very idea. "Don't be a blathering fool," he muttered and went upstairs.
Peeking in all the rooms, he found them empty. Not quite worried just yet, the oldest Weasly went back down the stairs and conjured himself up a nice cup of Chamomile tea. Sipping it gratefully, he opened the back door and stepped outside, kicking aside a nasty little gnome trying to bash his foot in with a makeshift club made out of a rotten beet.
"Ron?" Walking further into the garden, he looked around, still not quite yet worried. They were probably playing a joke on him, knowing them, the little rascals. "Don't tell me I just called my siblings and their friends 'rascals'!" he exclaimed. "Merlin, I'm turning into my dad already." Laughing, he slipped back inside, but not before calling one more time, "I'm not leaving until you guys decide to come out! I don't have time for this, Ronald!"
A copy of the Daily Prophet lay on the table and Bill scooped it up in one hand, still drinking the steaming tea. His eyes scanned over the text without much interest, his ears pricked for any noise other than the quiet slurps of his drink. Where can those brats be, he thought with amusement to himself, remembering when he had been that age.
"Not so long ago," he reminded himself firmly, tugging distractedly on his ponytail. Getting a bit fed up, he glanced at the clock.
Molly/Mum: Traveling
Arthur/Dad: Traveling
Bill: Home
Charlie: Work
Percy: Traveling
Fred: Trouble
George: Trouble
Ron: Mortal Peril
Ginny: Mortal Peril
He calmly went back to sipping his tea, humming to himself. "When did I start drinking Chamomile?" he asked himself aloud, staring at the cup. "Or talking to myself for that matter! Ha. Wait, stop!" Laughing, he sat down and conjured up a nice pasty for himself.
Suddenly his back went rigid and his blue eyes almost bugged out of their sockets. He leapt to his feet as if on fire, the cup hitting the floor and breaking into splinters, and threw himself at the clock, pressing his nose to the glass and fogging it up with his heavy breath.
"Shite!"
A/N: Ah, I just love ending my chappies with swear words. *sigh* Anyhooslers! So there you go then. That what you see above this message is the result of 105 degree heat! Oy, vacations scare me so. And I sincerely apologize if I messed up on the Weasley clocky thingy. Forgive me, I searched the books for the right readings - because I'm not quite sure if it's "mortal peril". *sob* I'm a failure!! *brightens up considerably* Next part might not be up so terribly soon due to school startage. Freshman!! AAURGH!! *faints dead away*
~*Villain*~
A/N: THANX TO Hana-chan: Yes, the flashbacks *were* a little iffy, I admit. *grin* YoungPadfoot: *giggles like such a girl!* Hee, thanky. And how do I manage it? It's all for you peoples, so it HAS to be good! Rose: Welcome aboard, darling, glad to have you! Thief: *grin* here it is then, enjoy! JollyGreen: I'm flattered! *blush* And as for the magazine questions, the answers are all in order, Ron, Harry, Draco. Robert D: *snort* I'll keep it in mind, lovey. *_~ Jack Flinch: YAY, I'm crunchy now! scythfire: I'm begining to get the feeling no one really liked the flashbacks.... Lulu-Chan: *crosses fingers, too* Me, too! leanne: Ah, so good it is to know I'm influencing the youth!! ^_^ Danielle: Tanky ^_^ sabellestarte: Ooh, I tried to hurry - ish! chimerical: Oh, it pleases me so to have someone so loyal! *sob*
Chapter Twelve: An Eye for an Eye
"The have him? You mean he's gone? As in 'GONE'?!" Harry sprang to his feet, the stinging scar forgotten. Draco watched him impassively from the floor, his eyes glinting macabrely in the moonlight. He lips pressed into a thin line as Harry began to pace frantically. The Gryffindor started ranting off to himself and ignoring Draco, who was in fact thinking of a humane way to shut the blockhead up without spilling too much blood in the process.
"It's all my fault!"
Draco narrowed his eyes. "Don't be stupid, Potter. Although I'm finding out that for you stupidity in unavoidable."
"They were probably aiming for me instead and just made a mistake," wailed Harry pitifully.
"Potter, calm down for bloody sakes."
"I could die!"
The blonde sighed wistfully, "Only if. But you're wrong, Potter. They weren't after you."
"My best friend. I can't believe it!" Harry was clearly not paying a scrap of attention to Draco as he paced the room, clutching his head and positively thrumming with pent up tension. So Draco rolled his eyes and stuck out his foot, sending Harry crashing to the floor. Before the frantic seeker could pick himself up, Draco planted himself resolutely on the middle of Harry's back. While the green eyed boy continued to flail about, Draco calmly gave him a thwap on the back of the head which accomplished absolutely nothing but sending Harry into more desperate waggles for freedom.
"Get off, Malfoy! What do you think you're do-"
"Shut up Potter, you twit. Stop wriggling about. The only reason I am even touching you is so that I may try and pound a new idea into your impossibly thick skull. Now, shut the bloody hell up." To his mild surprise, Harry did indeed become quiet, biting his lip and just lying still, his nose pressed to the carpet.
Taking a deep breath, Draco continued, "It isn't your fault, surprisingly. Sorry to break it you and your hero sized ego, Potter, but not everything on the face of the planet evolves around you and your rotting scar." He ignored Harry's startled (and if somewhat panicked) look and said coldly, "They took Ron to get to me. And that is why you are still here, much to the furor of us all I am sure. But they need to get to me, and that is why they didn't risk kidnapping you, Golden Boy. Because I really don't give a damn about *your* well being." Harry winced at the harsh words, but managed to crane his neck around enough to say clearly, "Why didn't they just steal you if it's *you* they're after in the first place?"
"Because, you dolt, this is Lucius we're dealing with. He loves to play his sick little games and torment the unwilling players. He's just teasing us, luring the both of us who he needs to acquire into a deadly snare. That way he won't have to take us by force and risk all sorts of protective charms placed over either of us. Killing two birds with one stone," said Draco bemusedly, "But regardless of the dangerous gamble we would be taking, we have to go after Ron. What choice do we have when we're what they want, therefor the only ones who can keep Ron safe?" He looked at Harry and the sprawling boy was glad he was lying down for the expression of Draco's face would have surely floored him: It was contorted into such a terrible look of remorse and fear. Though in truth it was just a ghostly sheen over the violent black rage heating beneath.
"You mean that you want us to sneak off and attack your fa- Lucius? Shouldn't we at least contact someone in case something goes wrong?"
One of the perfect shaped eyebrows arched up cynically as the mask slipped back over his face to hide the emotions within. A tight smile played over his lips. "Why, Potter. Is it really *you* in that gawky frame suggesting *help* from *adults*?"
Harry glared hotly and spat, "Well, Malfoy, there's a lot more at stake now."
"Haven't you been listening to a *word* I've said," cried Draco, leaping to his feet and throwing up his arms in exasperation. But Harry only picked himself up and dusted himself off, saying flatly, "You mean besides all the insults you've been throwing at me."
"Oh, don't be such a monkey, Potter."
"Draco Malfoy just called me a monkey. The world is going to collapse on itself in a matter of seconds."
The aforementioned monkey caller gave Harry a wry look. "We don't have time to argue, Potter. If we're going to go after Ron, we might as well do it now before Mrs. Weasly or Bill shows up to stop us. We haven't much time, knowing Lucius. He grows bored easily." Draco went to the window and grasped the sill. "We'll have to take the brooms if we want to be fast. And it might be useful to have that odd cloak of yours, too."
"Give me a minute to wake Hermione and Ginny."
Draco pursed his lips. "Are you sure it would be wise to let them tag along? This is not a petty midnight escapade around the school halls. But you've always been one to put your friends' necks out after all," commented Draco drily, coming back from the window to stand in front of Harry. The raven haired boy only glared and rushed out of the room. A few minutes later a bleary eyed Ginny and a worried Hermione ambled through the door. Bushy hair bouncing in unruly frizz, the brunette threw her arms around Harry's neck. Ginny just looked stunned and sat down heavily on the bed. Seeing her expression, Draco went out on a rickety limb and sat down next to her. She met his earnest eyes dully and before he could move, she fell into his stiff and somewhat surprised embrace, sobbing. Draco went stiff backed and lightly patted her head, leaning as far as he could away from her.
Hermione drew away from Harry and stroked back his bangs from his sweaty forehead. "We need to hurry, you guys," she said shakily, meeting each of their eyes in turn, "But how will we get there?"
"Brooms," said Draco, carefully disentangling himself from a shivering Ginny. Hermione nodded and slipped her arms around her friend. "C'mon, Gin," she whispered, pulling the redhead to her feet, "We need to go get Ron back." At her brother's name, Ginny's head came up and she set her tear streaked face into such a look of determination that Draco almost felt a pang of sympathy for the Death Eater who got in-between her and her brother.
When they had gotten the brooms out, Harry immediately mounted, as did Draco. Hermione hopped up behind Draco and Ginny perched behind Harry. After a quick kickoff, they flew up high into the cover of the dark clouds lacing the navy sky. They cut through the misty condensed liquid like knives through butter, sending streams of wispy cloud trailing behind them.
Hermione leaned up over Draco's shoulder and yelled shrilly, "Do you know where to go, then?"
Draco craned his neck around and answered over his shoulder, "The Malfoy Mansion."
Hermione felt a chill play down her spine at the mention of the accursed house. She had once heard someone at school refer to it as a place "-where mudbloods can really find a place..... beneath the floors." Unconsciously she tightened her grip around Draco's wasp thin waist. Behind them, Harry and Ginny swept up beneath, following grimly. Harry's knuckles were white, so tight was his hold on the broom handle. Flaming red hair whipped like a blazing banner out behind the lower broom from Ginny, who had her head buried into Harry's shoulder, fighting back tears with worry over her brother.
The flight was long, freezing cod, and eerily quiet. All of Draco's thoughts were flitted with lurid memories of what he had witnessed in past the times at his old home. Dungeons below their floors, medieval torture devices. His father was widely known as a collector of such things. He laughed humorlessly, his voice lost on the wind. And they all thought that it was *just* to collect.
For all he knew, Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself was there waiting, too. Harry would fall right into his clutches, just as he himself would fall into his father's. And what of Granger and Ron's sister? Though Draco wouldn't openly admit it, ever, he really wanted no harm to come to those two girls, they had treated him fairly while he had been in their company. The thought of them getting hurt pained him deeper than he cared to admit at the time.
And then of course there was Ron. Draco felt cold, and not just from the icy wind or the clouds clinging to his flesh. This was inside seeping out over his skin like a vile potion. He wanted to sob like Ginny, but he was the key in Ron's rescue. A plan was formulating in his mind as he flew swiftly over the landscape. If worse came to worse..... Draco himself could always make the ultimate sacrifice.
Dipping beneath the thin layer of frosted gray clouds, Draco squinted over the dismal earth far below. Mist blocked much of the view, and it was hard to see anything at all through the gloom. He glanced down at Harry, his eyes blending so much with the surrounding dark silvers and grays. The other boy seemed to be concentrating very hard on searching the grounds. It was with the look Draco had christened the "Seeker Look". Potter will find it without a doubt, thought Draco sourly. We can't have that. He'll end up bumbling his way - and all of ours' too - into one of Lucius' many traps bordering the perimeter of Malfoy Manor.
So Draco redoubled his efforts, fueled by the instinctual rivalry and shot his broom almost in a headlong dive, causing Hermione to squeal with fright and grip him even harder, practically crushing his ribs. But he ignored her and sped through the mist, dodging trees that appeared out of a freezing ghost land. Draco allowed himself a bitter smile, leaning heavily into his broom as he heard Ginny's screech behind him. Potter must've dived, too. Like Draco knew he would.
The brooms fought through the thick sea of mist hanging as a ghostly blanket of ice over the wet ground. Harry and Draco weaved in and out of the trees, twisting and turning with the sleek grace only seekers could truly possess.
For a fleeting second, the sun rose and the mist became semi warm clouds. Green eyes framed by thick glasses shifted into a warm brown gaze framed with nicely freckled skin. And Draco did not feel this terrible cold racking his body as a shivering fever, but a pleasant feeling of twining through the clouds on a fresh Summer day with a boy who seemed to really care about him.
Ron.
"Damn," he hissed, "Damn you, Lucius. You miserable bastard."
As the two speeding brooms crested a small rise, flying smoothly now over the mist, Draco saw the great manor looming over them on the top of a jagged hill, the giant white moon sitting behind it as a floating silver medallion. The last of the sweet memory of Draco and Ron's first flight together melted away, replaced fully by the sight of this gruesome domicile. He yanked the broom to a jarring stop, Hermione knocking into him and hitting her chin painfully on his jutting shoulder blade.
Harry pulled to a stop a little behind with Ginny, looking around inquisitively. "What is it?" he asked. Draco dismounted and on contact with the ground, instantly sunk ankle deep into a reeking bog. Hermione stepped off lightly behind him and Ginny pulled up her nightgown before splotching wetly down off the broom, Harry reaching out to steady her. Then his wide green eyes turned and looked hard at Draco and he seemed ready to yell when the blonde turned his face up to the sky and breathed distantly, slipping his eyes shut, "You don't see it, do you? This could really prove to be a hassle." He hugged himself as if cold and bowed his head. Automatically the others made their way closer, dragging their feet wetly through the protesting muck. But the pewter eyes snapped open and he said flatly to no one in particular, "I need something sharp. The only chance we have to get in is if you are able to *see*." They must've looked confused because Draco then reached forward and nimbly plucked a hairpin out of Ginny's hair, allowing a loose curl of fire down her pale cheek. "In other words," he continued ruefully, "you need some of my blood. *Malfoy* blood." Next he took the sharp edge of the pin and started dragging it harshly over his sensitive skin on the underline of his arm. A thin line of blood seeped into view and Harry lunged forward, grabbing Draco's hands and wrenching the pin from the smaller boy's grip.
"What in bloody hell do you think you're doing," he screeched, having pinned the stony faced Draco against the gnarled trunk of a tree and holding his hands firmly above the blonde head. Draco was livid and began to struggle.
"Are you mad?" he hissed.
Harry snorted, "You're asking *me* this?"
"Don't you understand! You need my blood to see the mansion."
Ginny frowned, eyeing the still oozing cut marring the pale skin. "Like Hogwarts," she mused. "If it means getting Ron any quicker..... but don't go mutilating yourself! Isn't there a -
*cleaner* - route to take?"
Draco stared at her blankly for several moments before looking slowly back to his arm which was arched up above his head from Harry's firm hold. Hermione, clucking and tutting like a dead ringer for Madam Pomfrey, moved her wand over his wound, sealing it up. He gazed at it numbly while Ginny and Hermione both fussed over him mercilessly, each bickering over a plan of action. The redhead was ranting on about nonsense and Hermione was trying desperately to analyze the situation sensibly. Then they turned on Harry and squalled at him loudly for just standing there like a louse and gawking.
A few minutes past with Draco much enjoying himself. Golden Boy getting lectured while *he* was petted and pampered. Then the more mature and practical side of Draco Malfoy took control and he decided that it was certainly over due time to go. So he asked what way they thought he could get his blood.
"I'll have to somehow cut myself," he said logically, "Then you can just pick a scab or something. Otherwise you'll be destroyed once our boundary spells track you. My blood will be an authorization by one of the Malfoy house. Lucius would always carry around a vile of blood with him for unexpected visitors and the like. It's that or you'll be killed on the spot." Draco slumped down next to the tree and looked up at the three Gryffindors. What company I keep in this quaint little group, he thought sardonically, Harry Potter, the hero of Gryffindor and a God to the whole blasted wizarding world; Hermione Granger, muggle-born genius and Head Girl; Ginny, the best chaser Hogwarts' seen in years. And then there was him: Draco Malfoy. Need I say more?
Hermione plopped down beside him and gave him a long searching look. Then she smiled sadly and said rather out of the blue; "You're not so terrible, Draco Malfoy."
The mist clung to all their heads and wrapped around each individual hair. It ended up taming Hermione's wild frizz, much to her delight.
By the time Draco had convinced them that a little cut is all it would take, the moon had risen to rest atop the uppermost tower of the Manor, perched upon the tallest spire to its highest peak in the velvety black sky. Hermione was the one who performed the actual cutting, causing Draco less pain than he had deemed possible in such a case.
"Okay, all set. Ginny, I know you have that scab left on your knee from Crookshanks and if you pick that off, it should suffice. Correct?" Draco nodded solemnly, gripping his wrist to staunch the flow of blood somewhat. Ginny obediently ripped the clotted scab part way off, wincing, and let Draco press his wrist to the reopened wound. Next Hermione neatly made a small cut on her own wrist and pressed it firmly to Draco's. Last of all, Harry was inspecting himself for scabs, but found none. Then Ginny pointed out the gash he acquired from a perilously swinging Quidditch bat.
Instantly he flushed and glared hotly at her. Hermione rolled her eyes and said reasonably, "Harry, I don't want to open anyone else up." She smiled slyly. "If you want, Ginny and I won't look."
Harry made a face and whined, "But-"
"*BUTT* what Harry?"
"Oh!" He stomped over resolutely to a startled Draco and glared witheringly at the Slytherin, who started to look very coy indeed, guessing what was going on. Harry quickly pulled down his pj bottoms and pulled up his boxer leg, giving Draco a perfect view of half his left bum cheek upon which sat a nasty scratch scabbed over. "Alright, Malfoy," he managed through clenched teeth, "do it now before I change my mind." He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and tried not to bask in memories of such times as Draco's long fingered hand half cupped his bum, allowing the bleeding wrist to press to the flesh. "Well," he squeaked, "This is just bloody ducky!"
~*~
Bill Apparated into the kitchen, yawning widely. He glanced around, hearing only quiet, deciding that the teens were all fast asleep. Then he proceeded to laugh at himself at the very idea. "Don't be a blathering fool," he muttered and went upstairs.
Peeking in all the rooms, he found them empty. Not quite worried just yet, the oldest Weasly went back down the stairs and conjured himself up a nice cup of Chamomile tea. Sipping it gratefully, he opened the back door and stepped outside, kicking aside a nasty little gnome trying to bash his foot in with a makeshift club made out of a rotten beet.
"Ron?" Walking further into the garden, he looked around, still not quite yet worried. They were probably playing a joke on him, knowing them, the little rascals. "Don't tell me I just called my siblings and their friends 'rascals'!" he exclaimed. "Merlin, I'm turning into my dad already." Laughing, he slipped back inside, but not before calling one more time, "I'm not leaving until you guys decide to come out! I don't have time for this, Ronald!"
A copy of the Daily Prophet lay on the table and Bill scooped it up in one hand, still drinking the steaming tea. His eyes scanned over the text without much interest, his ears pricked for any noise other than the quiet slurps of his drink. Where can those brats be, he thought with amusement to himself, remembering when he had been that age.
"Not so long ago," he reminded himself firmly, tugging distractedly on his ponytail. Getting a bit fed up, he glanced at the clock.
Molly/Mum: Traveling
Arthur/Dad: Traveling
Bill: Home
Charlie: Work
Percy: Traveling
Fred: Trouble
George: Trouble
Ron: Mortal Peril
Ginny: Mortal Peril
He calmly went back to sipping his tea, humming to himself. "When did I start drinking Chamomile?" he asked himself aloud, staring at the cup. "Or talking to myself for that matter! Ha. Wait, stop!" Laughing, he sat down and conjured up a nice pasty for himself.
Suddenly his back went rigid and his blue eyes almost bugged out of their sockets. He leapt to his feet as if on fire, the cup hitting the floor and breaking into splinters, and threw himself at the clock, pressing his nose to the glass and fogging it up with his heavy breath.
"Shite!"
A/N: Ah, I just love ending my chappies with swear words. *sigh* Anyhooslers! So there you go then. That what you see above this message is the result of 105 degree heat! Oy, vacations scare me so. And I sincerely apologize if I messed up on the Weasley clocky thingy. Forgive me, I searched the books for the right readings - because I'm not quite sure if it's "mortal peril". *sob* I'm a failure!! *brightens up considerably* Next part might not be up so terribly soon due to school startage. Freshman!! AAURGH!! *faints dead away*
~*Villain*~