Chapter Sixteen
Voldemort smirked victoriously and glided over towards Midgen. He grasped her hands in his, raising it to his lips; a benediction. "My dear," he purred over her raised hand, his eyes boring into hers. "You have been an asset."
Midgen smiled without cheer. "I do what I have to."
Harry couldn't help it but he started to laugh, loudly. The hilarity of the situation was not lost to him, nor was its allusion to past indiscretions. The fact that he had been managed to be deceived not once, and not twice -- if you counted Draco of course, and he did -- but thrice! Isn't this just like me?! he thought with a laugh, his voice hollow. Tears threatened to prick at his eyes as he started to feel lightheaded.
Releasing Midgen's hand, Voldemort cast a disinterested eye on the other occupants. "You know your orders," he said to Midgen. "I expect--"
He was cut off as the body of Ron ran head on onto his own. Voldemort was pushed down, being cut fully unaware. Ron had recovered his senses quicker than he had been expected to and took full advantage of Voldemort's arrogance.
Voldemort roared at the insolence. With a yell, he cursed to redhead without a second's thought, leaving him writhing on the cell floor. As his got up from his spot on the floor, his eyes flash in anger. "Leave that one to me!" he thundered. He snapped around to glare at Ron. "You will not know what pain is until I am finished with you," he promised. Turning his head he nodded at Midgen. "Get what you can and dispose of them."
He whirled around, slapping a hand on the door to let the guard know he wanted to be let out. He slipped through, leaving with a long gait.
The door was not closed to let Midgen out as well. Obviously they were on the business end of an inside joke. Harry just wished this joke didn't have the potential to end up killing them. He stopped his madness before Midgen could leave. He lunged at her, his hands gripped the smooth fabric of her black robe, throwing her on the nearest wall. Her back met the cold stone with an empty thud but before he could anything more, something hit him in the back and he lost consciousness. The last thing he would remember would be those cold, hard eyes of Midgen's, devoid of all feeling.
"Oh god," Ron moaned, wincing in pain and wishing those lights would stop spinning. He ground and managed to get his body into fetal position. "What the hell hit me?"
Slowly, his vision started to clear and he could make out the faint outlines of the tiny cell he was in. Along with his sight, his memory started to return as well. "Bloody hell!" he cursed. "That fucking bitch!" He sprung up into a sitting position, trying to ignore the protestations of his body and willing the dizziness to stop. He held his head in his hands as things, including the roaring in his head started to calm down and with reluctance, he lifted his aching head to glimpse at his surroundings.
It was same old, cold, empty cell, but something was missing... He couldn't put his finger on it but...
"Potter's gone," a voice intoned listlessly.
Ron turned around to see the hunched figure of Draco Malfoy staring at him.
"Fuck," Ron said under his breath when he realized Malfoy was right. Harry was gone. A growing sense of foreboding filled him as realized he was alone in the cell. And with Malfoy, his traitorous mind reminded him. He would have much rather not have remembered that fact.
"What the hell was that?" Ron demanded, waving wildly towards the door. "I thought she was bloody loyal to you!"
Malfoy didn't answer, his dull eyes staring at him.
Ron cursed again, but it seemed like he was doing that a lot lately. "I knew there was something wrong with her the moment I set eyes with her! Never trust a Death Eater, how could I be so bloody stupid!" he spat the last part, disgusted at himself for ignoring his feelings and above all, his common sense.
"I was a Death Eater," Malfoy reminded him softly, still in that toneless voice. He still hadn't moved from his spot.
"Don't remind me," Ron grumbled, getting to his feet. "Wing it!" he scoffed. "We never should have trusted her featherbrain ideas, that...two-timing..." He was so enraged that nothing could come to mind that was even the least bit descriptive as to what he was feeling.
Thankfully, Draco kept silent. Ron could think of only a few things that he hated more than the sound of Draco Malfoy. Except maybe for Malfoy himself, he thought. He knew he was being petty. His wife had always told him to let go of old grudges, but it was just hard. There were times where his hate was the only thing keeping him afloat, where there seemed to be nothing to him but just a man wracked with fury. And as he was hating Draco Malfoy, Ron couldn't help but feel he was entitled. After what that boy did to him -- or will do in terms of the Malfoy sitting in front of him -- just a little animosity was the least he should be allowed.
Ron scowled. But it would be more fun if Malfoy had been himself, he conceded. There was just something about pestering a twelve year old child that seemed to spoil his mood which made him feel even more upset. He should be having a field day. For once in his life the tables were turned and he, Ronald Weasley had a step up from the rich, spoiled Draco Malfoy. He was now smarter, older, wiser. He snorted, And mostly likely a more varied repertoire of spells.
But still, he didn't get that rush of superiority that he had hoped to feel. And the fact that they were stuck in a Dark Lord stronghold was a major damper on his feelings. Somehow he couldn't feel good about himself. If any, he felt worse. That and frustrated, he thought of his attempts to hurt Malfoy verbally as Malfoy had once did to him regularly.
And though he knew what he was doing was in nobody's best interests, least of all his, he still shouldn't help it. The animosity between Malfoy and him was just too deeply ingrained. It's been too long and things can not change after so many years of hate. Life didn't work that way.
Ron took a look around the cell, even though he knew he would be nothing new except for the body of Malfoy. He was looking at him, staring almost in expectancy if he didn't know better.
"What?" he asked irritably. This day was certainly not ending up as he had hoped.
"Aren't you going to do something?"
Ron looked at Malfoy deadpanned. "I don't know. What do you expect me to do?"
Malfoy shrugged. "Shouldn't you have a clue? Save Potter and all that -- most importantly get me out of here before that woman comes back and we get separated?"
"Now why wouldn't I want that to happen?" Ron asked himself softly, thinking half-seriously that that might not be such a bad thing to happen.
"Because it's what you do," Malfoy informed him bluntly. "Come charging in like white knights, saving people in distress." He looked down on himself and looked back up. "I think this would count as a distressing situation."
"Really?" Ron drawled, rubbing at a sore spot on his back. "I wouldn't have noticed."
The blonde boy glared at him with a barely concealed annoyance and Ron felt a sense of nostalgia. How many times when they were in school did he glare the same glare? The glare that almost always managed to either make him enraged or shudder? He seriously couldn't remember, but it had been a while since he had last seen that glare.
When they graduated, almost everyone in their year went their own way. Of course, the three of them -- Hermione, Harry and himself -- had stayed more or less together. Malfoy did his disappearing act and everyone had speculated that he had been fully ensnared in Death Eater activities, terrorizing people, murder and mayhem and the like, but there were no mention of his participation in any of the major attacks or offensive moments of the Dark Lord during the years that he was away.
Now knowing he was the Grey Dragon, something that made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach, Ron knew for certain that the Gregon was in London for at least part of the first year he was away as he had been sighted trice there. There had been talk of him even being in the Americas for a while as well as Africa for a bit as well, but it was hard to be certain.
While he was doing good in the world, did that mean he was also doing bad? Now that was the question he wasn't sure he would like to have answered. Not that it make a difference anyway, he thought. His admiration of the Gregon had been severely checked since finding out his real identity.
"Did you manage to find that secret escape of yours?" Ron asked, not knowing what else to do, short of nothing.
"No, but I haven't finished." Malfoy's told of voice was a bit harsh as though he was telling Ron not to judge him just yet.
"Why don't you keep looking?" Ron suggested, thinking of this as a good way to get rid of him for a bit and give him some breathing room.
"Why don't you help?"
"Do you always answer a question with a question?"
"Do you?" Malfoy smirked. "I seem to remember you doing it a few times as well."
Ron closed his eyes and calmed himself down, telling himself that Dumbledore, not to mention Harry would have his hide if he strangled the annoying git. And it wouldn't even be that hard. He had seen from his position on the ground when Malfoy was attacking You-Know-Who. His movements were awkward and thought spirited, unsure. He was a twelve year olds brain in a twenty seven year old body and he didn't know what it was capable of, much less how to use it. He could over take him. Over the years, he had filled out nicely and Malfoy wouldn't know what would hit him. Ron sighed. As much he would have liked to, he was afraid he wasn't allowed.
"What am I looking for?" he asked resigned. They were getting nowhere and loosing time while they were getting nowhere. As much as he disliked Malfoy, he loved his best friend even more and god only knew what was happening to him. As far as he was concerned, he was doing a necessary evil by getting along with Malfoy, even if only for a short while.
"An indentation or anything that is out of the ordinary. Maybe something that can be a trigger." Malfoy turned, running his hand over the rocks.
Ron looked the wall up and down skeptically, his gut instinct telling him this was an exercise futility, but still he acquiesced anyway. Something's better than nothing, he supposed.
He reach out for the cold hard stone, his fingers searching for anything that was out of place, wishing that he still had his wand. One little revealing spell could make all the difference.
After twenty minutes and a wall later, they still hadn't had found anything of note. Surprisingly, Malfoy was patient and just kept diligently working at the stone, searching for the one spot he wasn't even sure was even there. He would have thought the spoilt little brat would have been complaining at the lack of success by now. Certainly, this Malfoy was one he had never met before.
He himself was getting a bit impatient and he wasn't afraid to admit it to himself. Here he was, patting a wall down of all things while who knows what was being done to his best friend. The passiveness of it all didn't sit well with him but he didn't want to seem like a child by complaining about it first, especially while Malfoy was stubbornly silent.
Still, he couldn't manage to cold in a tired sigh, that one little out take of air expressing all the helplessness, the inability and the uselessness that he felt. The dark wall in front of him seemed to be blurring in front of his eyes, each stone the same as the last. He was beginning to think that maybe this was one outcome the Gregon didn't provide for.
"Nothing here," Ron said suddenly, filling in the silence. Most of the time silence would a be welcomed state when he was left alone with Malfoy, but this time, it seemed as though if it wasn't breached, it would be endless.
Malfoy ignored him, the simple gesture annoying him even though he knew it shouldn't.
"Did you hear me?" he asked more loudly. "I said, there's nothing here."
For a moment Malfoy stiffened and for a moment Ron thought he might turn to acknowledge him but instead Malfoy's shoulder's relaxed and he set about searching again for that little trigger he didn't even know existed.
The blonde boy's actions were beginning to perplex him, that Ron could deny. This wasn't the Malfoy he knew. What the hell happened to the Malfoy I knew? he thought, half mad that this boy in front of him wasn't the boy he had known. And it didn't even make sense since the boy he had known was from where this boy right here was from so they should have been the same. Yet they weren't.
His silence and blatant disregard of him was starting to annoy him but when hasn't Malfoy annoyed him? From that very first day where Malfoy made fun of him and his family to the present, he could think of not one moment where this blonde boy had invoked any feelings other than malice, hate, disapproval or annoyance. He was just that type of guy you just loved to hate -- and he knew no one on this earth if they had even known Malfoy for even a second would contradict his thoughts.
Which was why he found it so hard to reconcile the Grey Dragon and this...this...this Death Eater. The Gregon was a lovable guy whom everyone adored, smooth talking, quick on his feet, more courageous than a Gryffindor, more loyal than a Hufflepuff, smart as a Ravenclaw and so sly that it would make a Slytherin turn away in shame in comparison. That was who the Grey Dragon was. He wasn't Malfoy.
Looking at him now, Ron couldn't see any of the qualities he had come to associate with the legendary spy. Instead of an untainted hero he had always thought of, Malfoy was a murderer, bringer of evil, notorious for his inventive tortures and inventive attacks. This was the man who after You-Know-Who, would be considered the most dangerous -- and powerful, he wouldn't be so dangerous if he wasn't -- in the world. In some ways even more so than You-Know-Who since he was young, new and as ruthless. There was also the fact that Draco Malfoy seemed more of less sane, which was more than could be said of the Dark Lord.
"Are you sure of this escape?" Ron asked absent-mindedly, his mind wandering from his earlier annoyance to the conundrum that was Malfoy. Was he good? Was he evil? He was tempted to scream "Evil, evil, EVIL!" based on his thoughts of Draco Malfoy but when he took in count of the Gregon, he was more confused than ever. To him the Gregon seemed more a legendary figure, of an irreproachable hero than the Boy Who Lived. He knew how many in the Wizarding World saw Harry; he once seen him the very same way growing up with the tales of the great Boy Who Lived who had been the undoing of the Dark Lord.
But now... Now Harry was a friend -- his best friend. Together, they have been through more things and more near misses than he could count. Harry was his buddy, the guy he could count on being there for him. Harry Potter stopped being the Boy Who Lived before even their first year ended. He was always aware of it, he couldn't deny that but Harry wasn't that great. He held considerable power though and that was what Ron craved the most. Harry himself was just another boy.
Without a nice, distant, unapproachable person to believe in, he gravitated towards the Grey Dragon almost immediately after the first stories started trickling, a new person to fill in the HERO void within him because it was like he told Harry, everyone needed someone to believe in.
Now to find out this great man whom he'd always admired for over a decade was Malfoy. The thought of it made his insides twist and his lips to curl in disgust. It just wasn't possible.
"No," Draco's curt and clipped voice finally answered him. "I've already told you that."
Ron frowned at his tone of voice. He stopped his searched and sat back. "Then I can't see why we are wasting valuable time trying to look for something you don't even know exists."
"Then don't," Draco suggested helpfully, his voice deceptive. He turned his body so he could look at Ron. "You can do whatever it is that you think is more productive with that invisible wand of yours. And while you're at it, you can get me out of this mess and my memory back. Or maybe You-Know-Who can come and let us out himself!"
Maybe it was because of all the setbacks of the night or maybe it was because he was so bruised and this limbs tired that the petty taunts didn't seem to register with him for the first time in all the years he had known Malfoy. Whatever it was, the feeling, or the lack of one, was starting to scare him.
"I just don't think this is any help to Harry."
"Forget Harry then." Before Malfoy knew it, he was scrambling away from an enraged Ron.
"Don't you ever say that! Harry's the bloody reason why were here in the first place, rescuing your sorry arse! We are not leaving him!"
Despite the threat to his body, Malfoy smirked. "What? The Weasel overlooking a way to get the oh-so wonderful Boy-Who-Lived off his cloud?"
Ron shook with barely held in anger. "What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Talking. About?"
With a raised eyebrow, Malfoy look Ron in the eye. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it; not even once," he asked seductively.
'Thought about what?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about what Malfoy asked of him or why he should even care.
Malfoy grinned as though he had a very important secret to bestow to him. "This could be your chance, you know. Instead of rescuing Potter, we could slip out and forget about him. It's be easier that way. And if I am who you say, you'll be the one remembered as the one who rescued the Grey Dragon. With Potter out of the way, who knows what you could do? No more living in the Boy Who Lived's shadow. Nice thought, isn't it?"
Falling silent, Ron narrowed his eyes to stare at Malfoy, wondering what he was getting at. His body went cold as he heard Malfoy's well delivered suggestion.
When he saw that Ron was neither denying or approving of his idea, Draco thought about making it a bit easier for the other man. Or harder, he thought as he reach out a hand, searching for that spot he had found just as Weasley started to annoy him.
With a rumble and swoosh as small opening appeared to the right of Draco. It was situated on the floor, about two feet in length and a foot and a half at width; just large enough for a man to side through.
He had turned to look at the opening when it had first opened, glad that his instincts were right and Draco turned back to look back at Ron. "So?" he prompted. "Are we going to leave?"
Ron kept his facial expression purposefully blank but inside he wasn't as calm as he projected. He knew he didn't want to leave Harry; he was sure of that. But he was also knew that he wanted to live and Malfoy was offering him the best chance to achieve that. As much as he hated to admit it, trying to rescue Harry when they didn't know where he was being kept or they were even going to get there would greatly put them at risk and would probably end in death. They weren't exactly the great catch -- Harry was that.
And he would be lying if the thought of being out of the Boy Who Lived's limelight wasn't even a bit tempting. Ron licked his lips and hoped he wasn't making the wrong decision.
"No."
Well, he'll be damned. As soon as he had delivered his decision, the blonde brat started laughing. Ron couldn't quite hide the shock on his face.
It wasn't malicious laughter or taunting. It seemed to be just mirth which baffled Ron even more. He failed to see any hilarity in the situation. Malfoy just tried to conspire with him to betray his best friend and after he refuted the offer, Malfoy starts...laughing? "What is so bloody funny?" he growled.
Malfoy lifted his head, the limp strands of his hair falling around him and chortled a bit more. "I guess Potter's rubbed off on you. Pity."
He still couldn't see what was so funny in it but he guessed it would probably be just another one of those things about Draco Malfoy he would never understand. "Why?"
"I could see your eyes. You wanted it. Without Potter's influence, you probably would have taken it."
"Without Harry, it wouldn't even matter."
"True," Malfoy agreed, stunning Ron.
This must be a new one. Malfoy actually agreeing with something I said.
"But tell me, didn't the thought of saving your own skin cross your mind?"
The way he phrased it, with that smug knowing tone of his told him that even without Ron's admission, he wouldn't have believed otherwise anyway. So instead of behaving as predicabe as he assumed Malfoy would expect him to, he turned on his own sly smile.
"Of course I did but if I had left Harry here to die, the whole Wizarding World would crucify me."
This time it was he who laughed.
Harry slowly regained consciousness, his heavy lidded eyes reluctantly opened as he tried to focus. He was strapped into a metal chair, but from the warmth emanating from it, he surmised that he had been there long enough to warm it up. He glanced around the room he was being held in. It was obvious that he had been moved from the cell since this room was not of rock and stone. The lighting was a giveaway as well as this one was lit up by electrical lighting which surprised him. This was a Death Eater installation, not a muggle holding facility.
His first coherent thought once he took full stock of his surroundings were of his companions, of Ron and Draco who where no where to be seen. Almost immediately worry started to set in as he wondered about their welfare and how they come out from their earlier tussle.
"I see you're awake," a voice from behind him commented.
Harry started and tried to turn his head so he could see the figure standing still behind him. He could tell from the voice who it was but he needed to see her with his own eyes.
"Midgen," he snarled, surprising himself at the vehemence in own voice. "Come to betray me even further?"
"I didn't betray you," she said innocently.
"Then what the hell would you call what you've just did?"
Slowly Midgen stepped into his field of vision, her face expressionless but it was something Harry was starting to see accustomed to seeing. "I call it my job."
Harry laughed caustically. "Hell of a job, Midgen. And here I thought you were loyal to Draco or was that an act as well?"
The corner of Midgen's mouth lifted up in a small half-smile. "No act. Just doing what's best for Draco, obviously something you aren't capable of."
"Best for Draco?" Harry fought the urge to scoff, instead opting for dry sarcasm. "How is death best for Draco?"
"Death?" There was true confusion in her voice as for a moment the blank mask fell and she was clearly baffled. "What are you talking about?"
Harry stared at the woman in disbelief. She's off her rocker, he thought with a jolt, surprised that he hadn't have thought of it before when it seemed to be so clearly evident with the way she was obsessed with Ron, the way she was overly protective and possessive of Draco. Harry was suddenly filled with a sense of pity for this woman. That was quickly curtailed of course as it was a bit hard to feel sympathy for a person who was in a position to kill you and had just betrayed you. "Are you that naive? What else would be in store for a proven spy?" Harry spat, his eyes fixed on the still figure of Midgen. Even now, looking at her in his vulnerable position, he felt nothing but abhorrence for the woman.
He narrowed his eyes as he was made aware of his own words. "Tell me," he asked, his voice even. "Why aren't you dead yet? I wouldn't have thought the great Dark Lord would have let a spy live."
Midgen smiled her half-smile again, looking as though she was privy to some information that only she held and was just about to dispense it to the rest of the unworthy world. "That would be so," she agreed, "had I been a spy."
He didn't know it was possible for his blood to burn even hotter than it had before. Back then there were a number of emotions flowing thought his body, embarrassment, anger, irony to name a few but the feeling he felt now at Midgen's easy admission eclipsed all of those. This time he felt affronted that Midgen, with her professed loyalty to Draco Malfoy had been nothing more than a snake. She was right, he thought with harsh hindsight, she would have made a great Slytherin.
"So this must be some coup for you, isn't it?" Harry taunted, knowing fully that Midgen held great anger within her. It was one of her follies; that and Ron but since the red head wasn't there to antagonize her, his efforts would just have to do. He just hoped that being Harry Potter and a Gryffindor was enough to start her up. "Potter, Weasley and the Gregon; how proud Voldemort must be."
"Oh he is." Midgen slide closer to Harry, her body's proximity making itself aware to Harry's. "I shalt be promoted for this, I believe." She smirked. "Take Malfoy's old job now that he...won't have need of it anymore."
He wanted to snort in disgust at the way she was talking about all so nonchalantly. "You really are a bitch."
Her hand snapped out and had grabbed a fistful of hair before he could even register it and snapped his head back, causing him to almost have backlash.
"You forget your place, Potter," she snarled, her face close. "You're the one tied up and I am the one that's not." She let go of his head abruptly and for a moment Harry thought he was safe but before he had a chance to recover, Midgen backhanded him, whipping his head to the side. "Don't you ever insult me again."
Harry turned his head slowly back to face her, his mouth set and this eyes hard. That girl packs a punch, he though in a daze. "What?" he taunted. "You've resorted to attacking defenseless, tied up people now? Can't hit one otherwise?"
Midgen's eyes flashed as Harry realized he was starting to get to her. He smirked, knowing it was the truth. "I hope this is worth it, Midgen."
Then, visibly Midgen straightened and the fire that had been awaken in her eyes died to a small flame. She smiled but there was nothing in it. "It is. It's the most important thing I will ever do."
Her serious, solemn words gave Harry pause as he tried to figure out what Midgen meant by that statement.
Midgen rounded the chair and stood in front of Harry. "So," she petitioned, her hands wide in a parody of indecision, "are you going to make this easy and tell me what I want to know?"
"What you want or the Dark Lord?" Harry threw right back, sending the ball to her court.
"Both. We--"
"Please," Harry interrupted. "don't say we can do this the hard way or the easy way. That is so overused."
Midgen glared, a tint of disgust leaking into her facial expression. "You don't even get it, do you Potter?" Without waiting for him to respond, she continued, "The great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived! You hold the key and I," she moved closer as punctuated every word, "Want. To. Know. What. It. Is."
"What exactly do you want to know?" Harry asked with no intention of actually answer her questions.
"Where are your operatives stationed? Where do you coordinate your attacks? How did the Gregon get his messages out to Dumbledore without out one of us alerted to it?"
Harry digested the questions and thought with laugh that he didn't know half of the things being asked. He may have been the Boy Who Lived, but he was a field agent more than anything else. He wasn't privy to that sort of information.
When Harry didn't answer, Midgen started to speak again, "I can make this very painful for you, I'm sure you know that."
Without fear or hesitation, Harry raised his head to look Midgen in the eyes, just so he could be sure that she understood him. "I understand and you know what? I'm not going to say a thing." He pursed his lips and turned his head away.
Making a sound of disappointment, Midgen took a step back and for the first time, Harry noticed the wand in her hand. She sighed and raised. "I hate it when they're difficult," she muttered, more to herself than anything. "One last chance to tell me what I want to know?"
Harry didn't answer, stubbornly keeping his mouth shut.
"I didn't think so. Crucio!"
"Malfoy? Sir?"
Hearing the hushed, urgency filled voice perked their ears and they scrambled up from their sitting position from the floor. They had spent the time tossing out occasional ideas of how to reunite with Harry and to escape but most of the time was spent in silence. Ron didn't know how to relate to twelve year old, much less a the twelve year old version of the person he considered one of the great evils of all time and Draco just didn't want to talk to Ron period, though the blonde had to admit he was starting to look at Ron in a new light.
He didn't think the red head had it in him, being the true Gryffindor through and through. Imagine his surprise when a little spark of Slytherin appeared. Is everyone exhibiting signs of Slytherin now? he wondered, thinking of the Hufflepuff who thought she was a Slytherin.
The two of them didn't answer the call, wary of this new person, whomever he may be. They could never be too careful.
"Sir?" the voice summoned again. The lock at the door jingled as it was clumsily unlocked. The door slowly opened, the person behind clearly trying to be quite and a familiar head poked through the when it was opened wide enough for a head to fit through. "Sir," Oscar breathed with relief. "You're still here. I was afraid that they might have moved you to a different holding cell or something."
Eventually, he got the entire door opened.
"You spineless twit!" Ron unconsciously used the phrase that Midgen had described Oscar as.
Oscar recoiled at the sudden attack.
Draco reached out and grabbed an arm of Ron's. At soon at Draco touched him, Ron's eyes was drawn to where their bodies met with horror. Malfoy...Touching...ME! he wailed in his mind, feeling totally affronted by this.
"Knock it off, Weasley," Draco commanded, letting go of the arm but Ron was still staring at the spot where Draco had touched him to hear him. Draco turned his attention to the newcomer. "Couldn't you have gotten here before...before Voldemort arrived?" Draco swallowed, hoping Oscar wouldn't comment on the small laspe. For a moment, he wasn't sure of what to call Voldemort. His gut reaction was to say the Dark Lord as he had always thought You-Know-Who was rather silly but he wasn't sure if he should call him that or if he should invoke his name.
Oscar didn't seem to notice much and if he did, he didn't dwell on it too long because he immediately launched into an apology. "I'm sorry sir. It couldn't be helped. The Dark Lord arrived a lot sooner than planned and I couldn't get away," he apologized profusely. "But I'm here now. Here," he handed them two wands.
"My wand!" Ron exclaimed, snatching it from Oscar. "I was afraid you had snapped it."
Draco took his wand too, the familiar feel of it causing him to feel a bit of normalcy. He eyed the piece of wood in Ron's hand. "When did you get a new wand?"
Fighting the urge to roll his eyes and failed, Ron retorted, "I'm not the penniless second year anymore." Ron caressed the smooth wood loving, remembering the day he bought the wand with his own money, his first real paycheck. From that moment on, the wand had never left his side; everything he had been through, the wand had too.
Oscar swallowed hard. "You'll have to go soon. The next round of guards will be coming this way soon."
"Why are you doing this?" Ron questioned suddenly, the words out of his mouth before he had a chance to think them through. "I know about your son, but why would you put yourself at risk?"
At the mention of his son, Oscar stiffened and the fidgeting stopped. A hard look seeped into his eyes as Ron saw something he recognized all too well. The man had the same look of him that he himself had sported during that grueling year when he no longer had any hope and all that consumed him was hate and grief and the thirst for revenge.
"For Matt," Oscar intoned. "Always for him."
The other man's behavior was starting to disturb Draco as he watched the eyes of Oscar go glassy. For a moment, he was unsure of what to do. "Uh...Where's Potter?"
Shaking himself, the semblance of light returned to his eyes. Oscar frowned, looking around for Harry, but not finding him. He licked his lips, and Draco felt a bit of foreboding at the simple, innocent act.
"Don't tell me you don't know where they've taken him," Ron demanded, dead-pan.
The fat man shrugged. He held out Harry's wand. "I have his wand," he said in hopes that would make up for his lack of knowledge. Ron glared at him while Draco stood off to the side, his head in thought.
"Midgen took him," Draco spoke up, hoping that would lead to some clue as to where Harry was being held.
Oscar swallowed. "If Midgen's taken him, then he'll be in one of the holding cells on the first floor. Most likely Room Four...She always liked it because...you know..."
Draco blinked. He had no clue as to what Oscar was talking about or what room he was talking about but he wasn't about to let him know that. Obviously he didn't know what sort of situation he was in. He's probably wasn't high enough, he reasoned. "Yeah," he agreed, thinking it was probably the best thing to say.
"You've got to go -- the guards--"
"Where are they by the way?" Ron asked suddenly as he realized that they had been without a patrol in a long while, a lot longer than what should be. "Shouldn't one have already gone by..." His words trailed off as he walked out of the cell and looked down the dark corridor. Even though the lack of light, he could make out the two bodies laying on the floor. "Are they...?"
Oscar nodded grimly.
Ron thankfully kept his mouth shut about it in light of all this. They were after all only Death Eaters; no doubt they have done something to deserve their fate. "Where's our cloaks?"
His eyes look away as Oscar frowned. "I don't have them any more."
"What?" Ron nearly screeched but caught himself in time. "What do you mean you don't have them any more? You were the last person to have them!"
Oscar took a deep breath to calm the jitters inside him. "I swear sir," he said, turning to Draco with a pleading looking in his eyes. "I couldn't help it. It was out of my hands."
Draco had no idea what they were talking about and kept silent and still. What's all this fuss about some clothes?
Now it was Ron who had to take a deep breath to calm himself. "I can't believe we're going to roam this place without the cloaks," he moaned.
"It can't be helped. Now go!" Oscar urged. "You've got to get out. I would help you with Potter, but I can't. This is all I can do for you." Oscar looked pleadingly at Draco. "And sir, I hope you win."
A/N: Lame! I am so lame and this story is so lame! Ugh... I hate disappointing myself like this... :( I'm bad... I said they would be escape and they weren't! I'm so sorry! ;( And this chapter is so short... :( Next chapter will most likely be short too... :( But I know for sure that that one would get them out of the Manor. I had just cut it off before that point... I have excuses though but I won't bore you all by making you all listen to them... I will try to get the next chapter out as soon as I can. Winter Vacation is only a hop, jump and a skip away afterall.
Tionne: You're back! I missed you in the last chapter! Draco will always be my perfect guy but since I think most people like to see him like that anyway, I think I'm getting away with it. I'm glad you liked some bits of the story... And I know there wasn't any H/D interaction, but maybe next chapter, I can push up the timetable. I know I've been promising it, but I'm getting there slowly... I'm not good at NC-17 I'm afraid (especially since I've never tired it before). That was not a cliffhanger! Okay, it was, but I hope this one wasn't... I used to be a big CH writer that I was invited to the CHA (Cliff Hangers Anonymous). I'm sorry you had to wait this long for this pathetic chapter. And it's more or less filler. LOL! You aren't by any chance born in November are you?
KT: Oh good, I'm glad chapter 14 was good... The numbers are a bit off since the first chapter is the prologue. This chapter is 16.
Tsuyuno: LOL! You'll see... LOL! They're getting to the point where they will get out. And the process isn't gradual. When the week ends, he'll be 27 just like that. It's only a few days and I'm planning on jumping a few hours. You're most likely in Japan, but I hope you have fun! And this chapter should have answered about Oscar.
WildfireFriendship: I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. And I'm very glad the twist at the end pleased somebody...
Youko Gingitsune: Don't worry, you aren't the only one. Hopefully it'll all make some sense at the end...
Moonchild: HI! Hermione knows she has to let Ron go. It'll be a lot messier if he tried to get Ron to stay home. Thank you so much for pointing that mistake out! I fixed it right after I saw your review. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Harry has always been a major figure in Draco's mind I think. LOL! I'm glad Voldemort was as typical as I could make him. I have problems making him sound terribly evil to the point where he is an ultimate evil. Again, I'm sad that this chapter is so bad that I made you wait all that time for this stupid thing... :( I'll make it up, promise! I swear one of these days I'll actually like a chapter.
A/N 2: Thanks to all the readers who reviewed and to all those who didn't. Much thanks to my beta, I've been neglecting her in these and let's see with this chapter can we hit the big 100. Review, even just to say it's good; I take almost anything and I would love you all for anything you can give me.
One last note. A few people have approached me with wanting updates and I was a bit leary about making a bit pronouncement because I know I personally don't like update lists... But if anyone really wants and update reminder (they're not much -- usually it's just the header) tell me and I'll add you to the list. With that, I'll end this.