Disclaimer: I own nothing!
Author's Note: Once again, I do not speak French. I am using a dictionary/translator on my computer, so I'm aware it won't be perfect. If you do speak French, I would like to apologize now for any slaughtering of the language I may have inadvertently caused. Otherwise, what do you care, right?
French translations: ((example))
To my darling reviewers: tkmoore, as always, you are a goddess! Kat Davi, sort of, it's always been the way I thought they would look! And you're too generous! My own sword!? (jumps with glee) Dracoluver2009, well, Harry does make an appearance in this chap! lol! kia, thanks! windpine, I hope this chapter did what you asked! If you have any other questions, don't hesitate to ask! Jo-Marie, trust me, I plan to keep going as long as you guys keep reading! seri-chan, I promise you at least that many chappies! And please desensitize yourself to Gryff-bashing, 'cause there's sure to be more! lol! Jan, (bows at thy feet) oh, and just 'cause he chooses not to expend that much of any sort of feeling towards her doesn't mean he likes her by any means! ladyize, (drools with you) thanks! short arse, thanks! White Tiger5, (ponders personal Dracos and Blaises, then promptly keels over and dies of wanting!) TarynMalfoy88, obsessions can be a good thing. I'm honored! xPlayer Haterx, thanks, I will! natalie, your wish shall be granted. Eventually. Probably soon. Maybe. lol! SamiJo06, no accusations, please! (runs and hides) Iced Faerie, I hope this cleared it up a bit! a.sam, another lovely review as always! Thanks! babykelyse, I love you too! I'm glad you liked the Quidditch! ColeForever16, you rock! I'm glad you dug it! Lillian-is-fickle, never fear, there shall always be Gryff bashing! And Hermione…Well, I guess you'll have to wait and see! Anonymous, thanks! Jen, thank you! OpalKoboi, I sincerely hope you meant 'weird' in a good way! lol! power of the stars, and I'm addicted to your reviews! Psi, and I love thee! cloaked, I do believe I have a new review queen to add to the top three! That was great, I loved your list! xxbabysparklesxx, thanks! aoi-yuki-yume, you, my friend, are awesome. Now, forward ho!
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Draco was not pleased as he removed his Quidditch pads. It was bad enough that they were about to have to fight one of the creatures that had imprisoned him and Blaise. His only nightmares stemmed from that experience, and he had hoped that he wouldn't have to face one of the Deep Lords again. There were only seven of them in total, and they ruled the demons of the Underworld, answering only to the Low Lord and the High Kings and Queens of the Dark Realm. To his knowledge, they couldn't really be killed, at least by nothing less then the hand of a god. A powerful god. Cocidius could do it if any of them could, but there were certain limits to how much He could help them.
He could heal them, of course, and could lead them through the Marks, but He couldn't come down and fight the Deep Lord for them. He could speak to them and draw them into Reverie as He had done after He Fell, but He couldn't bring them back from the dead again. So they were mostly on their own for this one. Or so Draco thought until the Mark on his arm flared to life, divine fury sweeping through him and filling his limbs with a strength he didn't usually possess. He felt at least ten feet tall as the energy kept coming and coming, and his swords were in his hands, the sheathes on his back, before he even realized it. A deep, familiar voice echoed within his mind, and devotion seeped through him.
'Fight, my Chosen! It is Bercarmerthmorurg that challenges thee! Thee must not let him pass, nor let him take thee! He wishes not for thy deaths, but for thy souls! Use the Book!'
Chills shot down Draco's spine. Bercarmerthmorurg. It was him, then. The one who had taken him and Blaise down into the Underworld at their fathers' behest. Fuck. He could still vividly remember the sting of the demons' whips and the stomach-turning sensations that their disgusting, burning tongues had caused as they had lapped the blood from his skin. He could still remember the feel of their tainted, twisted spirits trying to break into his mind, could still remember the torture their claws had inflicted, impaling him time and time again. But the worst had been seeing the same happening to Blaise, and the bastards had known that. Fear shot through him, and it wasn't until then that he realized the demon was trying to bespell him.
Because as much as he hated them, as much as he wished that he could slaughter each and every one of them, he no longer feared them. Maybe it was because of the time he had spent with them, seeing how craven and weak they truly were. Or maybe it was because he held no fear of death within his soul. But one way or the other, the demon had given itself away by sending fear instead of something else. Pushing back and fully closing his mind to the hideous thing, he felt a feral smile creep across his face. He was no longer the child he had been when this demon had last tasted of his flesh. Hell, his Elemental ability hadn't even been awakened yet, and it had been years after that that he'd taken the vampiric blood from Neithotep.
"Fan out in a semi-circle." He said, and Blaise and Virginia nodded, moving to the left of him as he went to the right. His shoulder still ached faintly from where someone had thrown something at him during the game, but the bone had healed before he'd even gotten the Snitch.
He watched Virginia as she moved, knowing that their god rode heavily inside her, as well. She stalked across the grass with grace to equal theirs, and his chest felt tight, almost suffocating. Why the hell did she have to be so stubborn? She hadn't even fought a lesser demon yet, but now she stood beside them, about to fight a Lord of the Deep. He couldn't think of anything he wanted more than for her to be as far away as possible. If she died…No, he wouldn't think about that. He had to keep his head clear. He just didn't want her to have to do this. Tomorrow was going to be horrible enough without this added to it.
Because tomorrow was when the official story of what had happened in Alexandria was going to hit the papers. His and Blaise's head lawyer, Satordi, had managed to secure a deal with the Auror Head, Carrick. The full story would be released without any pending lawsuits from the families, but they had had to hush it up for a week and give the Weasleys time to grieve outside of the public eye. Carrick hadn't been pleased, but most people shut up very quickly when Satordi mentioned the word 'lawsuit', and wisely so. Watching Blaise flip his braid over one shoulder, Draco gritted his teeth. He worried for him as well, but not nearly as much as he did for Virginia. He and Blaise had been fighting demons for three years, after all.
And at least they had some previous experience. She had none. The Mark on his arm tingled again, and a feeling of understanding flowed from it. Well, that's comforting, he thought dryly. Our god is as worried for her as we are. That's just perfect. As if hearing his thoughts, the Mark pulsed in what he was almost sure was a sarcastic way. Seconds later, twin swords appeared in Virginia's hands, surprising all three of them. Draco had only been moments from giving her one of his, as had Blaise, but there didn't seem to be a need to anymore. The swords gave of the same energy that theirs did, old magick worked into the blades.
They were beautiful, the hilts made of ebentine and platinum and the blades of an unearthly, fiery steel that was the color of freshly spilt blood. The hilt of one sword was the same as his were, a fierce dragon, and the other matched Blaise's, shaped into the hooded figure of Death. She stared at them for a moment, before looking up at him with wide eyes. He smiled slightly, and her eyes shot to Blaise, then returned to the swords. She twirled one in her hand, the setting sun flashing off of the blade and sending small beams of fading light across her stunning features. Had he ever encountered a creature as splendid as she?
Blaise didn't count, of course, but her beauty rivaled even his, which was something Draco had thought impossible for a very long time. Until she came. She was like a bright spot amid all of their darkness, but one that welcomed that part of them instead of shunning it. She had become their hope, another reason besides each other to continue drawing breath each morning. She understood them, and she didn't try to change them. Not even in the small ways that their other friends and even their mothers did. So how could they not cherish her? How could they not desire to protect her in any way that they could? It was inconceivable.
But somehow, they had failed. Because here she was, about to face an evil beyond what she could even begin to imagine. Nothing resembling anything good lay within the creature that was currently pounding the wards into dust. The screaming fools that were trying to flee had no idea that their shrieks of fear were quite literally food for the demon, had no idea that their terror was what was giving it the strength to break through the infamous shields. He knew there wasn't any way to shut them up, though, so he didn't even try. They were beyond listening to anything anyway, driven by instincts and instincts alone. It just happened to be the instinct to run. Sheep, he though idly, his eyes tracking the demon's progress.
'You have the Book, yes?' He asked Blaise through their open Marks, and saw a humorless smile grace his lover's face.
'Oui.' Blaise replied, holding out a hand and calling the Book in with a series of passwords and incantations. Their three, melded shields that surrounded it melted away under his touch, and the Book opened on its own, the pages turning and fluttering rapidly. Another twinge of divinity raced through them, and the pages settled. Blaise cocked an elegant eyebrow at what he read, before smirking. ((Yes))
'Will it help us?' Virginia questioned, her pupils splitting as she called on Cocidius's gift of shapeshifting. He had granted her what she would have otherwise never have possessed. Mixing a bit of Draco and a bit of Blaise, He had given her the talent that they had been born with the day He had Marked them. And with the Marks open, she shared their bloodlust as well.
'Yes.' Blaise hissed, his voice full of satisfaction. 'But whichever of us does it will need a circle and at least ten minutes, maybe even twenty.'
'Go then.' Draco replied, moving forward as another hit upon the wards had the earth shaking under their feet. 'It will be in within a minute. Get back and get the circle up. Virginia, guard him. I'll distract it.' She shot him an uneasy look, as did Blaise, and he glared back at them. 'Go, damn you!'
They did. Both flew towards him, whispering 'Je t'aime' and kissing him desperately, before they sped back across the field, their movements almost blurred even to his eyes. They stopped before the group of stock-still Slytherins, and Blaise sat immediately, putting both palms on the open pages of the Book and letting his eyes fall closed. Virginia pressed her lips against his, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, before moving back and pressing one of her swords' tips into the snow. Moving quickly, words of power and protection spilling from her rosy lips, she began tracing a circle upon the ground, magic flowing from the blade and into the soil.
Another deafening crash came from in front of him, and he forced himself to rip his eyes away from his lovers. The Deep Lord towered over him, still a good twenty yards away, and its eyes flashed hungrily as their gazes met. It lifted a huge, clawed hand and waved, its flaming lips pulling back to expose row upon row of deadly teeth dripping deadlier venom. He supposed that the thing meant for it to be a smile, but it was simply hideous in his opinion, and much more like a grimace. Hell's fires burned within its bottomless eyes, and the screams of the eternally tormented rang within its roars. It held its long, trademark whip within one fist, and a ball of darkfire in the other.
Two can play at that game, he thought to himself, and let his own darkness race down his blades. Throwing a sight shield around himself, since surprise was always an excellent weapon, he made it to where none of the watching students or the demon could see his rising power. The blades' magic mixed with his easily, naturally, and they burst into black and silver flames. As the demon's fist came down again, nearly toppling the shield, Draco threw open the well to his Elemental magic, letting it surround him in a bright cocoon of freezing ice and ferocious power. The snow all along the ground responded to him immediately, flying up and whipping around him, caressing his skin as a lover would and steadying his soul.
It moved and twisted around his feet, giving him the best footholds and traction that it could as he began moving more to the right, away from his two lovers. They could see him moving, but he knew that he still looked like his normal self because of the sight shield. He sensed the circle go up behind him and breathed a short sigh of relief. That much was done, and the timer started. He felt his power continue to grow as a frosty blue tint spread across his skin, right before silver light burst forth from it, causing him to shine like a landed mercury star in the deepening darkness. The sun was almost completely gone, and the vampiric essence inside his spirit became more pronounced as it continued sinking beyond the horizon.
The demon hit the shield again, and he knew it would only take one more hit, two at max. Sending a short prayer down the link in his Mark, he fell into a crouching position, everything but the coming battle fading from his consciousness. Another 'BOOM' rent the air and the wards finally crumbled, falling around him like a shower of sunshine. The Deep Lord roared in triumph, leaping onto the pitch and landing hard, nearly knocking Draco off his feet as the ground shook much worse than before. It mimicked his crouching position, staring at him with burning red eyes as its forked tongue flashed out, licking its nearly nonexistent lips. Its spittle hissed and steamed as it came into contact with its rough, scaly flesh, and a trail of poison leaked out of the corner of its mouth, falling upon the snow with a 'splat' and eating it like acid. It didn't stop at the snow, either, but continued eating through the ground.
"Ssso we meet again, young Malfoy." It said in a sibilant voice that was underlain with the cries of the damned as heavily as its roar had been.
"Yes, Bercarmerthmorurg. What business have you here?" He questioned, and a thought had the snow under his feet hardening, preparing it so he could spring when necessary.
"Name me not, little puppet of godsss!" It thundered, fire streaming from its nostrils. "And my busssinessss is with thee and thine."
"What could you possibly want with us?" Draco inquired, although he already knew at least one of the reasons. "And call me not a puppet; you slave for others far more than I do or ever shall."
"Liesss!" The demon yelled, its mouth beginning to froth. "I ssslave for no one! But thee ssshall ssslave for me."
"I wasn't aware that you'd become delusional with old age, Bercarmerthmorurg. Because if either of us ever slaves for the other, it will be you for me." Draco said flippantly, not allowing his eyes to stray to his lovers as they very much wished to do. All of his attention, all of his senses, were completely trained on the Deep Lord that was glaring death at him.
"Thee hasss nothing worth that much to me, Black Healer." It said, flexing a clawed hand threateningly.
"Don't I?" Draco drawled, cursing the fact that their voices were carrying so well over the pitch. The screaming had finally stopped, he knew that much. But he couldn't risk turning to see why; he just knew that the students were all still there, staying eerily silent.
"No!" It exclaimed, moving subtly closer. Draco retreated the same amount, showing the demon that he had caught the movement. He knew that he had to keep it talking for a few more moments, which shouldn't prove too difficult. One of a demon's weaknesses is that they love to hear themselves speak, especially if they're bragging or insulting. It probably had something to do with their innate fearlessness. The only things that usually brought them true terror were the Dark Royals, so why should they worry about drawn-out conversations?
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yesss. Thee are not truly any different than the ssscared little clussster of humansss that cowersss behind thee and waitsss for thee to die."
"Funny." He replied, smirking. "I was told that a bare taste of mine and my boyfriend's blood as children had you in ecstatic fits, O Mighty One!" He taunted, moving ever more to the right. The demon snarled.
"Thy blood may have been exccceptionally tasssty, but not enough for me to do thee any favorsss for more." It said, moving closer once again. "Thee hasss not enough power to tempt me. No earth-walker hasss in millennia."
"And if I did?" He asked, pleased that the demon was falling smoothly into his rapidly planned trap. He had an idea, but it had to go off without a hitch.
"I am here under contract, dark one, and being paid a handsssome priccce. Nothing of thine can sssway me."
"So be it. Your words are acknowledged and remembered by earth, sky and those who rule you." Draco replied, tying it to its statement.
The first look of wariness crept into its eyes, but Draco waited no longer. Calling on a controlled stream of energy, he pushed out with it and blew the sight shield into pieces, power bursting outwards from him like an explosion. The silver glow he was bathed in was bright enough to blind, as were the shards of ice and the swirling, gleaming snow that surrounded him in a fierce whirlwind. Darkfire licked along the edges of his extended aura, and his swords were the same mix of silver energy and black, freezing flames. The screams had started again, and the demon actually stumbled backwards a bit, its crimson eyes growing wide with disbelief as its nostrils flared.
"It cannot be!" The Deep Lord bellowed, jumping to its feet much more quickly than one would assume something its size could move. "Thee smellsss of the Firssst Born!"
"I am First Born." Draco snapped, the words coming straight from his Mark, not from his mind. The Mark flashed in reply, its light bright enough to shine through even his. The demon's eyes narrowed, as if remembering and regretting its earlier, binding statement, while Draco's mind was spinning, completely thrown off track by what had just escaped his lips. First Born? How? "Do you deny my claim, Lord of the Deep?" He asked, his lips once more moving of their own accord.
"Nay." The demon replied, its tongue flicking out as if tasting his scent. "But it can change nothing sssince thy have bound me by my word, iccce princcce."
"How sad. I'm told my blood is quite sweet." He teased, watching the drool flow faster from between its lips.
"No wonder Lord Cocccidiusss hasss sssuch an interessst in thee three." Its eyes narrowed again. "Ssspeaking of which, where might your little loversss b-"
That was his cue. Letting it speak no more, he attacked. Holding both swords out, he let power collect in his hands before sending it shooting down the blades. The demon, surprised, dodged one of the energy balls, but got hit with three others. They slammed into its right side and it howled, clawing at its chest. The energy began spreading, covering the demon's flesh in a thick layer of ice that melted against its always-burning skin much too slowly for its liking. Not giving it a chance to recover, he kept sending power through his swords, continuing his rightward path. The demon spun with him, snarling furiously, as more and more of the frosty balls attached to its skin.
"Thy cannot kill me, foolisssh child!" It screamed, and Draco laughed.
"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but I can certainly defeat you!" Which was possibly true. The only wizards and witches known to have fought and defeated a higher demon were the Elementals, the White Wanderers and the Dark Lords. He had a better chance than most, at any rate.
With another earsplitting roar, the creature spun again, showing its back, and moved to the other side of the field. Its lips moved swiftly, calling forth its first fighter. Dueling a Deep Lord was not the same as any other creature; because they didn't fight you themselves until you had beaten four of their minions. They did it that way because even if you survived, you would be so worn out that it would be an easy win for the damned thing. Thanking Cocidius profusely for his stamina, he readied himself for whatever would be sent after him first. A small portal opened in midair, growing quickly, and a large figure slid through. When Draco recognized it, he rolled his eyes.
The demon must have had a really bad memory if it thought a yeti was going to be a problem for him. Honestly. Slightly insulted, he didn't even move as the tall creature lumbered towards him. It was dangerous enough to normal witches and wizards, as it was quite ferocious and loved the taste of human flesh. It stood nearly nine feet tall, and was nearly as thick around as a tree. It resembled an ape, and it was one of the biggest problems the Ministry had with the regulation of magical creatures. One was always being sighted by some muggle or another, and they had some ridiculous name for it. It kept coming towards him, slowly and slightly bent over, but he knew it could move much faster.
"Can I keep the fur?" He called to the demon, sincerely curious since they were quite rare. Yeti fur was as smooth as silk once it had been cleaned, and was impervious to stains, which made it highly prized. Most people couldn't get close enough to kill one however, and he and Blaise had only hunted the monsters twice. Which is how he knew that it wouldn't be too hard to slay the stupid thing.
"If thee can kill it." The demon agreed, its tone almost comforting, but Draco saw right through it. At least the yeti made sense now. It was just a test. Or so he hoped. Slightly more enthusiastic since he could keep the fur, he moved to meet the creature.
"Oi, stupid!" He called, and the yeti lifted its shaggy black head. Beady eyes that reminded him vaguely of a shark's latched onto him, and Draco dampened the flow of power leaking from his skin. There was no need to keep such an open link for a creature the likes of which he had killed before his third year. "Come on boy, you can make it. I promise not to draw your death out too long."
The creature appeared to understand the meaning of his jeering words, at least, and its speed picked up. It rushed him in a charge of blind fury, and he stepped nimbly to the side, kicking it in the lower back as it sped past him. It fell face first in the snow, grunting and getting back to its feet slowly. Too slowly. His left blade slashed out just as its face lifted, and he took out the eye closest to him, not wanting to damage its fur. The creature howled as its eye popped, and thick, foul fluids ran down both his blade and its face. Dancing agilely backwards, Draco wiped the filth from his sword in the snow, idly watching the darkfire lick at the small, crystalline flakes.
The creature was still screaming, and quickly getting bored, Draco sat down upon the snow, stretching out his legs. Noticing a scuff on his boots, he buffed it off with the end of his Quidditch robes, and pondered over the fact that this wasn't nearly as dangerous, life threatening or exciting as he had originally thought. Remembering his comment to that stupid bicorn a couple of weeks back, he smirked. Yes, perhaps the Deep Lords weren't as fearsome as they'd thought. The creature finally stopped its insufferable screeching, and charged towards him again. Its aim was off because of lost depth perception, but he could have easily avoided it anyway.
Very nearly yawning, he blocked its swinging fist, twisting around and taking its legs out. Looking down at it, he rolled his eyes again at the too-easy kill and backed off, letting it regain its feet. He figured he might as well let it have one more go before finishing it. It would put a little more time towards Blaise finishing the spell, at any rate. The creature, quite typically, charged him again, and he, thoroughly disgusted with such an unworthy opponent, decided to grant the large, moronic beast a favor and give it a swift death. Still not wanting to damage the fur, he twisted and leaped as it drew even with him, quickly sheathing his swords and putting a pale hand on each side of its head as he perched upon its back. Then, with one quick, forceful yank, he broke its neck like a piece of kindling.
"Please tell me that the next…thing you dredge up will be a bit more challenging." He called out to the Deep Lord, landing on his feet again and vanishing the yeti's body so that the treacherous demon couldn't steal it back simply because Draco wanted it.
"Oh yessss." It hissed. "The next ssshould be quite a challenge, child of godsss." It stressed the last part, and the first twinge of worry appeared in Draco's icy mental shield. By naming him a descendent of a god, and therefore a descendent of that god's entire bloodline, the demon upped the stakes. He had a creeping feeling that he would not be fighting three more consecutive foes. And probably not only three. Wonderful.
The portal opened again, and seven figures poured out that time. But these were not mere yeti. They were his mortal enemies. Werewolves. The vampire in him leapt to the forefront, a deep-seated, primal rage engulfing his entire being. His fangs grew to longer, sharper proportions then they did when he was simply feeding, and claws sprung from his fingers instantaneously. The growling pack moved in on him, and he hissed a warning, drawing his swords again and once more letting his power rise and surface full-force. The blinding silver glow confused the werewolves, and he struck hard and fast, slicing the nearest wolf open from shoulder to hip.
Another, quickly recovered, jumped at him, and he impaled its stomach with one sword, drawing the yelping beast close and baring its neck. Its sweet, satisfying blood pumped down his throat, and he kicked another wolf back as it sprung at him from the side. Not having time to draw the feeding out, he drained the wolf in bare moments, throwing its limp body at the next that tried its luck. Three of them leapt at him at once, their movements swift and sure, and he took off one's head, sunk a blade to the hilt in another's neck, but didn't have time to get away from the third. Claws dug into his side their full four inches, sending fire through every nerve ending.
Not having enough time for more then a spot of rapid healing, he ripped the wolf off of him and threw it to the side like a rag doll. Three dead and four to go, his thoughts raced, while the sweet, cold rage continued infusing him from head to toe. Every cell within his body called out to kill the creatures in front of him, to repay the blood-debt the twisted beings owed his kind from ages long past. The four remaining wolves circled him slowly, cautious after the deaths of their pack mates. Their amber eyes reflected his silver light back at him, and the same fury he felt burned inside their gazes as well. Running footsteps sounded from behind him, and he moved sideways, keeping an eye on the circling wolves while seeing what was coming. When he did, he almost dropped his sword.
"Potter?" He questioned in disbelief, mechanically blocking one springing wolf's attack. Sure enough, there was the idiotic Gryffindor twit, running hell-bent towards him with a silver sword in one hand and his wand in the other. "What in the holy fuck do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going to help you, you stupid bastard! What do you think!?" Potter called back, approaching them and slowing slightly. Another wolf sprung, and Draco momentarily forgot about Potter as the wolf's blood called to him. It was the one that he had first wounded, and the gash on its side was bleeding profusely. Swinging with his right arm, his fist and his sword's hilt slammed into the werewolf's skull and knocked it to the ground, unconscious.
"Fool!" He snapped at Potter, seeing the remaining wolves beginning to turn towards him. Having a good mind to sit back and watch the moron get brutally ripped apart piece by piece, he began to sheathe his swords when another bolt of energy shot through his Mark.
'As amusing as that might be, dear Chosen, the human boy is needed. Thee must save him.'
'What!? You've got to be kidding me! He got himself into this shit!'
'Foolish bravery runs deep, as does misplaced love. I know only that thee shall have need of his blood one day. Trust him not, for something dark, yet strange, poisons his mind, but thee must save him all the same, my Chosen.'
Cursing savagely and feeling vaguely ill at Cocidius mentioning Potter and love together, Draco moved like lightning and jumped on the wolf's back that had been about to take out Potter's throat. The absolute bloody genius was trying to stupefy it. How pathetic. Feeling more than a bit vindictive over having to help the idiot, Draco caught his eyes as the wolf bucked underneath him, and smirked cruelly before sinking claws into the wolf's throat and ripping it open. Blood sprayed in a wild, warm arch, splattering over Potter's stunned face and even hitting Draco. Dropping off the dead wolf's back, Draco licked his lips automatically and ducked as another wolf sailed over him. It twisted when it landed, snarling and moving towards them as its last pack mate joined it.
"Would you please explain why in the fuck you decided to curse me with your company?" Draco snapped as Potter fell into step with him. "And do tell me that sword is at least enchanted. I know even you couldn't be quite dim-witted enough to run out in front of a demon with some muggle blade." Potter shot him a glare before turning back to the advancing wolves.
"Its not 'some muggle blade'," Potter said through clenched teeth. "It's Gryffindor's. Dumbledore gave it to me. And you looked like you could use some help with the pack of bloody werewolves trying to kill you."
"So you thought you were a good candidate? Besides, I didn't, and still don't, need your help. It does appear our roles are quite reversed inside your feeble little mind." Draco hissed, completely furious about having to practically baby-sit the helpless little shit, and doubly that because of the four-footed traitors that still breathed before him.
"Shut up, Malfoy! Now how do we kill them?" Potter asked in his utterly naïve way, and Draco shoved him backwards, redrawing a single sword and letting darkfire fill his other hand.
"We aren't doing shit." Draco snarled as the first wolf became bolder, and his words were strangely similar to those that he had spoken to Virginia. Strange also was how they were directed first at one he loved, and then at one he altogether detested. "You're going to move your lily-white arse backwards and get the fuck out of my way. Or did you prefer to die today? I'm sure we could arrange something."
"If you can kill them, so can I! You're no better than me, Malfoy!" Potter retorted, and in a classically stupid move, he turned to face Draco, taking his attention off of the werewolves.
They attacked simultaneously, and Draco shoved Potter to the ground, ignoring his cry of protest. Wonder Boy shut up, though, as he saw Draco throw up a black shield, which the two wolves crashed into. The darkfire burned through fur and skin in moments, and the creatures yelped and whimpered, scurrying away before it could kill them and licking their wounds. More footsteps came from behind, and Draco stifled a groan. Not again. Feeding more energy into the shield, he turned to see another six werewolves trying to flank them. He was actually sort of relieved. At least he didn't have two people he had to watch after. One was bad enough, especially considering the half-blood brat that it happened to be.
"Fuck! Potter, on your feet!" He said, grabbing the other boy up by his scarlet robes. Potter didn't even protest after he saw more of the wolves running towards them. "Alright, do you really want to help?" Draco questioned, watching as the wolves loped closer and closer to where they were.
"Yes." Potter replied seriously, looking over at him. The last near-death experience seemed to have sobered him a bit. Thanking Cocidius for small favors, Draco nodded.
"Fine. Run."
"What??"
"Run, you deaf simpleton!" Draco sneered, shoving him away. "I'm serious! Now, go!"
"Why in the hell should I-"
"Goddamnit, Potter!" Draco shouted, at the end of his patience. "I need at their backs!"
Understanding flashed across Potter's face, and Draco felt like hitting him. Cursing, he shoved him again, and Potter finally got the idea, running as fast as he could toward the far end of the pitch, away from the remaining students. The werewolves hesitated for a split second, looking between an enemy that had already killed off quite a few of them, to the fleeing human. Then they took off after Potter at once, just as Draco had known they would do. The two behind his shield ran around it, joining the other wolves, and Draco once more put up his sword before taking off after them. Calling in a fistful of darkfire and another of lethal ice, the chase begun.
One wolf noticed the danger coming from behind, but it was too late, as it had barely turned its furry head when the ice slammed into it. It went flying and tumbling through the air, before hitting snow much harder than it should have been. He was on the wolf in a second, and the ice had already spread over its entire body. Its eyes were still moving wildly, but one sharp hit to the chest had it breaking into nothing more than glittering shards. Then he was back on his feet, and a few running steps later, he leaped, crashing into two more wolves. They went down in a tangle of limbs and fur, and he rolled to the side, grabbing the muzzle of one wolf and letting darkfire race straight off his hand and into its body.
It began twitching madly, crumbling to dust, and he jumped to his feet, slamming his booted heel on the head of the other before it even knew what had happened after the fall. Taking off again, he saw Potter almost collide with the far goal posts, and the remaining werewolves were slowing, obviously intending to play with him a bit. Deciding that he could do much the same, Draco shifted in mid-sprint, and between one footfall and the next, muscles twisted and changed, flesh melted and fur flowed. He landed on four feet, his black-striped silver fur glowing with its own light as a single leap covered the considerable distance between himself and the wolves.
He landed in their center, right behind Potter, and they jumped in surprise. With a deep, feline roar, he launched himself at them, one massive paw swiping out and gutting the nearest wolf before his bulk slammed into the others. His senses were screaming at him as teeth sunk into his left hindquarter, and a powerful kick with the injured leg had the wolf's fangs ripping loose, tearing muscle and crunching bone as the creature was knocked back. His own teeth had another wolf by the throat, and blood shot out as he shook it, soaking the front of his fur. Spinning on the last two wolves, one of which was getting back up, he recognized the rising one's scent as that of a pack leader.
Growling low in his throat, he advanced slowly, a second from springing when Potter jumped in front of him, shouting something about him being wounded. Slightly dumbfounded at the Gryffindor's daftness, he wasn't able to react fast enough when he felt another wolf sneak up behind him. The damned thing was on his back before he could turn, its teeth clamping around his neck from behind. Cursing Potter with everything he had, he tried to shake the creature off, scent telling him it was the one he'd left unconscious across the field. Which just proved his belief to not to leave any of your enemies alive.
And he wouldn't have if that bastard hadn't come running over in the first place, playing the stereotypical hero. The other wolves, apparently abandoning Potter as they saw that their comrade had him, leaped on top of him too and managed to flip him over. Drawing his legs in to protect his belly, he cursed again as the second wolf's teeth sank into the vulnerable part of his throat and the third's ripped into his shoulder. The world began slowly going black, and his limbs felt so very heavy…Fighting against the pull, he determined that the thing's fangs hadn't broken the skin on the front of his throat, since it had iced over, instinctively protecting itself.
That didn't stop his air from being cut off though, and the three werewolves together almost equaled his weight as a much-larger-than-normal tiger. If he could get to his feet…Why was it so hard to concentrate? Struggling, he almost managed to get the wolf off of his shoulder, but the first wolf let go of the back of his neck and threw its weight fully on top of him. The darkness in front of his eyes was growing more and more distinct, and all he could think of was tearing Potter's head off. Everything would have been fine if he hadn't interfered, not once but twice. Renewed rage coursed through him, but it wasn't enough. Feeling himself sinking into darkness, he thought he was hallucinating when two voices exploded inside his mind.
'Non, mon âme! Venir en arrière!' Was that Blaise? ((No, my soul! Come back!))
'Draco! Please, no!' And…Virginia?
'I can't,' he tried to say, but wasn't sure that he wasn't just talking to himself in the first place.
'You must, cher un, you cannot leave us!' ((dear one))
'Fight it, Draco! Blaise is almost done! Please!' Her voice cut off with a sob, and he knew there was something he could do, but he couldn't think…
'I can't-can't remember…The demon…'
'Is fogging your mind as your strength wanes under its beast's teeth! Remember your birthright, souverain de mon coeur!' ((prince of my heart))
As if a veil had been lifted, Draco came back to himself, his mind clearing of the confusion spell. Every ounce of fury came back tenfold, and a burst of power had the wolves flying backwards like leaves in a storm. Springing to his feet, adrenaline cloaking the pain from his few, but serious, wounds, he scanned the area, searching for other threats. The three wolves had been shredded into bits by the icy explosion, and Harry was standing a few yards away, just out of range of his controlled blast. Snarling at the Gryffindor's guilty expression, he shifted back, quickly surveying the damage done to his body.
His left hip was shattered, but healing, and his left arm was hanging uselessly as the shoulder wound began to slowly close. Blood was trickling steadily down his back from the rear neck wound, and his robes and skin on his right side were hanging in tatters. The front of his throat felt bruised and was making it hard to breathe, and he knew that the wounds, since made by werewolf claws and teeth, would take a while to completely heal. Looking up at Potter, his thoughts froze over. He was going to kill him. Potter seemed to realize his intentions, and his emerald eyes widened. Moving swiftly, Draco appeared before him and raised a blue-tinged fist.
The Mark on his arm flashed, Cocidius's words running through his infuriated consciousness, and he barely had time to pull back before the killing blow landed. Stumbling and grabbing his forearm, he shot a hate-fed look at the boy standing shocked before him. Tearing his gaze away, he ripped off the bottom length of his robes, and tore that part into strips. Working speedily as the demon began moving towards them, he removed his sheathes and slid his robes the rest of the way off, bandaging his shoulder. At least he was regaining movement in his arm. When he was satisfied with that, he wrapped the remaining strips around his bare abdomen, covering the wound on his side. Kicking his ruined robes out of the way, he replaced his swords and faced the leisurely approaching threat.
"I-" Potter started hesitantly. "I should have listened to you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, I just wanted to help." The boy said, and the nauseous green tint that he'd acquired when Draco had dressed his wounds was still lingering on his face.
"You're damn right you should have listened to me." Draco snapped, licking his fingers free of his blood and beginning to rapidly re-braid his hair since it was coming loose and falling in his face, not to mention rubbing against his hurt back.
"I'm…I'm sorry, okay?" Potter stressed, and Draco's fingers missed a beat. Potter had just apologized? To him? Finding the situation suddenly quite humorous, Draco decided to string him along a bit. He could see quite a few possibilities for this new turn of events. Forcing his face into a considering expression, he added a bit of loathing just to be realistic.
"You-You mean that, Potter?" He asked, loving how sincere he sounded. What a fucking joke. Potter looked surprised, yet pleased at the same time. Congratulating himself on his brilliance, Draco gave a faked weak grin as the demon's voice rumbled over the pitch.
"Impressssive, iccce princcce." It hissed, once more dropping into a crouch. "And who might thy little human friend be?"
"Harry Potter." Draco replied nonchalantly, loving the flicker that crossed Potter's face when he hadn't protested the 'friend' part like he usually would have. Chuckling quite evilly to himself, he drew his swords. "So, do you still stick by your earlier claim?"
"Well, I mussst, mussstn't I?" The Deep Lord questioned sarcastically. "But 'tisss alright. After I kill thee, I ssshall have all of thy blood that I desssire."
"Ahh, now there's the million-galleon question." Draco replied, flexing his injured arm and feeling the slow, steady burn that testified his body was healing itself. "Because I don't believe that you can."
"Draco." Potter hissed under his breath, and it took Draco a moment to realize who had said it since it had been his first name spoken, not his last. "What the hell are you thinking? You can't fight that thing right now! You're hurt!"
"Shut the fuck up." He whispered back viciously, about two seconds from ripping the blabbering fool's tongue out. How much stupider could he honestly get? They were facing a demon, and he acted as if the thing couldn't hear them. Yes, Draco might be hurt, but drawing weaknesses to the thing's attention was an incredibly moronic thing to do. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stopped himself from utterly losing his mind and murdering the little twerp.
"Thy ssshall regret not sssurrendering when it isss done." The Deep Lord said, its voice like screeching, crunching metal.
"We shall see." Draco spat, both he and the demon moving forward. Potter made to follow him, and he stepped to the side so he could yell at him. "This is not your fight! You'll just get yourself killed." He told him, but he recognized the bull-headed look crossing Potter's features.
"I'm not letting you do it alone! I'm going to help you, damn it! That's what friends do!" Potter practically screamed. Draco barely stopped himself from laughing outright. Ooooh, this is even better than I thought.
"Friends, Potter?" He asked, having to fight to keep the derisive, mocking lilt from his tone. The demon continued its forward movement, and Potter nodded warily.
"If you want to be."
Draco pretended to think it over for a second. "Alright." He said, and Potter's eyes glinted strangely. Recognizing that look for what it was, he experienced that vaguely ill feeling again. Potter didn't seem to notice, probably didn't even really know what was shining on his face as plain as day, and Draco once more considered just letting him die. 'Thee must save him…' His Lord's earlier statement echoed in his skull, and he inwardly groaned. The demon drew closer, and he made the only decision he could. He threw a restraining, protective shield over Potter and moved to face the Deep Lord. He could distantly hear Potter pounding upon the shield, yelling at him, but he didn't have time to worry about him anymore.
If he failed, everyone was going to die anyway. When he felt a sick sense of satisfaction at that thought, he made himself remember the other Slytherins, Virginia, Blaise…It strengthened his resolve, but it also made him desperately want to look over at them, pick them out in the crowd of his green and black-clad Housemates. Ignoring the urge, he kept his eyes on the demon, who was raising a hand covered in darkfire. It threw the black and purple ball of flames, and it flew straight towards him. He waited until the last second and leapt out of the way, rolling when he hit the ground and regaining his feet. He sent his own blast of power as he deflected another with the blade of his sword.
It ricocheted off, sailing away a few dozen feet and crashing into the ground, leaving a smoking rut behind it like a meteor would. The demon rushed him, and he stayed utterly still as the earth quaked under his feet. Calling upon his power, he waited until the thing was almost on him before letting his aura slip his skin once more, the silver glow brighter than ever before as Cocidius fed him additional power through the Mark. It bellowed, throwing a hand up over its sensitive eyes, and he sped between its legs, cutting a huge length of its lower right calf open as he passed underneath it. It howled, rising to its full height and spinning around.
"Thee ssshall die much more ssslowly for that, little vampling!" It roared, cracking its whip in the air before it.
The long length of human flesh almost caught him, but he managed to get it wrapped around his sword instead of his chest. The blade was yanked out of his hand, and flew almost all the way to where the other Slytherins stood in a concealing circle. Shrugging mentally, he called in a sphere of icy magic, and lobbed one after the other at the demon as he tried to continue ignoring his growing pain. His wounds were beginning to throb since he was pushing himself to his usual endurance while he was still healing, and it was starting to take a toll on him. He barely had time to throw up a silver shield when the next ball of darkfire came sailing towards him, and the force of the impact nearly knocked him to the ground.
He twisted away, feeling the blood flow faster down his back, and threw his own blast of energy at the demon. It hit dead on, and he continued feeding power into the consecutive stream, the demon's scream the sweetest possible melody to his ears. Cutting the flow off when the Deep Lord cracked his massive whip again, he dove to the side. The whip barely grazed him, but it did so on his mangled side. Agony shot throughout his form, a red haze lining his vision. The poison on the whip started its work immediately, although he knew it wouldn't be lethal to him if he could heal it within the next few hours. And if he couldn't do that, then it meant he was already dead.
Hitting the ground hard, he took half a moment to get his breath back before rolling again as he sensed the whip coming down. It slammed into the snow right beside him, and he lashed out with his sword, severing a good five feet of it. At least it lessened the reach a bit. Thick, greenish-brown fluid leaked out of it, and the disconnected end flopped around like a snake with its head cut off. That thought brought another plan to his mind, and he swiftly pondered the probability of it working. Not having a better idea, he jumped to his feet and took off running in order to give himself time and room. The demon laughed, thinking him conquered, and he sneered maliciously at the idea of giving up.
Not a chance, he thought to himself, and he forced himself to go faster. The mix of the werewolf poison and the poison of the whip raced through his bloodstream, pain on its heels, and he clenched his teeth. Reaching a spot that seemed as good as any, he turned to see the demon thirty yards away and closing fast. He quickly vanished his remaining sword and the sheathes, before dropping to the ground. Screwing his eyes shut and bracing himself, he attempted a shift that he'd never tried before and prayed that it would work. Now was not a good time to splinch himself. As he felt himself growing and stretching, as he felt his arms melt into his sides and his legs fuse together, he opened his eyes only to see the world completely differently than he had a moment before.
His sight was weak, which was new, but flicking out his tongue told him more about his surroundings then his eyes ever could. He was towering twenty feet over the ground, and still had another thirty coiled underneath him. Scales rippled where flesh once had, and he could taste the venom dripping from his fangs, each of which felt longer than a full-grown human's leg. He had a moment to rejoice in his successful transformation, before the demon was before him. It swung one clawed hand, which was even with his head, and he curved his long, sinuous body to the side easily, barely even having to try. He kept his head lowered, though, as he didn't want to try that weapon until the spell Blaise was working on had activated.
The demon swung again and again, but Draco could move remarkably fast for being inside such a huge body. His wounds were still plaguing him, even worse than before because of the strain the shift had caused, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he slithered away from another blast of darkfire. Lifting himself as far up as he could, he would have found himself eye to eye with the Deep Lord had he looked up. As it was, his tongue flickered madly, readings of his surrounding pouring into his brain like crazy. He dodged the whip again and struck at the same time, his fangs sinking in to the demon's neck and shoulder.
He found, to his delight, that he could still feed in his current form, and mouthful after mouthful of powerful blood swamped his senses. He was thrown back after a short time of the demon struggling, but it was enough for the blood he had received to cancel out dragging pain for the moment. He had never tasted demon blood before, and what he had figured would be foul and sludgy was in reality as smooth as satin and better than an aged red wine. The demon, infuriated, brought the back of its fist down with dizzying speed, and it connected with the side of Draco's head, hard. As he fell to the side, facing the mass of students, he only had time to shut his eyes, nothing more.
It was fortunate that he had remembered to do so, as it was well-know that a basilisk's gaze is fatal, and he curled in on himself when he hit the ground. He was hurt, yes, but he planned to make the demon think him more injured than he truly was. He needed it to get close, to make sure his gaze would have the maximum potency if it even worked on the Deep Lord at all. He didn't have long to wait, as the demon came speeding up and kicked him, sending him rolling across the pitch as he stayed limp. He knew he was heading towards the students, but he couldn't do anything about it without giving himself away. Readying himself for the next blow, he was surprised when it never came.
"Over here, you ugly son of a bitch!" A female voice cut through his mind like razors as he recognized it. Letting his tongue flick out the barest minimum, he discovered that it was Virginia, and that she was moving forward towards the demon, blood already dripping off her blades from something. The first drop of fear entered him, and he had never been more relieved in his life then when he heard the next voice, knowing that its owner would protect her.
"Yes, do come play." Blaise's voice crawled across his tongue almost tangibly, coming from less than five or six yards away, near where the tip of his tail rested beside his head. "I can't think of anything I would rather do at the moment than banish you back to the dank, scorching hole you crawled out of. Well, except for killing you, of course."
"Ssso there thy are." The Deep Lord hissed. "Come out of hiding, have thee? Too bad thee waited ssso long. I'm afraid thy iccce princcce has already fallen." Two familiar explosions of power came from his left, and Draco reveled in the scent of his lovers' released magic. He could also feel the portal opening in the ground behind him, proof that Blaise had been victorious in pulling off the spell.
"You haven't defeated him as long as he still breathes! And you shall have to go through us to reach him." Blaise stated venomously, and he and Virginia moved in front of Draco.
"As thee sssaysss, thunder princcce. Thy ssshall both die with him then!" The demon exclaimed, and Blaise moved directly in front of Draco's head.
With the barest of movements, Draco extended his tongue, letting it brush the back of Blaise's leg lightly. He felt the muscle in his lover's leg tense, and he knew Blaise understood that he was better than he seemed and that the plan had changed. The demon tossed a ball of darkfire at Blaise, and he blocked it with one ebentine sword. The flames rebounded and flew down the pitch, crashing into something with a loud 'BANG'. He didn't know what it was until Blaise began cursing. Apparently, it had hit the shield covering and trapping Potter, and the Gryffindor git was free, once more coming to 'help'. Blaise, thanks to Virginia, already knew what Potter's earlier interference had caused, and he was not happy. Draco had other things to worry about, however, such as his plan.
His timing was going to have to be perfect, he knew that much. If he could pull this off, then both parts of the said plan should merge and fit together quite nicely. If he couldn't…Well, it helped nothing to dwell on that. He bided his time as Blaise and Virginia deflected shot after shot of darkfire, and paid no attention when Potter came running up, trying to see if he was all right. Every tiny part of his body was completely in tune with the Deep Lord's movements, and he knew he shouldn't have much longer to wait. When he sensed it drawing its arm back to hit Virginia, he knew it was time, but he almost missed his chance when Potter ignored Blaise's warning and hit him with a subduing spell. It went wrong because of the magic in a basilisk's scales, and instead of just knocking him out, which would have been bad enough, it hit him in the same spot that the demon had, and with the force of a train.
Striking out before he could lose conciousness, and in a move so fast that it very nearly shocked even him, Draco knocked Virginia out of the way and pushed up and to the side, wrapping around the demon's body and constricting with every ounce of strength he possessed. Its arms were trapped under his powerful coils, its legs squeezed together, and they fell to the earth as it lost its balance. His wounds were shrieking in protest, his head swimming and cracking, but he refused to lose it after he had pulled the risky move off to perfection. Lifting his badly injured head, he finally looked the Deep Lord right in the eyes. The body underneath him froze, and he internally howled with triumph. It wasn't dead, but he hadn't expected to kill it. It was petrified, however. His fangs sank into steaming flesh once more, and he gave a tremendous push against the demon's mind, breaking past its inner mental barriers.
'Revoke your word!' He shouted, putting as much force behind the mental shout as he could.
'Never, little Ssshadow-dweller!'
'Revoke your word!' He repeated, giving another savage mental shove. 'Taste of my blood and begone!'
'Nay! Think me not ssso foolisssh asss that. In thy debt I would be.'
'Then you shall die!' He screamed, feeling his wounds becoming too much to ignore. 'You feel the trap behind us, I know you do! Cocidius Himself has given us the power to slay you!' It was a lie, of course, but the demon didn't know that. The Mark, which on his snake body was directly above his third heart, gave a pulse of divinity as if in agreement. That sealed it for the demon.
'Ssso be it!' The Deep Lord roared. 'But the Dark Court ssshall hear of Lord Cocccidiusss'sss betrayal!'
'And what of your own betrayal by attacking his Chosen in the first place? Do not waste your time trying to trick me regarding Hell's laws. Now say it or meet your end!'
'I revoke my word! The Iccce Princcce'sss blood is worth my life!' As the words left it, Draco twisted his head, never withdrawing his fangs, and let his blood trickle into the demon's mouth.
The air cracked and boomed around them as the Underworld heard its cry and acknowledged the Deep Lord's oath-breaking. A small, black symbol burned itself into Draco's scaly side, a sign of the debt owed to him. Not waiting a moment more, Draco used the last of his strength to shoot into the air, the demon secured tightly in his clutches. Hurriedly unwinding his coils, he kept the grip he had with his fangs and tossed the Deep Lord into the blacker-than-black portal that had opened in the ground. It screamed inside his mind once more, believing itself about to die, but the scream cut off as the demon disappeared, the portal banishing it back to the Underworld.
Collapsing, not a drop of energy left to so much as lift his head with, he let himself shift back. His wounds were all bleeding freshly again, the healing that had been done ruined in the last struggle with the demon. The damage to his hip had actually worsened, his shoulder was dislocated under the shredded flesh, the front and back of his neck were throbbing, and blood had completely soaked through the bandage around his middle. Not to mention that his head felt as if it were splitting open. He could also feel the burn of the debt-mark on his right hand, but it was nothing compared to the rest. His vision was foggy and he only dimly saw three figures rush up to him.
"Draco! Mon âme, can you hear me!?" Blaise's silky voice questioned as each of his hands were latched onto. He fuzzily wondered what had his boyfriend sounding so panicked, but everything was fading out of comprehension.
"Shit! Draco, baby, please say something!" Virginia begged from beside him, and a weird sort of inner peace filled him when he hazily realized that they were both with him. He tried to answer her but his mouth wouldn't work, so he gave up, and seconds later he couldn't really remember what he was attempting to do anyway.
"He's lost too much blood!" Another recognizable voice shouted, and more seemed to be speaking up from everywhere and nowhere.
His hands started tingling, followed shortly by his Mark, and wave after wave of healing energy ran through him. His vision began to clear again, and he could make out his lovers' shapes hovering over him. Blaise's features were masked with concentration and desperation, and he wondered just how badly he was really hurt. Virginia's look mirrored his, and the energy kept coming and coming. Vitality slowly returned to his limbs, cracking the black mist surrounding his mind, and he sucked in a deep breath. Someone above him sobbed, and he turned his eyes from the stars above him back to Virginia. Clearing his dry throat, he was able to speak on the third try.
"I'm alright." He said, his voice sounding hoarse, and she leaned down, planting a tear-laced kiss upon his lips softly, as if she feared he would break. Blaise's kiss was nothing resembling soft or gentle however, and Draco immediately realized that he had sliced his tongue open beforehand, the power-filled blood mingling in their mouths.
"Back away!" He heard Severus yelling at the gawking students, and they reluctantly broke the kiss. "Back away, I said!"
"My sword." Draco whispered as he remembered the blade that had been knocked from his hand. Virginia made a face and Blaise rolled his midnight eyes, but both preformed and 'Accio' spell at once, and then grinned at each other when they realized it. His missing blade fell into his lap, and he sat up, the wounds still aching under the pain-numbing spells. He could feel that Blaise had neutralized the poisons in his system, but because of them, they hadn't been able to fully heal the damage yet.
"Draco…" Virginia started to protest as he rose to his feet, but he pulled her up with him and silenced her with a thorough kiss, vanishing his sword. Blaise's biting words brought him back from the bliss found in her warm lips.
"You almost ruined it all, you fucking idiot! Why couldn't you just listen!?"
"I didn't know, all right!" Harry snapped back, and anger leaked into Draco's veins once more. That absolute bloody bastard…
"Didn't know?" Blaise countered acidly, his eyes shining dangerously. "He told you time and time again to stop getting in the way. I told you not to cast that spell, but you just had to be so very goddamned Gryffindor and do it anyway! It almost cost us everything, almost cost him his life, and you want to say that you didn't know?" Blaise's voice became lower and lower, seeming to spread out around them in enraged, widening circles, and Draco and Virginia both knew that Potter was about five wrong words away from dying.
"Look, I-" Potter started, but Blaise waved him silent with a dismissive hand, turned on a heel and went to collect his swords, which were laying ten or so feet away. Potter's eyes flashed at the insult, and in a move that seemed more automatic then thought through, he raised the hand his own sword was still clutched in, bringing it down sharply. Fury swamping his senses, Draco leaped in front of Blaise's exposed, vulnerable back and caught the sword in one hand. His balance was off though, as he was still far from fully recovered, and the last thing he knew as he fell into the portal was voices all around and above him rising in screams.
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Love it, hate it, please, please, please review! (begs on hands and knees)