Disclaimer: Dude. Soooo not mine. And part of Bast's bio isn't mine either--belongs to SlashCity.
I found a letter that said:
"I'm sorry that you were asleep when I wrote these words down,"
You'd think I'd ought to be used to that by now.
Save for a few of those late night episodes,
Missed opportunities, and "I Don't Cares,"
There's not a lot that I feel obliged to share or talk about.
I'll have my brother stop by this Saturday to pick up my things,
Just make sure you're not there.
This may sound bad, and don't take it the wrong way.
I love you, however, you hold me down (x5)
You're the echoes of my everything,
You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.
You're the laziness of afternoon,
You're the reason why I burst and why I bloomed.
How will I break the news to you? (x3)
Cancel our dinner with Max and Coraline,
Feed Jacky's gerbil and try to stay clean.
We'll talk it over after I've had some time alone to sort it out.
You hold me down, you hold me down. You hold me down, you hold me down.
You're the echoes of my everything,
You're the emptiness the whole world sings at night.
You're the laziness of afternoon,
You're the reason why I burst and why I bloomed.
You're the leaky sink of sentiment,
You're the failed attempts I never could forget.
You're the metaphors I can't create to comprehend this curse that I call love.
How will I break the news to you? (x4)
-Hold Me Down- Motion City Soundtrack (Dude. Best. Song. Ever.)
We'll Be Waiting In The Dark Alleys
issalee
Harry hated being rescued.
He was breathing raggedly, sobbing and screaming at the same time from the force of the spell. What was going on? His insides were turning over and over and over again. Someone else was screaming; next to him? There was mass laughter too.
This isn't fair…
Three, Harry, is my favorite number.
The usually vivid green eyes were foggy with confusion and pain. Harry could feel the magic on his leg fading away quickly, leaving his cast exposed. With bleary, pain-filled eyes, he looked down and saw the pure white. It was becoming flecked with spots of red. Who was bleeding? Something warm slid down his lips.
Oh. Me.
He struggled vaguely, finding he was trying more to wipe the blood away than to stop the spell that was currently tearing at his very soul. He thought about the number three. A short giggle penetrated his thoughts, and the pain stopped.
"Let's let him down, shall we? I want to see him writhe in agony!" Tynan nearly cried at the sight before her when a Death Eater behind her complied with her wishes. Harry fell forward, not even bracing himself as he rolled a little away, glasses landing several feet away from him. Hermione immediately attempted to crawl closer to him, but Tynan made a discreet movement, and a few black-robed men soon held the bushy-haired Gryffindor back. She let out a wail as Tynan raised her hand again, and several things happened at once.
Through the open trees burst a furious looking Dumbledore, followed by Orion the centaur. Hermione took the chance caused by the ripple of shock that followed and bit one of her captor's hands. He howled in pain, and then suddenly, everyone was moving. Dumbledore shouted off what seemed like a score of spells, Orion began to shoot off arrow after arrow, and Tynan cursed loudly as she began screaming orders to her followers.
Hermione pushed away and ran, pausing only to grab Carina's hand before she fell to her knees at Harry's side. The boy was unconscious, it seemed, and tears welled up in her eyes as she smoothed his forehead.
"Oh, Harry…"
"Hermione," Carina said, looking miserably woeful. "We aren't going to last long, are we? Even if Dumbledore's here, I can't—my dad will find us."
"We can't run!" Hermione said, near hysterical. "Where—," she looked around, searching for someone. All she could see was a sea of black robes, leering faces, some frightened, and one single red flurry of robes and light in the middle of it all.
"We're going to have to run, Hermione!" Carina shouted. "There's no other way! We'll drag Harry along, but if anything, we're going to have to leave him!" The Gryffindor's eyes grew wide. Leave Harry?
Hermione gnawed on her lower lip as she crouched lower to the ground, attempting to remain unseen amongst the chaos. She had never before, never in the midst of any battle, whether personal or something like the War, ever considered leaving Harry behind. He hadn't, so why should she? Sure, Ron had doubted Harry a few times, but Hermione was just a natural empath. She knew Harry, inside and out.
She glanced down at the boy who had captured her heart years ago. She loved him, even more than as a brother, maybe, but that was how far there relationship would ever go. She was content with Ron. She wouldn't ever want Harry to be more to her than a close friend, and especially with the newly added Draco…
"Draco." Hermione said, looking up. She stood, ignoring Carina's cry, and flung Harry's limp arm over her shoulder. "I need a wand; the Death Eater's took mine."
The Slytherin girl hung back for a moment. Hermione understood; Carina was not being selfish. She had been taught to care only for herself, but she couldn't do that. She leaned towards logic, and logic said they ditched Harry and ran.
"Please," Hermione implored. Carina hesitated only a moment more before she leaned over and unhooked Harry's wand from his belt.
"They left it there," she explained. She took Harry's other arm and pulled it around her shoulders. "Let's go," she finished, handing Hermione the wand. The older girl smiled, before she set off at a steady run, pulling away from the battle. Carina followed, breathing heavily and trying not to lean too much on her injured leg as they set off.
Neither noticed the two pairs of eyes watching them; one, a usually twinkling blue pair followed quickly by a sigh of relief, and another, colder blue, followed by a howl of rage and shouted hexes.
Rabastan Lestrange was not that crazy. He just had a very…interesting life story, was all. As he sat in a dark, dank cell in the most secret of dungeons in Hogwarts, braiding the straw next to him, he mused on how utterly spontaneous his life was, and rather dark too.
Youngest of his family, he was easily led by his brother, following what Rodolphus and the other older wizards and witches said was right. By himself, chances are that Bast wouldn't have gotten into any truly bad trouble. He tagged along after his brother and later his brother's wife, staying in the shadows where it was generally safer all around. It was the high profile Death Eaters that tended to get arrested, killed, or punished by the Dark Lord. He was and is a Slytherin after all.
Intelligent in his own way, Bast excelled in psychology and the general medicine field. At one time, he might have made one hell of a good doctor. Now, he's more like a Hannibal Lector. Somewhere along the way, he jettisoned his morals. He has no problems torturing a person, evidenced by his participation in the Longbottom affair. During that, he merely stood back, observing with great interest how the victim's mental states declined with each application of the curse. The human mind fascinates him, especially how to break it apart.
Bast Lestrange was sentenced to Azkaban for the torture of the Longbottoms along with his brother, sister-in-law, and the rest of the Death Eaters in that infamous band. Given a life sentence, he served only 15 years of it, escaping with the rest during the massive Death Eater breakout shortly before Voldemort's fall. Bellatrix might be quite clearly insane, but Bast hides his own well. There's a lot of it to hide. Damn shame in his opinion that Harry Potter was dibbed by the Dark Lord.
He has a memory that is near perfect concerning things read from books or seen in pictures. It's a long running amusement in his family when he uses that ability along with that of excellent mimicry to poke fun at one person or another.
Although it's rare, he can be angered just like anyone else. That's the time when he most resembles the rest of his family. He's as insane as the rest of them, but it's a lucid brand of insanity. One that keeps him operational instead of merely flailing. Cruelty takes a front seat and his wide knowledge psychology and the knots it can tie a person up in come to the forefront. After spending most of his adult life in Azkaban, he's comfortable with being alone although enclosed spaces bother him greatly. It's not unusual for whatever room he is in to have all the windows and doors thrown open to attempt to relieve that claustrophobia.
Bast is also has an eidetic mind or commonly called an 'Eidetiker'. Eidetic is the ability to recall image into the mind at will. Beyond the ability to simply remember details, an Eidetiker actually holds a pictorial image in memory; he or she can 'project' remembered image onto surfaces, or combine remembered image to make a combined image. As a concept, it's the stuff of daydreams. But what happens when the image and emotions associated with them are unwanted? Is the Eidetiker cursed with exact recall in this case? A lot of Rabastan's insanity comes back to this ability.
Butterflies and squirrels are the bane of his life. They seem like odd things for one who is a Death Eater to be frightened of, but he has his reasons. Butterflies are horribly random creatures to him, and anything that is more random that he is merits destruction. It doesn't help that someone once told him about the Butterfly Effect of "a butterfly flaps its wings in Japan, and tornados strike Texas". That scared the hell out of Rabastan. Since that moment, butterflies have become the enemy. Squirrels are simply furry rats in his opinion. While he has nothing against rats, the whole sneakiness of squirrels bothers Rabastan. As with the butterflies, anything that mimics him (he pretends to be cute, fluffy, and utterly nuts to hide a sharp mind - squirrels put on fluffy coats and act cute to get nuts) needs to be done away with. Seeing any of these two creatures or even the mention of them will send Rabastan scurrying up the nearest person to hide with repeated cries of "Kill it... NOW!" Good thing he's only 5'2.
He's also rather jealous of Bellatrix. She's not good enough for his brother in his opinion. Chances are that if he doesn't have someone else to annoy when boredom strikes, she's going to be the target of his mischief. This generally consists of him mimicking Sirius Black's voice or something of the same juvenile manner. Rodolphus Lestrange is everything in his life. Brother, parent, god, idol, and confidant. He became a Death Eater to follow his brother, even went to Azkaban for fifteen years for him. There is nothing he wouldn't do for Rodolphus. Quickest way to get on his bad side is to say something bad about his elder sibling.
Nine out of ten, Bast will come off acting like an idiot, especially if he's unsure of the person he's speaking to. Childish requests aren't above him. In his mind, it helps lull anyone he's facing into a false sense of security and of being smarter/greater/better than Rabastan is. The insanity defense works well for him. Most normal people don't go about shrieking in fear of butterflies and squirrels as well as demanding chocolate.
Rabastan's hair is white ... You spend long years in Azkaban sometime and see what color your hair comes out. It was blonde before in all fairness.
So, you see, Bast can't be called crazy.
Tortured, maybe, but definitely not crazy.
Ron was unbelievably frightened. Seamus and Dean were crouching next to him, both shaking as they tried to drown out the noises outside with soft singing.Casey wants to twirl that silver girl…twirl, twirly, twirl…
Seamus looked up, blinking. "What comes after that?" Dean looked at him, shook his head, and then slipped under the window again. He peered up, and then immediately sat back.
"It's crazy. I can't even see the teachers anymore, just dust and clouds and lots of screaming. I think—I think I saw someone jumping out of the window."
"The Imperius Curse, d'you think?" Ron said glumly. He attempted to make his voice light, but it ended on a high note. Sighing, the redhead buried his head in his arms. "We're locked inside Hagrid's hut, but Harry and Hermione are in the forest. They can't have survived!"
"They'll be fine." Seamus said, although the cracking of his voice didn't reassure anyone. He suddenly stood, and stomped across to the other side of the cabin. "We're going to down these Death Eaters!" he said.
"Mate, you've gone mad," Dean mumbled.
Seamus grabbed several of the horns that were hanging on hooks on the wall, and wrapped them around his neck. "To the back!" he shouted, and ran towards the general direction of the back door.
"You don't think he'd actually—," Ron started, and Dean shook his head.
"He wouldn't."
"He couldn't." Ron agreed. Then, they both turned to look at each other.
"He's Seamus."
They both got up at the exact same time and took off to where the Irish boy had disappeared. Thankfully, when they stumbled into Hagrid's small (in his case, giant in theirs) they found Seamus kneeling by a window, peering out of the dusty pane with intense concentration. He had pulled it open just the slightest bit, and was holding a horn to his lips.
"What are you going to do?" Dean asked him, relieved that the other boy was all right. "Are you mad? You've lifted up the window! Do you even know what that horn does? Seamus, what would your mother think if she saw you doing this?"
"I dunno. Definitely. Um, yes, I have. No. And, I suppose she would tell me to hit them straight between the eyes!" The Irishman answered. "But Hagrid gave us a lesson on this once, before. They're all mating or battle horns, right? So we just call all of the Forest's creatures that were either hiding or don't know about this yet."
"What doesn't know about this yet?" Ron muttered. "I bet you my mum's heard already and she's freaking out." He made as if to move and grab the horn, but Seamus put it to his lips.
The horn seemed to be covered in shaggy fur, and winding around it was what looked suspiciously like a spider web, but on closer inspection turned out to be string. Seamus blew, and then fell back at the high-pitched screeching noise that came from it, like someone wailing at the most awful of destructions. He attempted to pry it from his lips, but it kept up, falling in and out of crescendo until finally, finally stopping.
Outside, an eerie silence had fallen.
"That was a banshee call," Dean whispered, looking ashen. "And mating or battle, I don't want to find out. I want to live!"
"But we can't leave!" Ron protested, although he was already pressed against the door. "What's it look like outside, Seamus?"
The Irish boy, despite his fear of banshees, had managed to pull himself together. Carefully, he approached the window, and drew back a corner of the curtain that had fallen upon it.
"Oh Circe!"
He screamed as he stumbled back, gripping his wand in tight fingers and finally falling because of the horns around his neck. Peering back at him through the window was a gray, slick face, drawn and pale. Wide, haunted eyes were looking mournfully around the room, as though searching for something. Slicks of black hair fell across the face, hiding part of the left eye.
Ron nearly started laughing at the shocked look on the banshee's face when she realized that none of her kind was in the room. Her eyes grew wider, if possible, and she opened and closed her small, delicate mouth like a fish. But then, the redhead noticed one disturbing thing that caused all ideas of laughter to die immediately.
Instead of pupils, the banshee's eyes were completely and totally white. No irises or anything, just white white eyeball. But as her lips turned into a scowl, her eyes darkened, and became a dark, angry black.
"RUN!" Dean shrieked, already grabbing Seamus about the collar. The banshee let out a loud shriek of her own, but it soon turned into her customary wailing noise. Ron covered his ears and barreled out of the room, down the hall, and out of the back door. He hit the dirt and rolled over, standing up almost immediately.
The banshee was already gliding towards them, and he caught a glimpse of the hear-deserted courtyard, which had only a few bodies lying on the ground, before he decided now would be a good time to start running.
"Help!" He shouted, attempting to get away. "Help me, somebody!" Dean and Seamus he couldn't see, and as he turned around to try and find them, he tripped over something. Ron twisted his head, and all color left his face.
The sightless eyes of Padma Patil stared back at him.
Ron was used to seeing bodies of loved ones staring at him in such a fashion. He had been in the war, after all, and was lucky his immediate family had come to no harm. Except for Percy, who had simply disappeared, they all escaped relatively unscathed.
But the sight of someone he had known so well so soon after recovering from the War was too much, and he turned the other way, heaving out his breakfast. He remembered the pancakes he had previously eaten, and moaned as he sat up.
The grounds were deserted. The banshee was nowhere in sight. Had she gone after Seamus and Dean? There was no way to tell, only an eerie silence. Ron punched the ground, suddenly angry with himself. What if he had lost two other people because of his cowardice?
Harry would have never run…
"Oi, Ron!"
He turned, and found said two boys to be running toward him. Seamus was still looking considerably insipid, but Dean seemed slightly better.
"What happened to the banshee?" He asked, relieved.
"I think she scared everyone away. She was following us, and then she just disappeared."
"But she came after me first!" Ron said, confused.
"That, Mr. Weasley, is a very clever deduction. Unfortunately, it's not correct." All three boys turned to find a very proud looking Prof. Flitwick march out of the surrounding bushes, smiling widely.
"I'm glad to see that charm worked!" he squeaked. "I was flung quite a bit far back in one attack, you know. When I heard young Seamus' banshee battle call, I decided that a little Replicating Charm was in order. Several banshees swooped down, and they scattered like a dozen flies. The charms won't wear off for a while; I had to call off the two I accidentally set on you."
"Er…thanks, Professor." Ron said, as he got up. "Where are all the other teachers?"
"Heh… 'Spect they'd moved on too," Flitwick said sheepishly. "Mayhaps the spell was a bit too convincing. Come now, though, boys. What were you doing in Hagrid's hut anyhow? Let's go into the school now…"
Seamus finally opened his mouth, as though he was going to say something, but Ron elbowed him in the gut. The redhead smiled at Flitwick, who narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing as he walked on. Ron, Seamus and Dean lagged behind a moment, and Ron looked down at them (not hard to do, with his height) looking serious as he ever could.
"Not a word about Harry or Hermione, hear?" he hissed. "They may need help, but if we tell anyone…well, can you imagine all the teachers running into the forest and screaming about how Harry's gone? It won't end up well for any of us." He stalked away after Flitwick, seemingly calm.
Dean stared for a moment before shaking his head. "Since when did he get so smart?"
Seamus rubbed at his pale cheeks. "I don't think our teachers would scream, do you?"
Somewhere in Draco's mind, he realized what he was doing was utterly wrong. He shouldn't have leapt into that fray when he heard those screams; he shouldn't have frozen when he looked around and saw those Death Eaters (people he had known, he had to remind himself) flinging curse after curse after curse to his Headmaster, and some teachers that looked lost. As though they'd been wandering aimlessly in the forest and couldn't get out. No one noticed him, even with his wings spread behind him like a beacon in the dark. Dark? Was it really so late?
He shouldn't have looked down and seen the pool of blood (Harry's?) and swallowed because his throat was suddenly unbearably dry. He shouldn't have looked up, and locked eyes with his aunt, whose eyes had lightened a shade. She smiled at him.
He shouldn't have even been out here, just like he shouldn't have been there the day the attack happened in Diagon Alley.
He shouldn't have taken off when Tynan smiled; he shouldn't have felt frightened, angry, but more shocked by it all. And he certainly shouldn't have stumbled as he ran; Malfoys were graceful, not clumsy.
And now as he laid breathing heavily, with discord ringing in his ears and such an absolute need to be near his mate that it nearly killed him, he almost just gave up. How hard would it be to just lie there and never get up again?
He rolled over on his side.
Leave my friends? Or, the few I have…leave Harry?
He remembered his last attempt to be chivalrous, and shivered, but he couldn't dredge up enough determination to push himself up. Someone screamed in the distance, and it was silenced quickly. He sat up automatically, gripping his wand. It could have been anyone, couldn't it? But his heart was still pounding, and his head was still swimming, and he was still nauseous and worried.
"…lay him down…"
Draco stood swiftly with the feline grace that he had been born to use. A new anger rose in him, fresh and swift in the coming. They had killed someone. They could have killed even more. And he was sitting here, when he could do much, much more, sulking? With a lethal look in his eyes, he carefully skirted the trees and bushes, and peered around.
Someone in black robes was leaning over a crumpled body. Another person was standing just out of his line of sight, and as he strained to get closer, the kneeling person shifted. A tousled head of black hair became visible, followed shortly by the rest of a pale, drawn face.
Draco suddenly felt as sick as he could get.
Hermione was feeling nauseous herself as she leaned over Harry, prodding at his ribs and the like. She sat back on her haunches; ready to tell Carina they could start moving again without the risk of any bones digging into Harry's organs when she heard Carina gasp. Something pressed up against her neck, and she froze.
"Move back from him," a cold voice told her.
Hermione recognized it immediately. "Draco, listen, we need your help!" She felt the object against her neck waver, and then fall back. Draco was suddenly kneeling next to her, one his wings wrapping almost unconsciously around her form.
"What happened?" he asked, in a strange, garbled voice as he looked down at Harry. "Is he okay? Why are you here?" But Hermione didn't get a chance to answer, because at that moment, Carina stumbled across to them, and fell to her knees next to Draco. She was suddenly crying, and he automatically reached a hand out to touch her shoulder, without saying a word.
"That lady—Tynan, wasn't it? She used the Cruciatus Curse on him, and it was really powerful. I don't know what happened—he won't wake up, and we already tried using Ennervate on him." Hermione stumbled over her words, tongue oddly swollen. "Carina's leg has a deep wound in it." She stopped, suddenly. She had already forgotten why she had come into this forest in the first place.
Draco didn't notice. He withdrew his hand and placed it on Harry's chest, waiting for the feel of the rise and fall to show he was still breathing. When it came, it was barely detectable and labored.
"He needs help," The Slytherin boy said. Without warning, he slipped his arms under Harry's body and picked the other boy up, then stood. The two girls followed as quickly as they could. "We have to get to the school, as soon as possible."
"Wait!" Carina sniffed, looking as though she was about to burst into tears again. "What about Carleigh and Chloris?" Draco felt an unfamiliar lump rise in his throat, forbidding him to speak and leaving him with a dry mouth. Fortunately Hermione saw this, and she answered quickly.
"They're probably back at the school already," the Gryffindor responded brightly. "Now, come on, let's go. While everyone is distracted." She added silently, Distracted by the blood, and let the younger girl lean on her as they tried to make headway in the wild of the forest.
No need for all things to be voiced aloud.
Soooooooo...how are you all?
I swear to God I have a better explanation for how late this is somewhere, but unfortunately, it's nowhere close to here. Besides the fact that I am tired beyond tired and trying my best to sleep every moment I get, it's not helping. This is being posted on one of my brief half hour breaks.
Unfortunately, no review replies, as I am having enough trouble trying to see straight as it is. Smile, though, and review for this chapter! Swear to the Gods I'll answer next time...
