Word Count: 1166
They're sitting around the campfire after a modest meal of fish and berries. Ted and Dirk go back and forth, debating the merits of sending someone into a nearby town for supplies.
"I mean, we could go incognito," Dirk suggests as Dean focuses on his sketchbook, dirty fingers gripping what's left of his last pencil. "It isn't like anyone is on our trail."
He has a point, Dean thinks, but he doesn't voice this because even though he is an adult in the wizarding world, he doesn't feel like one yet. He lets the older men, the one who are more certain, act as the voices of reason.
They haven't encountered Snatchers in a week now. That has to be a good sign. Maybe they don't actually have targets on their backs. Ted disagrees, of course. Bellatrix Lestrange wants him dead, and he thinks she won't stop until she gets her way.
"It's too dangerous," Ted says, and his tone is so firm that Dean looks up from the half-finished portrait of Seamus, a poor rendition drawn from fading memories.
It's so unlike Ted to speak with such authority. From the moment Dean met him, he has proven to be a Hufflepuff through and through. Even Griphook seems to like him, and Griphook tends to not like humans. Even now, the goblin keeps his distance, back against a tree, listening and watching but never speaking.
"I'm not saying we ought to live like kings," Dirk insists, "but we need to have something. I would kill for a can of soup, honestly."
Dean's stomach growls at the mention of food. He's noticed during his time on the run that it's hard to stay full. Even if they find enough food to make a proper meal, they use so much energy as they stay on the move. It doesn't take long for their stomachs to empty again.
Dean thinks there might be some merit in what Dirk suggests. What's the harm in casting a spell and sneaking into a shop after hours? True, it's illegal, but these are desperate and dark times, and he thinks it's okay to bend the laws if needed.
"We will keep going in the morning," Ted announces. "Maybe if we put more distance between us and them, we can consider it. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind a hot shower."
"Or a warm bed," Dirk agrees, and he smiles because they seem to have reached an understanding.
Once it seems like the tension has faded, Dean returns his attention to his sketch. He loses himself in thought as he tries to line up Seamus' freckles just right. Then comes the noise, the unmistakable sound of something hitting their defensive wards.
"What was that spell?" Ted asks.
"Does it matter?" Dirk counters, on his feet in an instant, his wand drawn and ready. "If they're aiming spells at us, they're probably not friendly."
This scenario is painfully familiar. Dean really had hoped they had finally found peace. It doesn't take long to pack his bag and sling it over his shoulder. He takes several steps back until he is near Griphook.
The goblin always insists that he doesn't need to be defended, but Dean has noticed that Griphook stays behind the others during an attack.
He keeps his wand raised, his heart racing. Once their defenses fall, they will only have a few seconds to act. He knows the drill. One or two Snatchers, cast a few Stunning Spells, and get the hell out of there. Dean tenses, ready to grab Griphook at any second and Apparate to safety. They have a spot picked out, the closest thing to a safe spot that they can manage in these terrible times.
He sees a ripple through the air as another spell hits their barrier. It won't hold much longer. His chest aches, panic causing his lungs to feel like they've shriveled within his body.
It doesn't take long before it falls. One moment, he feels safe, the next, he sees a swarm of Snatchers, grinning and wicked and already screaming curses and hexes.
This isn't how it usually goes, and Dean isn't prepared for this. He freezes, a pained scream ripping through his throat. They're doomed.
A jet of green light hits Dirk square in the chest, and he falls. Somehow, Ted is quick on his feet. Amidst the chaos, he turns to Dean. "Take Griphook and run!" he cries. "Now, Dean!"
That's all it takes. Dean snaps out of it, grabbing Griphook by the wrist. For once, the goblin doesn't protest; if anything, he seems happy that anyone has thought of him at all.
"Go!" Ted screams between spells, moving with surprising grace.
With no choice, Dean obeys. With a pop he disappears, leaving Ted behind.
…
He's crying when they land. It's a small campsite they had stopped at a month ago. Ted had found it, and now Ted isn't there, and Dean is crying. He tries to steady himself and breathe, but he can't. It doesn't matter that they've made it to safety. Dirk is dead, and Ted isn't there.
"Put up the wards!" Griphook urges impatiently.
Dean shakes his head. "Not yet," he says. "Ted is coming."
In his heart, he knows it's wishful thinking. They had been badly outnumbered back there. As a group, they couldn't have taken out every single Snatcher. Ted alone…
But he doesn't want to think like that, doesn't want to believe that this is a world where Ted could be dead.
Griphook grunts his annoyance. He gestures at Dean's wand. "Don't put that away then," he snaps. "Some of us cannot wield magic as wizards do."
Dean nods, sitting down and gripping his wand. "You can rest," he tells his companion. I'll keep watch."
Griphook doesn't respond, but he finds a spot that's a safe distance away, starts a fire, and curls up beside it.
Dean waits. Ted will come back. He has to. Against all odds, he will find a way to make it out of this.
Except Dean knows it isn't true. He just can't bring himself to give up hope yet.
He doesn't know how much time has passed. Griphook has been snoring for some time now, and the forest is alive with the calls of nocturnal animals.
He has to face it. Ted isn't coming back.
Dean closes his eyes, taking a moment to reflect on the two men they've lost. Both had been good; they deserved better.
Ted wouldn't want him to sit here, feeling miserable like this. He would want Dean to stay alive and be okay. As much as it hurts, that's what he has to do.
Dean stands, raising his wand and casting the defensive spells the way Dirk and Ted taught him. Once he's satisfied, he sits by the fire and takes his sketchbook out. The portrait of Seamus can wait. For now, while things are still fresh in his mind, he begins to draw Ted.
