AN: Wow I did not mean for it to take this long to write this chapter! I wrote half of it and then I got a serious case of writer's block coupled with the realization that I'd written myself into a corner made of reinforced concrete. I might have been stuck there forever except my wonderful roommate/friend/fellow HP nerd came in with a sledgehammer and smashed down those walls so you have them to thank for this chapter finally getting finished! They are wonderful and only rolled their eyes like, twice, when I bitched about this chapter. Anyway...

This chapter is a little shorter than my usual chapters, but I realized that this chapter needs to end where it does so, yeah, it's just short. We will return to regularly scheduled length next chapter. As always, huge hugs and glitter for everyone who favorited/followed! And special hugs for everyone who left reviews: Lydia-Rashel, Keke Koorime, Black Banshee, LightofEvolution, ArielNicholas913, I was BOTWP, AlexandraO, Cecily Mitchell, and guests! Your support is what keeps me writing! For real, knowing there are people out there reading keeps me motivated to get words on the page. So this is for you all 3

Okay, this note has gone on long enough. Enjoy!


Changing Scenery

Chapter 24: Wait

Draco would really, really like it if he never woke up wondering where he was ever again. At least he was alone this time. After Dunham had first kidnapped him, when Draco had woken up it had been to Dunham hovering over him with a manic grin. Alone was a marked improvement over that.

This time the room was empty and unfamiliar, but at least it had a window so that he could look around, even if it was coated in dust. Draco could tell even by a quick glance that it wasn't the same house he'd been in before, which made sense. Whoever was pulling the strings was certainly clever enough to have a backup house for the ritual if they were clever enough to be able to kidnap three people out of a courtroom in the Department of Mysteries. Draco was fairly certain the third person was an Unspeakable, but he wasn't sure. But they were definitely working with Dunham. Draco distinctly remembered two people casting spells at him before he was Stupefied.

Speaking of which…

Draco wiggled his fingers and toes and tried to flex the rest of his muscles, but it was difficult given the rope tying his hands and feet. He wasn't Petrified, but it looked like Dunham had given up on what little civility he'd had before. No bed for him this time – he'd been thrown into a corner, his hands bound behind him and tied to his feet which were also tied together. His muscles were cramped painfully, but at least it was only from the uncomfortable position he'd been forced into. None of the agonizing spasms or cramps flared in his muscles that were a fun side effect of the Cruciatus. He'd become familiar with the feeling during the war, and Dunham had made sure he wouldn't ever forget.

Bastard. If he ever came face-to-face with Dunham when he had a wand…he wasn't sure he'd be able to control himself.

Draco wasn't sure how long he'd be left alone, or even how long it had been since he'd been kidnapped, but he knew he needed to make the most of whatever time he had. He looked around for weapons or ways to free himself but came up frustratingly short.

The room looked like it had probably been used for storage but it had been mostly cleared out at some point. The floors, despite being dusty, were of excellent quality and there were no loose nails that he could see to saw off the ropes. A few boxes were littered around, but they didn't look promising either. He managed to scoot over to the nearest box, knocking the lid off with his shoulder, only to find it was filled with old, dusty papers. He checked all the boxes he could get to, but they had similar contents.

Draco wriggled backwards until he was leaning against the wall in the corner furthest from the door – locked, he assumed, though he couldn't reach the knob, as well as warded – and sighed. He blew out a breath, stirring the lock of hair that had fallen into his face. He tipped his head back, staring up at the ceiling.

Fucking hell. I can't believe this happened again. Bloody Ministry.

After an indeterminate amount of time spent following patterns in the wooden boards above him, it occurred to Draco that unlike the first time he'd been kidnapped, he was no longer human.

He had the strong urge to hit himself on the head. I'm an idiot.

Flexing his shoulders, he wondered if he could get his wings out without dislocating his shoulders with his arms bound behind his back as they were. Then he remembered. With a fierce grin, he allowed his talons to slide out.

They were one of the Veela traits he'd hated most after his transformation, a sharp reminder that he wasn't all human and never would be again, but he couldn't be more grateful for them now. Testing the way the ropes were tied to make sure he wouldn't stab himself, he carefully slid a talon into the weave of the rope binding his hands and then used the razor-sharp edges to slice it apart. He had to slice apart a few more ropes before he could wiggle out of his bonds, but once he could he stretched his arms in relief. Quickly, he sliced the ropes tying his feet together and then stood up, shaking out the kinks in his muscles.

Draco looked around the room. It was small, but there was enough space. Carefully, he allowed his wings to come out. He was glad he'd worn one of his new suits, designed to accommodate for his wings, to the hearing, because he didn't fancy standing around in a torn shirt in a drafty old house in November.

It felt good to let out his wings, like tension he didn't know he'd been carrying was released, but it didn't really do much to help his situation. The door was still heavily warded, and without a wand there wasn't much he could do. His wings and his Veela magic would protect him from some Dark spells, but not all of them, and Draco would bet quite a few Galleons that Dunham or whoever was pulling the strings knew which spells he had no resistance to and had used them specifically.

Despite that knowing that, he went over to the door to see if he could pick the lock with a talon now that his hands were free, but quickly stepped back as soon as he ran a hand over the knob. He hadn't been paying much attention before, but now he could feel the spells on the other side and the strength and malice behind them raised the hair on his arms and sent a shiver down his spine.

Guess I'm not getting out through the door, then.

With nothing else to do, Draco inspected every inch of the storage room he was in. While old and clearly disused, the room was solidly built and there were no cracks in the walls or floor or even the ceiling. The window was set high in the wall and although he could reach it, it was far too small for him to fit through even if he tucked his wings away. With no obvious escape routes, he searched the boxes more thoroughly to see if there was anything he could use. Unfortunately, they proved equally useless on the second search. There were no weapons or tools in any of them, and the only thing he was able to determine was that he was in the old Carrow Manor.

Draco shuddered. He'd never liked the Carrows. Growing up, he'd been forced to visit with them a few times and then he'd gotten far more acquainted with them than he'd ever wanted to be during his seventh year at Hogwarts. They'd been particularly unpleasant even before the Dark Lord's return and downright nasty afterwards. He had no doubt that the Dark magic he could feel lingering in the walls was at least partially the reason that this building had been chosen for the ritual.

Trying to keep his mind off the war and the thought of what secrets and memories these walls might hold, Draco started pacing. There wasn't much room, but it was better than sitting on the hard wooden floor.

Four paces, turn, four paces, turn, four paces, turn, four paces, turn, four paces, turn…

Draco jerked awake, talons out and wings coming over to form a feathery barrier in front of his chest out of reflex. He looked around wildly but the room was empty. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sleeping and there was no way to tell except that it was now dark out whereas before he'd fallen asleep the window had been letting in whatever light trickled from between the thick grey clouds. His night vision, while better now that he was a Veela, still wasn't perfect, but it was enough to see that he was still alone and the door was still closed, which was enough for him to tuck his wings back behind him and sheathe his claws.

He waited to see if he could figure out what had woken him, but after several minutes passed in complete silence, he relaxed back against the wall.

Draco sighed. While admittedly rather terrifying, being kidnapped was mostly boring. Even the first time Dunham had kidnapped him, while the periods between torture sessions were their own form of torture since he never knew when Dunham would return, Draco had had nothing to distract himself with. This time, at least, he could move around instead of being strapped to a bed, but aside from rereading the papers, he still had nothing to do.

Rather than sink into the mind-melting terror that lurked in the back of his mind, waiting for him to let down his guard, he thought about Harry and Hermione.

He knew without a doubt that they would come for him. Well, Harry would likely be the one to physically come for him since he was an Auror, but Hermione would undoubtedly be the one to figure out where he was being kept. At least, he hoped they were working together and that Harry had finally apologized to her. Somehow though, he doubted it.

The tension at his trial had been palpable and Harry had looked more guilty than upset. If Harry hadn't apologized before the trial, he certainly wouldn't have apologized afterwards. Hermione had looked upset as well, but beneath that Draco had glimpsed something edging on heartbreak. He could smack Harry for his stubbornness.

He wished he knew how to fix it.

A sick feeling that had nothing to do with the hunger pangs that had started a few hours ago settled in his stomach. He hated knowing that his mates were out there suffering. And both of them were, even if Harry was too stubborn to own up to his actions or admit that fighting with Hermione was painful for him too.

No small part of him was afraid that their fight would tear apart what they had before it could ever really become something. And it could be something great. If Samhain had done nothing else, it had proved that they had good chemistry. Harry and Hermione had been friends for years, and if they'd just let themselves, Draco knew they could fall happily in love. And even if he'd spent most of his formative years hating them, Draco was pretty sure he could fall in love with them too. Not that he'd tell them that anytime soon. But Draco had been raised on the belief that family mattered above all and he'd be damned if he let one fight destroy his new family.

Rather than linger on thoughts of a life empty of his mates if they couldn't make up, he distracted himself with thoughts of what they could have. And if memories of Samhain played a small role in those thoughts, well, Draco's thoughts belonged to him alone.

Draco wasn't sure what time it was when he heard noise in the house for the first time since waking up after falling asleep to thoughts of Harry and Hermione in…compromising positions. The wavering light from the window hadn't changed, giving no clue to how much time had passed. Carefully, he climbed to his feet, tucking himself into the furthest corner from the door. He kept his talons and wings out and ready – if this was Dunham or the other person who'd kidnapped him, he wanted to be prepared to protect himself, and, if he was lucky, escape. When they came for him, they'd have to take down any protections they'd put up and that would be his chance.

He waited tensely for the door to open but despite all the footsteps he could hear in the distance, none approached the door. His heart was pounding so loudly he nearly confused it for more footsteps.

It wasn't until he heard the huge crack of Apparation and interminable time later that he realized what those sounds must have been.

They found me! The Aurors had come for him!

But swiftly following that was the realization that they'd left him behind – the Aurors had come, but they hadn't rescued him.

Maybe they didn't want to.

For a brief, crushing moment, he wondered if this was their way of getting rid of him for good. He wouldn't be a problem anymore if they let him starve to death in this godforsaken house in the middle of nowhere. Even though he'd been exonerated at the end of the war, there were still plenty of people – on both sides – who would like nothing better than to see him dead. Nightmares of some of those people still woke him up at night, the feel of a wand pressed to his throat lingering even after the sun had risen.

With difficulty, Draco shook himself out of those thoughts. Harry and Hermione might be fighting right now, but they'd never leave him to rot.

He clung to that belief as silence descended on the house again.

When Draco woke up next, it was dark. His mouth felt dry and he was starting to feel clammy. He tried to stand but his legs were shaky and he decided it was probably better if he saved his strength.

At least the hunger pangs had stopped.

At first he thought it was the sun in his eyes that had woken him up. The sky had finally cleared and the light pouring in through the dusty window was blinding after the bleak weather of the past few days.

His eyes wouldn't focus and he was barely able to push himself into a sitting position from where he'd sunk to the floor when he'd fallen asleep. He was panting by the time he managed it and his head was swimming.

It wasn't until he heard the noise that he realized it wasn't the sun that had woken him.

Footsteps echoed through the house, muffled by the wooden walls. It wasn't until they were practically on the other side of the door that he realized that they were drawing closer.

He watched with a sort of detached fascination as the knob on the door turned. The door slowly swung open and Draco automatically tensed up. He couldn't make sense of the person in doorway; his eyesight was too blurry and all he could see was a dark figure holding a wand.

His wings came around him to protect him and then he passed out.