Draco walked in front of Blaise clumsily, self-consciously. His bare feet splashed in the cold, mucky water that was filling the stony corridor around him. It made him shiver. As Draco walked, he became hyper aware of all the damages his body had taken over the last week. Everything seemed to ache, and one shoulder throbbed incessantly. He felt weak, and his pulse bounded in his ears like the beat of a war drum. His empty stomach growled meekly, to remind him that he was starving. He had never felt so low in his entire life. The air around him smelled wet, like hot summer rain. It was nauseating.
Blaise was silent behind him, his own footsteps keeping time with Draco's. Draco considered trying to talk to him and then thought better of it. What could he say? Hello, old friend. You're looking well. Shall we go see Voldemort then? He felt dismayed. Blaise had been a real friend. A confidant. Some one who wasn't just another death eater clone, primed and ready to serve. But that had been a lifetime ago, and friends didn't exist for Draco anymore. What a laugh that the closest thing I have to a friend is Granger, and even she probably hates me.
The pair eventually ascended a spiral staircase, and Draco felt his legs get weaker. He was afraid of what was waiting above. He would undoubtably be tortured, and questioned, and then killed. He no longer believed that was better than drowning alone.
"When you get to the top step, stop walking." Blaise commanded from behind, voice almost bored. Draco stopped. He swayed briefly. He wondered if he would pass out, as darkness swan before his eyes but dissipated quickly. Blaise stepped in front of him, sharply dressed in slate gray robes trimmed in black silk. He looked healthy, clean-cut (other than the damp line ringing the bottom of his robes) and he had a bemused expression on his face that Draco couldn't read. Draco also noted that had had started growing a bear since last Draco had seen him.
"I don't think I have ever seen a Malfoy so besotted," Blaise mused, stepping around Draco in a half circle. His eyes gave nothing away.
"I don't think I've ever seen an imbecile so up trumped before, but here we are," Draco shot back immediately, trying very hard to display a bored expression on his face.
"You would do you well to guard your tongue, current circumstances being what they are," Blaise said lightly, his expression amused.
"I would do well with a glass of fire whiskey and naked witch, current circumstances being what they are," Draco countered. Blaise cracked a smile that bordered on being a sneer, before turning on his heel and magically unlocking the heavy iron door in front of them. A familiar smell hit Draco from the other side of that door. A smell of ink, and quills, and book pages. A smell of pine and faint owl droppings. A smell from a time when Draco's world had been right. A smell of normality. A thousand images swam before Draco's eyes, each memory a shard of broken glass encircling him. It was a painful sensation that made sadness seep into his soul. Hot tears threatened to escape his eyes and he blinked them away. It wouldn't bode well to start crying here, now.
As Draco stepped through the doorway he was consumed with pain. An excruciating pain that made him fall to his knees and throw his hands around his head. It was over as soon as his knee's hit the corridor floor, and he looked up to lock eyes with a smirking Pansy Parkinson. She was dressed in black robes trimmed with red velvet, and her raven hair hung around her face in loose curls. She looked quite smug standing above him.
"Just thought I'd give you a proper welcome, blood traitor," Pansy mocked curtsied at him. Blaise stepped in between them casually.
"Not your territory Parkinson," Blaise said coolly.
"What is and isn't my territory doesn't concern you Zabini," She hissed back, her eyes narrowing.
Blaise looked down at Draco and signaled with his head for him to follow. Draco stood up on shaky legs, eager to get away from Pansy and anymore curses she had for him.
"I'll take him the rest of the way, actually," Pansy said, stepping between Blaise and Draco.
Blaise ignored her and began walking down the corridor. Draco followed suit.
"Zabini it was not a question," Pansy said from behind, drawing her wand. "I outrank you, and you will do as I instruct." She smiled acidly, her dark eyes shining with anger.
Blaise said nothing, but Draco could tell that he was grinning in front of him. Draco could also feel anger rolling off of Pansy in waves. He smirked while looking down.
Another cruciatus curse hit Draco from behind, and he once again found himself on his knees, every inch of his body crying out in agony. It was as if he could feel his own capillaries bursting in his skin, and his ribs crack from the pressure.
"Finite incantum!" Blaise cast at Pansy, and Draco was released from the curse. "Parkinson, It would appear as though you seem to forget who gives the orders and who follows. The dark lord gave me this order, and I am following it. Perhaps you are familiar with the way this works?" Blaise asked her acidly, every word dripping with sarcasm and contempt. "But, please, if you find yourself dissatisfied with the way things are being run, you should bring this up with the Dark Lord directly." He smirked at her.
Pansy face was red with rage, and her wand hand shook slightly. But Blaise had her there, and there was nothing she could say now that wouldn't not be taken as her directly disobeying Voldemort's orders.
Draco got back to his feet with some effort, and he and Blaise started again down the corridor. Pansy's footsteps let Draco know that she was following them and would not allow herself to be left out of what ever was waiting for Draco.
As they walked, the corridor around dhim started to look less like a dungeon pathway, and more like the school he remembered, tapestries started to appear on the stone walls, and every person in the paintings stared at them as they walked by. A women in 14th century fashion even waved as they passed, though no one waved at her back.
Soon they were on the second floor, having climbed the moving staircases near the great hall. He had hoped to see the great hall, but they hadn't gotten close enough. Draco noted most of the suits of armor that used to line the corridors were all gone, with dusty alcoves sitting empty. They must have been destroyed after the battle, he thought grimly.
Draco also noted that they passed no one else. There were no sounds of students, or professors. No Death Eaters made them selves seen. It felt very eerie. He supposed everyone was ordered to the dorms while he and Hermione were here, which made him all the more nervous.
No one knows we are here, to come help us. The thought blindsided him. He realized no one would rescue him anyways, but he felt a small pang of…guilt? Regret? Sadness? That no one would know Hermione is here to rescue her if her plan went bad. He couldn't even sort through his own feelings. Why should he feel sadness for Hermione anyways? He was certain she didn't feel it for him. Push that thought away, he commanded himself.
Before he could process his thoughts anymore, Blaise was leading him through a wooden door.
"Sit," Blaise commanded, pointing to a wooden chair in an otherwise empty room. Draco sat, and Blaise used his wand to magically tie him to the chair. Blaise also conjured up a plush armchair for himself, and a writing desk, where he promptly sat down and took out a long quill.
Pansy remained in the doorway, and, getting impatient cleared her throat and began tapping her foot. "What are we waiting for?" She asked, almost hissed, and Blaise.
Blaise deigned to answer, instead he just kept writing on a piece of parchment.