Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do own a bunch of reviewers who are angry at me for not updating sooner. Please read the authors note.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm awfully sorry it took me so long to update. It's been pretty crazy over here, what with finishing finals and moving back home. The good news is that the other chapters should be up pretty quickly.
Rachel:
You have been very patient. I'm very sorry.Chicklepea:
lol, hey, I'm slightly sadistic as well (hello, Lord Draco taking
over the earth and finding nuclear weapons?) anyway, sorry it took me
so long to update, but I promise quicker updates here on out
Beccaboo991:
I'm glad you liked the Boggart part, I wasn't sure how people
would respond, thanks for reviewing
Mask:
He's an eccentric dictator; he can wear black pants and brown boots
if he wants
Kely5:
I was originally thinking D/H for the sequel, but I think I would
like to see how Bill responded to a D/G, and I promise a D/H fic sometime in the future
Erre:
I love new readers, especially new readers who review, thank you!
Gremlin:
I did a happy dance last Tuesday when all of my finals were done, and
then I thought of you. Sorry about the long wait.
Dbi626:
Good luck with your finals! And I'm glad you liked the Boggart and
Lucius part, I thought they were pretty important to Draco's
character
Meirta:
Since I wrote Lord Draco, does that mean I'm odd too? Wouldn't
surprise me in the least, lol. Thanks so much for the review, and I'm
glad you liked AtW, though I might have to go edit it sometime
Jess:
I hope your excitement didn't run out because you had to wait so
long, sorry about that. Thanks for reviewing, and yeah, studying
bites!
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Chapter 26
Rule 23: In times of political unrest and upheaval, stay inconspicuous to avoid attention.
By Wednesday at breakfast the last of the parents arrived to take their children home. Among the children picked up was one sixth year Ravenclaw girl who had been home-schooled for the earlier five years. Draco watched as the girl left with her 'mother' though he knew that in reality the girl was actually his cousin Nymphadora Tonks who he had never met. He looked up to the Head Table and met Bill's gaze, raising an eyebrow in question.
Bill had put the coded messages on the board for Tonks to decode, to safely pass what Bill had discovered at Death Eater meetings. Tonks departure could only mean that Bill was no longer spying. He wondered what had happened.
He didn't have time to talk to Bill about it until Ancient Runes after class.
"So, no longer spying, I take it?" asked Draco.
"I had a little run in with a Death Eater," said Bill, pulling out their work on the runes. He turned to Draco with a small grin. "Literally."
"They discovered you," said Draco.
"Not me," said Bill. "They just know that there is a spy attending their meetings, so I've been pulled out."
"How did you escape?" asked Draco.
"Aurors showed up," said Bill. "Stevick must have known where the meeting was and blabbed to them."
"And the mark?" asked Draco.
Bill rolled up his sleeve and showed Draco his left arm. Draco frowned; there was a light gray smudge where the Dark Mark would have been.
"I thought it was invisible," he said, taking a closer look.
"It was," said Bill. "But when we pulled it off of me some ink was absorbed into my skin. It's fading though, because there is no bond to keep it in."
"You could always get a potion," said Draco.
"Eh," said Bill, shrugging. "It'll be gone in a bit. How are your classes going?"
"Alright," Draco said, shrugging as well. "I have to attend the debate between the APR and FPR next week on Wednesday and write a huge essay on it."
"Do all of the neutrals have to write an essay about the debate?" asked Bill.
"Yeah," said Draco. "It's because we're not actually taking part in the debate. I told McGonagall that she should allow the neutrals to have their own side in the debate, but she wants us to 'listen to the debate and come to an informed, logical decision about the issues presented'," said Draco. "She thinks some of us are just saying neutral so we don't have to work at the debate, hence the huge essay."
Bill hid a smile at his sarcastic tone when he quoted McGonagall; Draco caught it anyway.
"And are you staying out of the debate to shirk on work?" Bill asked in a teasing tone.
"Rule twenty-three," said Draco. "In times of political unrest and upheaval, stay inconspicuous to avoid attention."
"Rule twenty-three of what?" asked Bill.
"The code I follow," said Draco, shrugging.
"What code is it?"
"Mine," said Draco. "I'm making it up as I go along."
"And you figure out how to behave according to the code," said Bill.
"Something like it," said Draco. He looked up at Bill's confused expression. "Everyone has a code they follow," he said. "You just don't realize it."
"Explain," said Bill, putting down his paper and looking at Draco thoughtfully.
Draco leaned back a bit in his seat. "People have personal codes," he said. "Potter will rescue someone because it is in his code to act the hero, Dumbledore will try to save everyone because his code believes it is the right thing to do, and the Dark Lord will kill all Mudbloods because that's his law."
"It's called a conscience," said Bill. "Or lack of one."
"Conscience is just a sub-conscious code of right and wrong," said Draco. "Children get certain rules drilled in their heads when they are younger and then when they grow up, those rules are gradually shaped by their own personal beliefs."
"But you can't subject all of your actions to one set of rules," said Bill. "People aren't limited like that."
"Aren't they?" asked Draco. "Snape became a spy because the Dark Lord's actions didn't fit into his code."
"Snape switched because he knew it was wrong," said Bill.
"Because his moral code said it was wrong," said Draco.
Bill shook his head. "People's ideas of right and wrong can be thought of as a code, but people sometimes act without knowing why. They act according to the situation, to what they are feeling at that moment and to that particular event. You can't condense their response to a rule that they follow. It's more than that."
"But the majority of the time, they act according to what they see as the correct way to act, according to a set of rules," said Draco.
"Yes," said Bill slowly. "But again, it's more than a rule. It's personality as well. A friendly person will go up to say hello to a stranger not because they have a rule about doing so, but because they like to meet new people, because they are curious. A shy person will hang back, not because they have a rule about being embarrassed in front of people, but because they don't like the attention."
"So people just act out of feelings and instinct," said Draco. "Just chemical responses in the brain."
"No," said Bill. "People do have moral codes that they personalize, things that they believe are right and wrong, but we can't simplify the act of reaction. It is a complex and amazing process."
"Or maybe you're just an optimist," said Draco, not giving an inch.
"I could say the opposite about you," Bill returned, smiling. "You are most definitely a pessimist."
"More of a realist," said Draco.
Bill snorted and they went back to work.
It wasn't until later that day that Draco realized what this meant. If Bill was no longer spying, then it must not be that big of a secret anymore. Draco's knowledge that he could turn Bill in at any moment if Bill revealed that Draco was a genius was gone. Bill had leverage over Draco now, if he really wanted it.
He shook the notion off. Bill wouldn't do that, and besides, he could always tell the Dark Lord that Bill had been the one to spy on him if Bill did tell. Not that Draco would turn Bill in, but it was a comfort to know that he could, that he was protected.
Late Saturday morning Draco headed over to Hagrid's for his training session with Orion. The thestral had greatly improved, now accepting the saddle meekly and Draco had taken him into the air a little bit last week and was looking forward to it again.
It was warm outside, warm and sunny, so much so that Draco pulled off his school robes, leaving him just in his black riding clothes as he shielded his eyes from the sun. He should have put on a sun-blocking potion. Oh well, he could always whip himself up some sun-burn healing cream afterwards.
He reached the pen, noting that Hagrid was not outside, but not paying it any mind. The half-giant was probably out in the woods somewhere, though he would be back to watch Draco's progress.
Draco hung his school robes on Buckbeak's fence and vaulted the wood posts. Buckbeak clucked happily, walking over to Draco, who had been a constant visitor every Saturday, and butting his shoulder lightly with its feathered head. That was a cry for attention if Draco had ever seen one.
"Needy creature, aren't you?" he asked, obligingly stroking the soft feathers.
Buckbeak squawked in agreement and Draco smirked, walking over to the water trough and emptying it since all that was left was warm, tepid water that was nearly completely evaporated from the sun. He then pumped some fresh water in, all the while Buckbeak hung over his shoulder, occasionally nudging his arm.
"Malfoy! What the hell are you doing?"
It was an angry shout and Draco looked up to see the Golden Trio exiting Hagrid's hut, expressions of disbelief on their faces. Ron was the one who had yelled.
"Something you should be used to, Weasley," said Draco nonchalantly. "Manual labor. Ring any bells?"
Ron looked understandably outraged but Hagrid came out, obviously hoping to diffuse any potentially dangerous confrontations.
"'Lo, Malfoy," he said steadily. "Orion's in the stable. I'll go git 'im fer you."
"Thank you Hagrid," said Draco, just as calmly. He finished pumping the water and turned to Buckbeak, giving him one lat pat before moving towards the fence. As usual, Buckbeak followed him all the way up to the pen. Draco leapt over, ignoring the looks from the Golden Trio as he petted the hippogriff, waiting for Hagrid.
The giant brought out the thestral, already saddled and bridled. Draco brushed past the three Gryffindors and took the reins from Hagrid, guiding the animal into the adjacent pen holding the course. Orion waited patiently as he swung himself onto the animal's back and then urged the beast forward with a slight nudge of his heels in the thestral's sides.
Orion moved off eagerly. He was an energetic animal and now that he was used to Draco riding him around the course, the animal was beginning to enjoy himself.
"Good boy," praised Draco, as they rounded the posts without even the slightest of hitches. They took the jumps next, and then finally Draco let the thestral take the sky in a single bound.
He allowed the smile to slide onto his face because no one was up there to see it. It was truly an amazing feeling, to look down and see the ground slowly shrink away and then look up, and there is nothing but sky and the thestral underneath, beating its powerful wings.
He reached out and stroked Orion's neck, made sure his feet were firmly in the stirrups that were actually more like leg braces, strapping his calves to the saddle so that when rider and thestral went upside down, the rider didn't fall off.
He gently guided Orion into a turn, gradually increasing the severity of the turn so that Orion got used to the pull of the saddle when Draco's weight shifted.
"Alright, boy, you ready for this?" Draco asked Orion. He then pulled on the reins so that they flipped completely upside down into a barrel roll. There was a moment when Orion froze so that Draco was hanging completely vertical, but it was a common glitch and Draco expertly maneuvered the thestral out of it.
He let Orion merely fly for a bit to recover and then rolled them again. This time it went flawlessly and Orion took on the initiative to segue straight into another roll.
Draco grinned, stopping a laugh from escaping his mouth, but then he thought better of it. What had Bill said? That people were friendly merely because of their personality? Well, if they didn't always follow a code, then Draco didn't need to always follow his either, and so Draco laughed, a real, honest-to-goodness laugh and let Orion go into a deep dive, pulling out of it sharply to rise spiraling into the air. This time a whoop of exhilaration left his lips as well as a laugh.
He angled them down for descent when he felt Orion starting to tire and the thestral landed rather well for his first time with a rider.
"Good boy," said Draco, rubbing the thestral's neck and then undoing the straps on the saddle. He dismounted easily, stroking the animal's face and then leading the thestral over to where Hagrid was setting out fresh blood for Orion to drink.
"'e's lookin' well," said Hagrid.
"He's a fast learner," said Draco, rolling his neck slightly to rid the tension. "He'll be ready by summer."
"Putting him in a show already?" asked Bill who was leaning on the fence. He had obviously come to visit Hagrid. Draco glanced around quickly and saw that the Golden Trio had left and was no where in sight.
"He's at the right age," said Draco. He joined Bill at the fence, pulling off his gloves.
"You look happy," observed Bill, and Draco realized that he was still smiling. He frowned slightly at that to Bill's amusement. "You didn't have to stop just because I noticed," said Bill.
"Just because I've picked up some bad habits doesn't mean I'm a complete Gryffindor," said Draco, slightly scathingly, though he didn't mean it offensively. Bill seemed to know that because he only laughed in response.
Draco went up into the castle a while later to change his clothes. While he was pulling on his shoes again, Blaise came in as well, his clothes sopping wet.
"Haven't seen you in a while," said Draco to the other boy, who was hurriedly stripping off the soaked garments.
"Been staying away from Nott," Blaise said shortly. "Him and the rest of the seventh years."
Draco was silent for a moment, debating with himself whether or not to get involved, but he needed to know if the Slytherins were the cause of the boy's soaked clothes. If they had done something, Draco would have to crack down on them.
"Did they have anything to do with your present state?" he asked, trying to sound casual and succeeding.
"No," said Blaise. "Me and Harry threw Ron into the lake, but then Harry turned on me."
Draco raised his eyebrow at that but he didn't comment.
"Have they tried anything recently?" he asked.
"They call me names and what not but they think that you dealt with me that one night earlier this year. They don't even remember what happened."
Blaise turned to look at him, his brows rising meaningfully. Draco turned back to his shoes, not meeting his gaze.
"Obliviate is a rather hard charm," Blaise continued, "but it is useful."
"What's your point, Zabini?" Draco asked, a hard edge to his voice.
"Always be prepared," said Blaise. "Isn't that what Snape is always telling us?"
Draco met his gaze. "So you're saying that I obliviated the six Slytherins who beat the crap out of you for turning blood traitor. Why, Zabini, would I do that?"
Blaise shrugged. "Maybe because we're friends," he said.
"We may be acquaintances, but we are not friends," said Draco, finishing tying his shoes and grabbing his bag. His hand was on the door when Blaise spoke up again.
"You're on the neutral side, even though without you, the APR is going to win, quoting some stupid bullshit about spying on the opposite team, though you're hardly doing that, now are you? You practically saved my life, and then took the blame for beating me up to further your bad boy image. You insult just as many people as ever, but you don't say 'Mudblood' anymore. You tell me we aren't friends, and yet you're wondering if I've been bullied lately. It doesn't work with me, Draco. I've seen under your mask."
Draco closed his eyes, still facing away from Blaise. When he opened them and spoke, it was slowly and without malice.
"It would be best if you forgot about those discrepancies, but I already know you won't do that, so you will not speak of them to anyone, not even your new Gryffindor friends."
He went to turn the door handle, but Blaise stopped him again.
"And when can we be friends?"
Draco paused. "Ask me the day after graduation," he said shortly, and then opened the door and stepped out into the Slytherin common room, a scowl on his face warning everyone away.
He went up to the library, which is where he went for some alone time. People rarely spoke to other people at the library, and given that he was the Slytherin Ice Prince, he was practically guaranteed some privacy, given, of course, that students weren't in a study crazy phase.
He was pleased to find that the library was rather empty for a time so near exams and took a secluded table in the back of the restricted area. He found a new book to read, one on theoretical potions and spent a rather pleasant afternoon there. He was just considering his options of going down for dinner or skipping, when Claire came in the library, looking entirely too composed to be doing nothing but looking for a few books. He watched as she returned two books and then headed over to the restricted area.
Draco quickly ducked behind a shelf, peering through the gaps to see one row over. Claire was skimming through a few books, finally finding the tome she wanted and pulling it out. She flipped through the pages before coming to a halt and reading the page over. She then pulled out a scrap piece of parchment and a quill and scribbled something down. She returned the book to the shelf and left.
Draco waited until the library door shut behind her before walking over to the shelf and pulling out the book she had been looking at, Portkeys to Anywhere: How to Make, Set, and Activate your Portkey. Draco frowned. Something wasn't right here, but for the life of him, he didn't know what.
It wasn't a crime for anyone to learn how to make a portkey, but something was off with the student teacher, he just didn't know what. He went back to his spot, rubbing his temples and staring blankly into space. He felt as if he had all of the puzzle pieces, but he couldn't put them together.
Monday and Tuesday went rather quickly, but whenever Draco was lost in thought, time seemed to fly by quicker than his over active mind. He simply didn't know what could be happening. Stevick was the Death Eater; they had caught him. So why did he feel so uneasy?
"Mr. Malfoy?"
The voice pulled him from his thought and he looked up at Lupin. It was Wednesday afternoon, and he couldn't concentrate on DADA for the life of him.
"We're taking notes, if you would like to take your books out," said Lupin, not unkindly. A few students smothered their laughter, but Draco didn't even glare. He bent down and pulled his things from his bag as Lupin went back to his lecture.
After the lecture Draco went to the library, knowing that he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything as trivial as his sixth year studies, and so he found a couple of old scrolls of Ancient Runes, hoping to find something to help with the runes he and Bill were working on. He gave up, however, once it became apparent that not even the complex algorithms could hold his attention and merely doodled on his parchments. He finally gave into the aggravating voice in his head that told him something wasn't right and went to the shelves and picked up the book Claire had been looking at. He was positive that something completely obvious was staring him in the face.
He gave a frustrated sigh when no inspiration came and put the book back on the shelf then began packing up his things. He had dinner to go to, and then the debate to attend. He picked up his parchment and quills, but in doing so, jarred the spooled-up scroll on the desk. Draco stared blankly at the scroll as it rolled down the table and hit another, the momentum of the first enough to send both it, and the other, across the remaining open space and then they fell off the edge.
It was as if someone had just whispered a lumos charm in a dark closet.
Suddenly it made sense. Stevick hadn't been a Death Eater, not to begin with. Claire was the original Death Eater, that was why she had those slight intonations in her voice, because she wasn't an innocent student teacher. She had somehow influenced Stevick to become a Death Eater as well, and that was how the Aurors had gotten the meeting place from Stevick.
Stevick had been initiated into the Death Eater's ranks as an additional spy a few weeks ago, only to get to Voldemort to receive the Mark, Claire had most likely given Stevick the name of the meeting place so he could Apparate there. No Death Eater was given the name of the meeting place, they were called by Voldemort through the Mark, but to get to Voldemort to get the Dark Mark, either the name of the place was needed or another Death Eater. Claire obviously stayed back so she wouldn't be associated with Stevick, so if one was caught, the other wouldn't be, and Stevick was given the name of the meeting place.
Draco's mind flashed back to when he had been in the infirmary and Stevick had come in with an allergic reaction, scratching his left forearm. He had been allergic to the ink in the Dark Mark. Some people couldn't get tattoos because of allergic responses, and the ink in the Dark Mark was just like a tattoo.
Claire could have figured out that Bill was the spy. Hadn't Bill said that he ran into a Death Eater? If Claire knew, it would make sense why Claire needed to learn how to make a portkey. She couldn't grab him and Apparate; Hogwarts was warded plus Voldemort often warded his residences as well.
Draco bolted, shoving his things into his bag and leaving the scrolls on the floor. They had served their purpose.
Draco knew where Bill would be. The professor was usually in his class grading papers after his Wednesday lessons. He cursed the fact that the school was so large, running from the east wing first floor to the west wing third floor, and cursed the fact that as it was nearing dinnertime, students were mingling around the halls.
He finally made it to Bill's classroom and burst through the door. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Claire's back was to Draco and she was handing Bill a piece of parchment. Bill looked up, startled as Draco ran in, but his fingers were already closing of the paper.
"Bill, don't!" Draco shouted, but it was too late.
He could see Bill's hazel eyes clear in understanding, but a split second later his fingers touched the page and the two disappeared.
Draco skidded to a halt, gasping for air as he stared at the spot his professor had been a minute ago.
"Shit," he said, and that seemed to sum everything up.
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"Could you look at something for me?" Claire asked.
It was after his class on Wednesday and Bill was just finishing up, getting ready to head down to dinner and then the debate afterwards.
"Sure," he said.
Claire came forward, holding out a piece of paper and Bill was momentarily suspicious at her smile. It wasn't her usual seductive one, but he couldn't place the emotion. He remembered what Draco said about not trusting the student teacher and he felt a sudden chill. He shook off the feeling of unease. Stevick had been the Death Eater; Stevick was captured. He was safe.
He reached for the paper just as the door burst open. It seemed to happen so quickly. He could see Draco run in, panic filling his normally guarded eyes as he took in the scene.
"Bill, don't!"
Bill sudden realized that the smile Claire wore was triumphant and that this couldn't be good, and then his fingers brushed the page and he felt the familiar tug of a portkey.
Shit.
He fell when he finally landed because he wasn't prepared for the portkey and the first thing he was aware of was the fact that he was lying on a cold, stone path. He slowly raised his head and took note of his surroundings. He was in the middle of a courtyard of some sort. It looked as if it had once been a castle, but now it had fallen into disrepair. The roof was gone in some areas, and a few walls were slowly crumbling down. He was surrounded by men in dark robes and white masks, though there were considerably fewer of the Death Eaters than in the usual get-togethers, which meant that this was not a normal meeting. He didn't even try to escape; his wand was still on his desk back in Hogwarts.
The mass parted and another figure came forward, one dressed in black and with red glowing eyes. Bill immediately clamored to his feet. There was no way he was going to be caught on the ground in front of Lord Voldemort.
"So, you have caught the spy," said Voldemort to Claire, who was standing beside him. Claire bowed deeply.
"I have, milord," she said.
Voldemort beckoned her forward and laid a hand on her golden hair.
"You have done well," he smiled, his voice like oil. His pale hand slowly stroked down her face and she seemed to relish the touch. "You have made your master proud."
"I live to serve you," she said.
Voldemort smiled at that. "Go and join the others. You shall receive your reward later tonight."
She bowed again and joined the circle. Voldemort stepped in front of Bill, and suddenly Bill felt very afraid.
"Crucio!"
Bill screamed; there wasn't any way he could even hope to keep it in. It was as if his entire being was lit on fire, burning away his flesh and biting into his bones with savage teeth and the only way he could hope to lessen the pain was to scream, but even then, the torture didn't stop.
The curse abruptly ended and he found himself on the ground, gasping for air.
"You have been spying on me," said Voldemort.
It was then that Bill realized how hopeless his situation was. He was captured by the darkest wizard alive and he knew that Bill had been spying on him. He was going to die, this was it.
Bill thought once on Fleur and her gorgeous smile, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him and the way her hair curled around her sweet face. He wondered if she would be alright.
"Crucio!"
He screamed again as the agony filled him, shooting down every nerve as his muscles clenched and convulsed. This time when it ended he had to bite back a sob.
"I said 'you have been spying on me'," hissed Voldemort. "What do you have to say to that?"
For some reason, Bill thought of Draco right then, and what the blond would say when confronted with that question.
"Well, it's about time you figured it out," said Bill. "You're supposed to be all-knowing, aren't you?"
He saw the red eyes flash and suddenly he was screaming again, but this was worse than the other times. This time, he had made Voldemort angry. It was no longer fire shooting over his flesh, but lightning spearing through his body, jerking his body like a marionette. He couldn't breath anymore, his scream dying out as his breath choked off, his chest constricting in agony and he couldn't even think to be alarmed at his lack of breath.
It hurt even after the spell ended, a deep, gut-wrenching ache and he wanted to be sick but he was shaking too hard.
He was jerked to his feet and held there with a spell. Voldemort grabbed his head, staring him deeply in the eyes.
"How?"
It was as if someone was drilling through his brain and the red eyes were boring into his very soul. He pulled up his mental shields just before the memories started coming forth and he could make out Voldemort's snarl of displeasure. The real pain began then. It was as if a snake had wound its way around his brain and was slowly squeezing, tightening, and causing tears to leak out of his eyes as he grunted and tried to keep his barriers strong.
Voldemort was going to break through any minute now, he knew that with a certain dread, and so he put up decoy memories. Draco had theorized that Bill had gotten the Mark off a dead body and while Bill didn't know if that was possible, Voldemort didn't have to be privy to that piece of information.
When Voldemort finally broke through he received a false memory, a memory of Dumbledore performing some odd ritual that Bill didn't understand over a dead Death Eater, and then the Dark Mark being transferred onto his arm.
Voldemort pulled out of his memories.
"What ritual is that?" he demanded.
"I don't know," said Bill truthfully, trying to repair his mental shields.
"Who else is in the Order?"
Bill shut his mouth.
No.
He wasn't giving him that.
He was prepared this time for Voldemort's mind attack. He let the Dark Lord see his memories, the ones he didn't need to protect. He was silent as Voldemort ruffled through his experiences, bringing up the ones that brought him pain, his first time seeing a thestral, attending the funeral they held for Sirius Black. It felt like rape. He was exposed and his thoughts were laid out bare for another to see, but when Voldemort tried searching for information on the Order, he came up against a black box.
Snape had taught him that one. It was a trick used by Occlumens when coming up against a powerful Legilimens. Let them see everything but what you need to protect, focus the energy on keeping only the essentials secret. And it worked. Voldemort couldn't see in.
Bill only had time for a brief period of exultation before Voldemort threw him to the ground, bending over him to whisper in his ear.
"You are stubborn," he said. "But you won't hold out for long."
The hot, putrid breath left his ear and he could hear Voldemort calling a few Death Eaters over.
"I need him alive," said Voldemort. "That is my only requirement."
Somehow 'shit' just didn't sum that up.
He watched as three large Death Eaters came at him and roughly hauled him to his feet. They dragged him into the castle which was empty, save the rats and spiders, and he struggled the entire way. If he could break free now, he might be able to make a run for it. The Death Eaters seemed to know what he was thinking though, because the two holding him tightened their grip and the other followed them with his wand drawn.
Not surprisingly they went to the dungeon which was lit with torches in brackets along the walls.
"Get the potion," growled the one on his left to the man who was trailing them.
Bill did not like the sound of that. He knew that Snape made a lot of the potions for the Death Eaters, and Bill knew that he was a very good potion maker and had no desire to sample the products. He didn't get a choice though.
One of the Death Eaters grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms and grabbing his hair to yank his head back. The other pried open his jaw with bruising fingers and poured the potion in. He was so expertly held that he didn't even have the chance to struggle and once the potion was in his mouth, the hand jammed his jaw shut.
He tried not to swallow, he really did, but the potion was burning his mouth and he choked it down reflexively, and immediately wished he hadn't. It was as if his blood was boiling, running into every single part of his body, and he screamed. His brain was on fire now too, his body convulsing as he lost control. He couldn't see; a film of red blocked his view but he could feel his captor laughing behind him and suddenly he was falling, hit hard ground with a crack that made him cry out again, but the ground was cool, blessedly cool. He found that the red was clearing in his vision and the pain slowly fading.
He curled up as his stomach lurched, the potion spewing from his mouth as his stomach rejected it, and he found he couldn't stop heaving even after his stomach was empty. He retched again, this time bringing up red blood that sizzled when it hit the cold stone. He stared at it dumbly. Sweet Merlin, his blood had been boiling. He retched again at that thought.
A booted foot caught his side and he bit back a grunt.
"Feel like talking, blood traitor?" said the man who had kicked him.
For some reason, that one act caused him to feel calmer. He could cope with this; they weren't getting anything. He spat out a bit of blood.
"Don't count on it," he said, glaring at them defiantly and struggling to his feet.
He couldn't see their faces, but he could imagine the cold, malicious smiles and the evil glints in black eyes.
"Good," the Death Eater said.
He didn't even see the fist coming.
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Again, sorry it took so long to update, and sorry about the rather abrupt ending, but things are finally happening! Review, and I'll get the next chapter up ASAP!
