I'm sorry I haven't updated in quite a while, i was in a pretty bad place and then I got super super sick. I'm still a little sick so excuse errors and please help me correct them!
Oh. My. God. Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod.
FUCKING HELL!
FUCK!
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
Harry. Fucking. Potter. Had. Been. Kidnapped. And. He. Draco. Malfoy. Had. To. Save. Him.
How had his life come to this? When had his life become so crazy? Um, his mind told himself, it had always been crazy. But why Potter? Um, his mind told himself again, everything with you is about Potter.
And it was true, everything was about Potter, had been since before Hogwarts. When he overheard his parents ranting about a baby, a baby who defeated the Dark Lord, Draco had little boy fantasies about meeting said boy and becoming best friends with him. When he finally met Potter, at the robe shop first and then the train later, Draco had been a little disappointed. There was no way his scrawny thing could possibly be the Harry Potter. Harry Potter was supposed to be handsome, strong and proper, not awkward and muggle. Still, Draco offered his hand, and then he was denied. A Malfoy was never denied.
Draco swore revenge.
But there was more to it. Draco loved bringing the fire to Harry's eyes, it was just so damn addicting. He just burned so brightly, rage and anger practically oozing out of his body. And Draco loved that it was him bringing out these emotions.
Draco supposed he had always been in love with Potter, starting as an awe filled crush, to a raging hate due to denial, to where ever he was right now. But he had truly accepted the fact that he was in love with Potter in fourth year, when he saw Potter dancing (If you could even call it that) with that wretched Gryffindor girl. However, that doesn't mean he reacted well to it, as Blaise, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle could all tell you.
Draco was once again struck by the immune feeling of hopelessness, because now the man Draco was in love with, the saviour of the wizarding world, had been kidnapped by Death Eaters, a group in which Draco had formally been a part of.
How could he save him? With no wand? Draco felt anxiety creeping up his spine. No. Nonononono. He would not be having a panic attack right now, not in a time of great need.
Okay. What did his mother always tell him? Oh god, his mother (Don't think about her, Draco, crying in the middle of the woods will do no good). Find four things, Draco, four things you can feel. Draco sat heavily on the ground. He gripped the soft grainy dirt, one thing. A sharp pine needle poked his finger, and Draco jerked slightly, two things. Leaning against a tree, the bark itched through his sweatshirt, three things. His feet ached against his slightly pinchy shoes, four things.
He could still feel it though, that horrible feeling rising in his stomach. It tingled and Draco felt his entire body shake. Three things you can hear, that's what he needed to find next. A bird whistled in the distance, high pitched and sharp, one thing. (Potter screaming at him, RUN! Draco being a coward, like he always was and running for his life, the look of Potter's defeat etched into his eyes). The wind, bristling through the trees, the pine needles seemingly like bells, two things. Once, Draco had been grateful for the peaceful silence of the woods, but now it pressed against him, weighed on his shoulders. ONE MORE THING DRACO! Um... um... Draco's own breath, that counted right? Draco concentrated on making his frantic puffs even, until he felt his body slouch and calm, three things.
Next was two things you can smell. The pine needles, that was an obvious one, they smelled sharp and quiet, nothing like those ridiculous muggle scent things, one thing. One more, Draco, you can do it. A softer smell, the dirt, it was faint but blatantly there, rushing into Draco's nose with every breath, two things.
Now dear, his mother had always told him, Now that you are calmed down some, think of one positive thing about the situation (Oh Merlin, I miss you so much mother. As soon as I rescue Potter, I will avenge your death). But what was a positive thing about this situation? Without warning, a solution to his question slammed into him. He was on the right side, the good side, with the man he loved. He was doing the right thing, and it felt utterly horrible, but at least a tiny bit better then doing the wrong. Oh, Merlin, he was a good guy (No you're not, you're an asshole doing the right thing (True, Draco thought to the Potter inside him).).
Draco promptly started crying. Contrary to popular belief, Draco was not an elegant, single tear sliding down the cheek crier. He was an ugly, puffy eyes, full out baller. Tear after wretched tear pushed their way out. Wanting to scream, Draco controlled himself, who knew, the Death Eaters could still be out there. The one positive side of crying was that afterwards, his mind felt clearer, which was perhaps why he cried so much during sixth year.
Draco's mind formed a plan, a risky, no chance plan, but still a plan. He, wandless and weak, would sneak into the camp, talk to that old women and find Potter. Then rescue him of course. Dear Merlin, he thought, We're all doomed.
/*/*/*/*/*
Harry had never felt more exposed then he was right now, and the only piece of clothing missing was his shirt. The smart one had taken one look at his scars and promptly said, "We don't have to torture him, because he's enjoy it. We just have to leave him here and he'll torture himself, isn't that right?"
Harry, ever so the hero, had yelled a few particular words bad enough that not even me, the author, is willing to write. (That's write (get it) I broke the fourth wall) The two goons laughed evilly like the henchmen they were (They reminded Harry of Crabbe and Goyle) and the trio had left.
Now he was sitting in silence, and it pressed against him, threatening to crush him. This was not how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to torture him, and then kill him, and he would forever be remembered as a hero.
Instead, they had left his thoughts to destroy him. And destroying him they were.
Harry ached for a blade.
They had chained him up, in a way that wasn't uncomfortable, but it wouldn't allow him to punch himself. He had an itch on his stomach, Harry wanted to scratch it till it bled.
Was Draco okay? Harry hoped he was, desperately. Since when did he care about the git so much?
Harry glanced around at the dark prison he was in, with nothing to look at or nothing to do but think. He needed pain, but he couldn't even touch himself.
Slowly, Harry's thoughts consumed him.
/*/*/*/*/*
Hermione didn't think the bad feeling could get worse, but get worse it did. She and Ron had both gotten it, suddenly and together. They turned to each other instantly, a single word on their tongue.
Harry.
/*/*/*/*/*
Draco had always prided himself in being smartly Slytherin. He had always thought that had he been the hero, rather then Potter, he would have defeated the Dark Lord much sooner, as he would have been smart rather then brash, willing to make the necessary sacrifice. Perhaps it was better that Potter was the hero however, because Draco would have likely been the next Dark Lord.
But here he was, being so utterly Gryffindor and rushing into things like bloody Potter. Perhaps it was because it was Potter who he was saving?
Draco was currently spying on the village, trying to spot the old woman. His hood was up, concealing his bright blond hair.
The village seemed normal from a distance, too normal in fact. Would this have been his life if Potter hadn't defended him? No, he'd be in Azkaban.
There. He spotted the woman cowering as she stumbled into her home. Why was this woman here? The Death Eaters had probably taken over the village, allowing a few to survive. Draco snuck forwards, grateful for all the nights he and his friends had practiced the very skill.
The soft dirt made no sound as he crept behind the ramshackle houses towards the one the elderly women just entered. Oh thank Merlin, there was a back door, and oh praise Merlin, it was unlocked. Maybe by pure luck he would be able to get Potter back.
The inside of the house was dirty and quaint, and Draco automatically felt disgusted. Didn't someone ever clean the house? And there was the woman, sagging sadly against a dusty chair.
"Ma'am?" He asked, trying not to scare her.
The old woman jerked up, pointing a knife in front of her, "Who's there? Fuckin reveal yourself or I'll slice you in half!" Oh dear god, Draco thought, she's Scottish.
Draco stepped out into the light, taking off his hood to reveal blond hair. "Oh, it's you. Didn't I tell you to run?!"
"My friend, he got captured-"
"Oh, he's probably dead then. Sorry for your loss. Now get the hell out of you before you get killed too!" Draco found himself disliking the women more and more, although he did respect her, as she was surviving in a town controlled by Death Eaters.
"Even if he is dead," (You despicable woman, he felt like adding), "I need to find him."
"Ohhhhh, I see," She cackled, finally putting the knife away, "You're in love with him!"
Draco scoffed, "What?! No. I'm not... No!"
Her wrinkly face upturned into a smug smile, "Yes, you are."
Throwing his arms up, Draco exclaimed, "Fine! Why does this matter?"
"No reason, but I'm a sucker for love," she laughs, "Can't help it. So I'll tell you where your man is, if he is alive, but you have to promise to send help when you escape."
Draco nodded. "We will. I promise."
"You fuckin' better." She leaned back, "You'll need a lock pick, just in case he's locked up." Draco saw her grab something from her pocket, "Do you know how to work it?" she indicated to the lock pick she held in her hand.
"Of course-"
"Good, now he's being held six houses to the right, and he may be guarded. Good luck lad, you'll need it."
"Thank you," Draco said, sneaking out the backdoor and away from that god awful accent. The next minutes were a blur of silence and sneaking, anxiety fluttering in his stomach. Surprisingly, there were no guards, and Draco was able to enter easily into the dark room.
He saw Harry sitting there, his face empty and dark, body covered in scars. Merlin, Potter. Potter's body was muscular and fit, the tan body covered in little pink lines. Draco recalled back at Hogwarts, how he had always been scrawny at the beginning of the year, but soon became muscular and fit. He had always thought it odd that Potter was scrawny at all, wasn't the saviour supposed to be spoiled rotten. No time to ponder, Draco, time to save the love of your miserable little life.
/*/*/*/*/*
"Potter?" Harry thought he heard, but no that was probably just his mind, trying to destroy him. "Potter!"
Harry jerked his head up, and there was Draco, blond hair covered by that hoodie that had caused him so much pain. "Draco?"
Suddenly Draco was unlocking his chains with a - muggle lock pick? "You didn't leave me?"
Draco looked at him, pink lips so perfect, "I was about to, you insufferable prat, but I need you to survive. Unfortunately."
Harry's emptiness and depression was filled with something like happiness, "Thanks," he replied sarcastically. Suddenly, he thought, his scars! What was Draco thinking? He hurriedly covered himself in shame. "Shirt?"
Draco smirked at him, "I don't know Potter, I like you better shirtless," Harry felt his face warm, "But you are going to explain each of those scars to me later, you prat, understand?"
No, nononono please don't make me do this, Harry thought to himself, "Let's just go."
The two boys rushed silently as possible through the empty house/prison, Harry's thoughts roaring. What if he hates me? What if he finds me disgusting? Well of course he's going to find you disgusting, you are disgusting. Nope, concentrate on escape Harry, at least getting Draco out and heroically dying in the process.
And then they were out of the house, and so close to the woods. He pushed Draco in front of him, through the trees, whispering "Run!" Draco did run, thinking the brunet was right behind him, his footsteps soft and faint. But Harry stayed, ready to die, as long as Draco was safe, and a Death Eater saw him. Finally, Harry thought. Then Draco turned around, and Harry panicked. "RUN!" he screamed frantically, but Draco stayed.
Goddamnit Draco, Harry thought, and saw the Death Eater pointing a wand at him, "RUN!" Harry screamed, turning to face whatever spell the Death Eater would fire at him. The light shined blissfully through the trees. What a nice way to die, he thought. Seeing the faint light of the spell pelting towards him, he turned around to give his last words to the blond man now running at him like the idiot he was, "I lo-"