Harry made small talk with Hermione while he waited for Ron to turn up. It wasn't long before she gave him a sigh and a headshake. "Out with it. What's bothering you?"
He frowned at her perception, although he should have expected it. "They took Malfoy somewhere and I don't know where or why. Ron and Seamus disappeared before I could ask, although Ron has to know I'll not be satisfied with being put off." He repeated Seamus' words to her and then made a petulant face. "He said it was 'need to know' and why would I not need to know, for Merlin's sake? I'm the only one Malfoy trusts. It's why he dragged me back to the Ministry in the first place."
"I thought you were done with the Aurors. It certainly seemed like you were happier, before Malfoy turned up."
"I thought I was. But now… I don't know." Harry was tired of thinking about his life. He hadn't been able to shut off his brain where Eddie was concerned, half-ready to blurt out questions whenever they were together, and demanding to know whether Eddie had had ulterior motives prior to their first date. And then there was Malfoy. Malfoy and his naked bum and his ready humour, and his kisses, and Harry's growing attraction.
"Tell me."
Harry shook his head. "It could be Malfoy playing me for a fool. I never know what he's doing from one minute to the next and everything he does is calculated. His life is like a chessboard and he seems to have everything planned five moves in advance of everyone else. Although I don't think he saw this one coming. He was just as surprised as I was when Ron took him away. He was in the middle of…" In the middle of some illegal forgery operation, as far as Harry could tell. He considered going back to the Beauvois mansion and questioning Consuelo, but he doubted she would have any information beyond what Malfoy had told her, and even that might be difficult to extract. Malfoy tended to inspire loyalty in his followers.
Harry remembered Agatha happily diluting potions for Malfoy and his gentle words. I do what I can. Damn it, Harry wasn't supposed to admire him, on top of everything else.
"I should be involved, though. If he's in danger. Seamus said someone is after him. I need to know who it is. Last time someone was after Malfoy, Eddie ended up in St Mungo's."
"And how is Eddie?"
"Improving." Harry paused and then blurted, "How do you feel about Eddie? Do you think he's good for me? Do you sense anything… off about him? Or anything?" He didn't really know how to put it into words.
"What do you mean? He seems fine. Are you two having issues?" Hermione frowned and waited, but Harry couldn't put his suspicion into words, especially when he had no proof other than a handful of photos and some newspaper clippings. "I mean, we thought you were moving a bit fast when you moved in with him, but since you seemed happy enough, I supposed it was fine. I've never sensed anything off about him, certainly. I'm not sure what you're asking."
Harry gave her a wan smile. He and Eddie hadn't moved quickly at all, although she didn't know that. They hadn't even had sex, even though that was supposed to change during their upcoming weekend away. "No, we're not having problems. Just the opposite, actually." He shook his head. "I'm just being stupid. And it has nothing to with this problem. I want to know where they took Malfoy and I want to know why. I plan to stay here until I shake it out of Ron."
She grinned. "Well, then. I suppose I'll make us some tea, since you'll apparently be here for a while. I think we have some chocolate biscuits that Ron hasn't located yet." He followed her to the kitchen and helped her ransack the pantry while they waited.
oOo
Blaise Zabini turned up before Ron, banging on Hermione's door and striding through in a manner disturbingly reminiscent of Malfoy. Harry wondered if it was an affectation learned by proximity to Malfoy or if it was an inherent quality gained by being in Slytherin house. As annoying as Snape had been during Harry's boyhood, he had to admit the man had possessed an undeniable presence.
"Granger, apparently your husband has whisked Draco away to some mysterious safe place and he strongly suggests that Pansy and I hide out for the duration. And by that, of course, he means that we should locate him as quickly as possible because the incompetence of the Ministry knows no bounds, and he would be safer walking the streets of Diagon Alley in our company than locked up in some hideaway. I'm hoping you can help us locate him before Crabbe does. He is not to be taken lightly."
"Crabbe? Vince's father?"
"Unless there is another Crabbe that has become an international menace to society and loathes Draco with a deep and abiding passion?"
"Why would he be after Draco now? He's had years to attempt revenge."
"I don't pretend to know the minds of madmen, Potter. Your bosses have decided that Crabbe is seeking Draco and it's our job to protect him at any cost. We can't do that unless we know where he is, and he doesn't know, so he can't tell us."
"Yeah, well I don't know where he is either. How did you know I was here?"
Blaise flashed a bright smile. "Draco might not know where he is, but he always knows where you are."
Hermione tsked and muttered something about Harry being so predictable it was a wonder he wasn't dead already. "I heard that," Harry said with a sharp stare.
"Well, I suppose I'll make more tea."
In the end, after four pots of tea and a distinctly growing awkwardness to the conversation, Ron sent a message stating that he wouldn't be home that night. Harry read the note, balled it up, stamped on it, and then kicked it into the fire.
Hermione was much calmer. "Goodnight, Harry. I'll send you a message if he comes home." She yawned and waved him towards the Floo. With no reason to stay, Harry bid her goodnight and reached for the Floo Powder. He realised that Zabini was crowded close behind him.
"Where are you going?"
"With you, Potter. Where you go, I go."
"But I'm going—" He nearly said "to Eddie's house" but caught himself in time. "Home."
"I assume you have a sofa and I have Silencing Charms. You can loudly shag to your heart's content and I shall sleep like a babe, unless someone trips the wards and then I shall come awake and try not to hex your boyfriend in the crossfire."
"You're definitely not coming home with me."
"Harry. Please argue elsewhere. I'm exhausted and I have a thousand things to do tomorrow." Hermione yawned again and tapped her foot impatiently.
"You won't be able to get in, anyway. The Floo is closed to all but a few people and the wards won't let you in."
"Oh, I'll get in, Potter. You won't like it and it will take me a while, but I will get in." Zabini had a wild light in his eyes and Harry could picture him standing outside the door casting spell after spell and hammering away at the wards, preventing sleep in the best case, and waking everyone in a two kilometre radius at worst.
"Bloody hell, I have a bone to pick with Malfoy over this. Wait here and I'll tune the wards to let you through. Goodnight, Hermione."
Zabini looked so smug that for a moment he strongly resembled his boss at his most annoying. Harry clenched his teeth and stepped through the fireplace.
oOo
Eddie was not understanding.
Harry frantically tried to come up with a plausible excuse for Zabini's presence whilst Eddie glared daggers at them both.
"It's a long story," Harry said lamely. "Blaise just needs a place to crash for the night."
"He's never heard of a hotel?"
"It involves a case." That was obliquely true, Harry rationalised and then he winced because that word would definitely not cause Eddie's rage level to decrease.
"Of course it does."
"Where is your little boy's room, Potter?"
Harry gestured Zabini down the hall with a wave. "First door on the right." As Zabini headed that direction, Harry turned and went into the kitchen. Eddie was right behind him. Harry braced himself for the explosion. "It's just for tonight. He'll sleep on the sofa and I'll get rid of him tomorrow. I'm too tired to argue about this now."
"Are we still going away this weekend or are you planning to cancel because of this case?"
Harry turned and took both of Eddie's hands. "Of course I'm not going to cancel. I'm looking forward to it. Have you chosen a place?"
Eddie resisted Harry's grip for a moment, and then he relaxed. "Yes. I've made all the arrangements, but it's a surprise. I'm not telling you where."
Harry smiled and pushed away a twinge of misgiving. He made a mental note to ransack the flat and see if he could locate evidence of Eddie's plans. It was one thing to be surprised and it was another to be blindsided. He wanted to trust Eddie, but Malfoy's warnings, coupled with the dossier photos, kept prodding him to caution. He would prefer to be safe than sorry.
"Do I get twenty questions?" he asked teasingly. "Is it near water?"
Eddie pursed his lips and leaned in for a kiss. "Hmmm. I suppose, although I reserve the right not to answer if you get too close. And yes, it is near water."
Harry kissed him back, and then stepped away when Zabini appeared in the doorway.
"Would you like some tea?" Eddie asked Zabini as his hands slipped out of Harry's grasp. His tone was polite and no longer antagonistic.
"No. Thank you."
"I'll get you some blankets," Harry said and escaped the kitchen to locate some linens. That had gone easier than expected. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Eddie later retired to his bedroom and Harry watched as Zabini transfigured a couple of sofa pillows into soft, feathery bundles that looked far nicer than those adorning Harry's bed. "Potter," Zabini said in a low tone as he leaned close. "There is one thing that Draco managed to slip into the note he sent to us. I haven't had a chance to tell you, alone, until now. I was hoping Weasley would turn up with real information. Draco managed to conceal one word. It said 'ruins'."
"Ruins." Harry sat back and sent his thoughts winging through his mental list of known safe houses. How many of them were disguised as ruins, or isolated in ruins? Several, he realised.
"I'll make a list and we can start checking them out in the morning."
"Brilliant."
"Goodnight, Zabini."
"Goodnight, Potter. Happy shagging."
Harry gave him an absent sneer and didn't bother to correct his assumption as he went to his own room. He was already thinking about safe houses.
18th July, 2005 - Monday
Harry tried to be as quiet as possible as he made tea. Zabini appeared in the doorway before he finished adding water to the teapot; he looked too-alert to be real, considering the time.
"I thought we'd get an early start," he said quietly and handed Zabini a mug. Zabini nodded. A look passed between them and it was obvious they both wanted to escape the flat before Eddie awakened. Harry had considered taking Zabini to Grimmauld Place—it would have made things easier—but in the end he'd decided that Eddie would have been more upset at being "abandoned".
Before he left, Harry detoured to his bedroom and picked up the small figure of Mercury Horowitz from his bedside table. It wouldn't hurt to have a lucky charm. Just in case. He tucked the Quidditch figure into his pocket and felt her squirm for a bit before she found a comfortable position.
He and Blaise took the Floo to a café just off Diagon Alley. There they drank more tea and ate a quick breakfast before stepping out onto the cobbled street.
"We'll start with the safe houses nearest to London and range out from there." Harry suspected they would recognise the location when they found it by the strength of the wards. It would be obvious the moment they tried to get inside.
There weren't many safe houses built around ruins in and around London proper, so Harry was forced to take them farther and farther out. He had to Side-along Zabini and after the fifth Apparition he debated leaving him behind. Only the hard, determined glint in Zabini's dark eyes kept him from suggesting it. Whatever Harry might say about Malfoy, he certainly had inspired loyalty in his former school chums. Zabini seemed willing to do whatever it took to find Malfoy.
It was late afternoon before they found the place. They had only stopped searching for a short lunch break, and Harry was worn ragged from the constant strain of Apparition. It was with immense relief that he beheld the sight of the ancient, crumbling castle.
"This is it," he said and nearly kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. The Lockbox. As safe houses went, it was one of the securest. The place was built like a bloody fortress with a warren of underground passages and solid, stone-walled rooms.
"How do you know?" Zabini asked. He looked as tired as Harry felt.
As soon as the words registered, Harry gripped his wand tighter as a chill realisation swept over him. "Because the wards are down. Something is wrong." He started forwards, but Zabini's hand clamped onto his arm, halting him.
"Call Pansy. I want her here."
Harry nodded and cast a Patronus. Time seemed to tick away endlessly as they waited for Parkinson to arrive, even though Harry used it to get closer and try to determine what had happened. He quelled the urge to rush inside, knowing that caution was the wisest option. The fact that the wards were completely down was alarming; every safe house in Britain maintained at least rudimentary wards to keep wandering wizards from moving in and establishing squatter's rights, or simply stealing anything not nailed down.
Parkinson finally appeared, looking surprisingly practical in sturdy-looking robes and low-heeled boots. The black embroidery on the midnight blue robes gave evidence of the quality and cost, but at least she wasn't dressed like a flash shop clerk.
"What's the plan, Potter? Do you think Draco is in there?"
"I don't know. It doesn't look good, so stay alert and be ready for anything. If Crabbe is inside, we can only hope he hasn't breached the centre. It's possible Kingsley and the others have already moved him, in which case we'll need to hurry and try to determine where they went."
Parkinson only nodded and pulled her hood over her black hair. Zabini flashed him a tight, humourless grin. Harry readied himself, lifted his wand, and started into the ruins.
oooOooo
Draco was midway through a game of chess with Weasley when the alarm sounded.
"Ha!" Weasley crowed. "Got your bishop. You're going down, Malfoy."
Before Draco could drawl a retort—Weasley was a bloody fine chess player, although his technique was unsurprisingly Gryffindorish, straightforward and without much finesse—a sharp flash of light pulsed through the room, followed by a Patronus that sent Weasley scrambling out the door with a barked, "Stay here!"
Draco, of course, had no intention of staying, especially if Crabbe was coming for him. He felt like a rat in a cage trapped in the bloody Ministry "safe house" when he knew he'd be safer with the ability to put thousands of kilometres between himself and Crabbe, at least until whatever had driven him to seek out Draco had been determined. Not for the first time, Draco cursed himself for allowing them to lure him into such a simple trap.
An explosion sounded from somewhere above and Draco swore roundly. He needed to find a wand and get the hell out of here. "'Most trusted staff,'" he mocked venomously. "'The odds are astronomical.'"
He passed through the large chamber with the interrogation circle at a dead run. He could hear Weasley shouting at someone and caught the word "Shacklebolt."
"I don't know!"
Draco entered the passage to see Weasley and an Auror Draco that didn't know. They both looked frantic.
"They won't get through the barrier," the other Auror said, but it sounded more like a question.
"Let's fucking hope not. Malfoy, I told you to stay put."
"Stay in my cell and wait for Crabbe to come for me? No, thank you. We need to get out of here. What's the fastest way out?"
Weasley gave him a headshake and the other Auror looked indecisive. Another thump sounded overhead and dust trickled down, salted with pebbles and insect carcasses. Draco swiped a hand over his hair, a half-hearted attempt to ward off any falling spiders. Weasley batted wildly at his ginger hair, eyes casting upwards. "We need to stay here. This is the safest place."
"Can you not bloody hear what's going on up there? Now where is the back way out?"
"There is no back way!" Weasley's voice was strident. He smacked at his hair again and shuddered, seeming more concerned about falling arachnids than the certain death coming for them.
"What kind of ridiculous safe house doesn't have an escape route?"
"I don't know! Maybe it does! No one told me!"
Draco glared at him and at the sheer idiocy that had prevented Shacklebolt from letting the Head Auror in on the floorplan. Weasley's hot stare fought back.
"We thought we had time."
"As you can hear, we don't have time, so I suggest you utilise what tiny bits of brain tissue you carry around in that cranium of yours to find us a way out this death trap."
The other Auror looked nervous, gaze tracking from Draco to Weasley. "They can't get in, can they, Ron?"
Weasley made a scoffing sound. "Of course they can't—" His words were cut off by a thunderous BOOM and Draco dove to the ground. He heard a muffled scream through the clatter of rocks and the sliding of stones on the ground. Draco's ears were ringing and his vision blurred as he picked himself up. A thick fog of dust made breathing difficult and he gasped for air, coughing painfully with each exhalation. He heard a groan, followed by a spasm of coughing and pushed his way towards it. His right arm ached and a trickle of something dribbled down his cheek. Probably blood.
Draco reached Weasley, who lay half-buried by stones. Draco gripped him by the lapels and hauled him partially upright. "Weasley," he growled, "are you alive?"
"No." Weasley's voice was a weak rasp. Draco scanned for Weasley's wand and located it a short distance away, jutting from a tangle of stones and a splintered wooden beam. Voices sounded from beyond the coalescing dust, and footsteps. Draco snatched up Weasley's wand and looked around for the other Auror.
"We have to move. Shake it off and get up."
"Can't. My leg is buried. Where is Wilson?"
The dust was beginning to settle and Draco saw that Weasley was right; his legs were caught in rubble. With a snarl, Draco set about Levitating the stones aside, moving as quickly as possible. Weasley's wand did not seem to like him; the magic was sluggish and pitiful. A particularly large rock rolled away instead of floating and Weasley screamed before his head lolled back; he looked unconscious, or dead.
The voices were getting louder and Draco felt a spike of panic. He needed Weasley to figure locate a way out. Chances were good he'd been lying before about another exit, thinking they were safe behind the huge stone door and desperate to keep Draco inside.
"Don't die yet, Weasley." Draco reached down and grabbed him by the collar to haul him bodily out of the debris. As he did no, he nearly tripped over something squashy and glanced down to see a forearm. His gaze tracked over elbow joint and shoulder to recoil at the sight of the other Auror—Wilson—whose head had been staved in by a large boulder. Nothing beyond his ruined head and one arm were visible.
A shout tore Draco's attention from the dead Auror and he cast a Protego just in time to deflect a red bolt.
"Take them alive!" someone yelled.
Draco cast, not bothering to hold back. The Avada Kedavra sent his attacker falling into the rocks. At the same time, he heaved, pulling Weasley along and cursing the man's predilection for food. Weasley could stand to lose a couple of stone, for certain.
Draco cast a Levitation Charm to speed the process, and then sent several more deadly green bolts down the corridor to give their pursuers pause. The first one through would be the first to fall; it was obvious none of them were willing to take that chance.
"Get in there!"
Draco thought he recognised Crabbe's voice. It was hard to tell by the volume. He moved faster, pulling Weasley along at a fast trot, not stopping until they reached the chamber with the rune-circled dais. Draco dragged him across the runic line and then let go. An uneven trail of blood gave evidence of their path; Weasley had a spear of wood jutting through his upper thigh.
"Weasley, wake up. Ennervate!"
Weasley's eyes snapped open at the spell and then Draco sent two more Killing Curses at the hapless fools that rushed through the broken portal and into the chamber.
"What is the incantation to activate the circle?" Draco demanded.
Weasley whimpered, but he reached up and took his wand before mumbling something that Draco didn't quite catch. A bright blue glow surrounded them for a moment before fading away. The sigils on the floor gleamed with fiery blue lines and Draco heaved a sigh of relief when a spell bolt pinged against the invisible barrier and ricocheted away.
"Can anything get through these wards?"
Weasley shook his head. His face was so pale that his freckles stood out like blood-spatter. Some of it was blood spatter, Draco realised. Weasley was peppered with cuts and contusions. Draco glanced at the spear of wood through Weasley's leg. That needed to come out, but it would likely result in a gush of blood that could easily kill him.
"No. It even blocks the Killing Curse. Nothing in, nothing out. "
Draco nodded. No personal defensive spells could block the Killing Curse, but several Warding Charms could. They were built with more intricate magic, tightly-woven, multiple spells. "What about air?"
"We're good there. Ventilation duct in the floor lets in air."
"So we sit tight." Until Weasley died of blood loss. Draco glanced at the passageway where several robed figures were clustered, taking turns sending spells at the warding circle. Draco's eyes narrowed as one of them shoved through the others, moving with a determined stride. Draco nearly rolled his eyes when he noticed the polished Death Eater mask gleaming from within the black folds of the man's hood. Nice touch, he thought dryly.
Draco got to his feet and watched the man approach. When he stood on the other side of the glowing barrier, he reached up and pushed back the hood before removing the mask to reveal Virgil Crabbe's mottled, glaring face. "Hello, Draco."
oOo
Weasley had passed out again. Draco took the opportunity to yank off Weasley's tie and fasten it tightly around his thigh as a tourniquet. With luck it would slow the blood flow and keep Weasley from dying until someone managed to rescue them.
While Draco worked, Crabbe and his goons systematically sent spell after spell at the warding circle, which had no effect other than causing the runes to glow more brightly. Draco suspected they were sustained by magic and anything sent against it merely made the wards stronger.
Draco yanked the sliver of wood out of Weasley's leg and tossed it aside. Blood seeped from the wound, but did not gush, thanks to his preventative measures. He sent a spray of water into the wound and it caused Weasley to moan and thrash even in his unconscious state. A Severing Charm removed a length of Weasley's Auror robes and Draco cut them into strips—ragged and uneven thanks to Weasley's wand fighting him every step of the way. Draco cast as many Healing Charms as he could remember, which helped to slow the bleeding, but had little additional effect on so severe a wound. They weren't as efficacious as they could have been. Using Weasley's wand was an exercise in patience.
As he bound the strips around Weasley's bloody thigh, Crabbe's voice bounced through the circle, amplified by the communications globe that sat on the small table next to the chair. Weasley lay on the floor before the dais, but Draco had retrieved one of the pillows from the seat to cushion Weasley's head. He wasn't completely without compassion, after all, even towards a Weasley.
Doesn't matter at all that he's Harry's best friend, his conscience prodded in a dry tone. "Of course not," he muttered to himself.
"…can't stay in there forever, Draco. In fact, here comes the person who will release you from your little cage now."
Draco shot a glance at Crabbe, whom he'd been vainly ignoring, and then looked at the passageway with a sinking feeling. Escorted by two rough-looking wizards was Kingsley Shacklebolt. Draco's cursed under his breath. Their chances of escape had just taken a turn for the worse.
"Well, well, well. Who have we here but the Minister for Magic. And I didn't think Draco warranted more than a few shoddy Aurors. Perhaps the brat is worth more than I anticipated."
"How is Weasley, Malfoy?" Shacklebolt called.
"Alive." He wanted to elaborate, to let them know exactly how urgently Weasley needed a healer, but to do so would place even more weapons in Crabbe's hands. And Shacklebolt did not exactly look in a position to assist.
"Weasley?" Crabbe wandered back to the circle and peered at Weasley. "So it is. The blood-traitor is better off dead, but you seem fond of the tainted ones, yeah, Kingsley? If you want to save your Auror you'd best open this circle."
"Draco Malfoy is under my protection. I refuse to hand him over to the first two-knut bully to muscle his way into this facility."
Crabbe spun and Draco could tell by the set of his shoulders that he wanted to lash out. Crabbe was unstable, but probably not stupid enough to kill the Minister. Indeed, Crabbe marched up to Shacklebolt and stared up at him, despite the fact that Shacklebolt towered over him, face impassive.
"Mark my words, I will get that circle open and I will extract my prize." He turned to his men and made a curt gesture. "Go and round up everyone still breathing in this building. We'll have to see how many more agents his Ministership is prepared to lose before he's ready to hand over Draco."
~TBC~