Harry stepped through the smashed portal with his wand held ready, alert for anything. Zabini and Parkinson crowded close and then fanned out, crossing the empty chamber with admirable efficiency. Zabini flattened himself next to the opposite door and peered around quickly. Parkinson did the same to the other doorway, although light was visible—the roof was open in that direction, Harry remembered, as he hurried to the passageway that led to the interior.
He barely noticed Zabini and Parkinson behind him as he reached the central chamber. A large pillar concealed a lift, but Harry was reluctant to use it. Whoever had broken in had obviously utilised it, judging by the scorch marks in the stone surrounding it. A single guard posted below could take them all out the moment it stopped.
"We should take the stairs. Hopefully they don't know the full layout and won't be expecting anyone from that quarter. It's a bit of a walk, but better down than up. I'll disable this to keep them from sneaking past us, operating on the assumption they're still below and haven't snatched Draco and departed already.
"That had better not be the case," Parkinson warned with a dark glare. "Fucking Ministry should have left him alone."
"He came to us," Harry snapped.
"He wanted to help you. Fat lot of good that's done him."
Instead of arguing that Malfoy had done nothing that wouldn't personally gain him something, Harry vowed to ignore her. Now wasn't the time for sniping. He spelled open the control panel next to the lift button and spent a few moments disrupting the charms that caused it to rise and lower.
"Where is the stairwell?" Zabini demanded. "We're wasting time!"
Harry shot him a look and then led them through a dark warren of broken-down passages and ceiling-less rooms until he reached what might have been a cistern in the Dark Ages. He tapped a sequence of stones on the wall and the floor rearranged itself to reveal a stairwell.
"Wait," Harry said. "The wards are down and we don't want Muggle company. Give me a minute to reset the Anti-Muggle Charms."
Parkinson opened her mouth, but Zabini clapped a hand on her arm. "Knock yourself out, Potter. We'll wait here."
Harry gave him a hard stare, but without binding them in place he could hardly keep them there. It should only take him a moment or two to tack up a rudimentary ward, and he considered it a necessity given the proximity to the town nearby. They definitely did not need any innocent Muggles complicating the situation. It was standard procedure. "It will only take a second."
Harry hurried back to a cracked set of stairs that led upwards. He took them two at a time and then sent several spells winging over the remains of the walls. The wards were weak, but they should hold for the next hour or so.
When he made his way back to the cistern stairs, Zabini and Parkinson were gone. Cursing every Slytherin he'd ever met, Harry pelted down into the darkness after them.
oooOooo
Draco glanced up warily when Crabbe's people returned. A small group of ragtag Aurors accompanied them, one of them lying prone and following by way of levitation. Draco blanched when he recognised Auror Klein, the one Potter called Kay-Kay. She walked unsteadily and one side of her face looked like a sheet of blood. Draco wondered where Finnigan was; they were usually found together.
Shacklebolt's face was a mask.
"Look who we have here." Crabbe walked forwards and grabbed Klein by the hair. She grimaced, but made no sound as Crabbe dragged her towards Shacklebolt. "You should have found another line of work, pretty. Now, Minister, perhaps you'll tell me the spell to lower the wards, before I AK this little Auror."
"Auror Klein knew the risks when she signed up for this job," Shacklebolt said in a firm tone and Draco blinked at him in surprise. He'd expected Shacklebolt to be a hardcase, but never to the point of allowing one of his Aurors to die.
"Give me a bloody break!" Crabbe yelled. "It's a fucking Malfoy. His life isn't worth all of this. He isn't worth one hair on this fine figure of an Auror's head." He gave Klein a shake.
"That may be, but he is still under my protection and will remain so. We do not accede to terrorist tactics."
"Until when?" Crabbe roared. "Until I kill you all and blast the very stones out from under him?"
"If that is what it takes." Shacklebolt's dark eyes flashed.
"Unbelievable." Crabbe's mutter was barely audible. He turned and dragged Klein, who stumbled and nearly fell before righting herself with a sharp cry. Crabbe's hand never left her hair and he propelled her to her knees at the edge of the barrier. "Malfoy, you've always had a weakness for beautiful things. Give me the code and come out like a good boy, and I'll spare the life of this lovely girl."
Draco gave him a disdainful stare, careful not to look into Klein's terrified face. "What makes you think I care about the life of some random Auror? There are scads more where that one came from."
Crabbe jerked his head at Weasley. "You seem to care enough about that one."
Draco glanced down at Weasley and then smirked at Crabbe. "I might have need of this one later. You're not getting in, Virgil. Cut your losses and go."
"Give me the spell!"
"I don't have the spell. Why do you think I need this one alive? If you happen to kill everyone out there, I will need a way to get out of here. In fact, I'm curious as to why you've gone through all of this trouble to end in a stalemate. Surely it would have been simpler to take me elsewhere? My habits are not exactly unknown and it would have saved you a prodigious amount of time and effort."
Crabbe gave him and evil smile. "The point is to let you know that there is nowhere you can hide where I cannot ferret you out. No Ministry safe house or bloody fortress will protect you from me, and mark my words, this is no stalemate. I will have you out of there and then I will carve my revenge into your hide."
Draco heaved a sigh. "We've gone over this, Virgil. There was nothing I could do. Vince cast the Fiendfyre and it was only through—"
"You pulled Goyle out, Draco. You saved Gregory Goyle and you left my Vincent in there to die and nothing you say will ever change that." Crabbe's eyes were wild, possibly mad—or more than possibly considering the current state of affairs—and despite everything Draco felt a familiar stab of guilt. It was difficult to deny culpability when the truth of Crabbe's words were already etched on his soul, carved there through years of if-onlies.
And even through the guilt he remained glad that Harry had flown them free. Not a day went by that Draco didn't send a hefty mental thanks in Harry's direction. That very thing had set Draco upon his current path, when gratitude had turned into a need to right wrongs, and to tip the scales that had been unbalanced for far too long.
"I can only say I'm sorry so many times." Draco's voice was quiet.
"Then say it again!" Crabbe twisted his hand in Klein's hair and she let out a faint cry of protest. Draco braced himself, half-expecting Crabbe to kill her in a rage, but a ruckus near the passageway drew Draco's attention, and Crabbe followed his line of sight. He released Klein's hair and stepped away from her as Draco's blood froze.
Walking slowly and followed by four of Crabbe's people were Pansy and Blaise. A third, prone body floated behind them—not Harry. Draco only had a moment to give thanks that Harry wasn't with them, and then Crabbe was marching towards them with a determined stride.
"Weasley, you're going to need to wake up now," Draco said and nudged him with a toe.
oooOooo
When Harry realised he wouldn't catch up with Parkinson and Zabini, he slowed and tugged his invisibility cloak out of the pouch he'd carried along and slung it on. He hoped it would give him an advantage.
The stairwell let out into a small study, exiting through a rotating bookshelf. The room was empty and the door to the hall was open. Harry slipped out, trying to be quiet, and then broke into a jog when he heard the sound of spells rebounding against stone, and the whisper-shout of hexes being hurled.
He slowed when he reached an open room with a curved ceiling charmed to reflect the outside sky, currently pelting rain, and dark with clouds. In the muted light, Harry could see Zabini and Parkinson holding their own against Kingsley's undersecretary, Quentin Quartermain.
"We're on your side, you stupid arse!" Zabini yelled.
"Any friend of a Malfoy will never be on our side!" Quartermain retorted. "I'm here to hand over the Malfoy brat and put an end to this nonsense. You shall not stop me."
"I was wrong. We're not on your side." Zabini's tone was derisive and the hex he sent winging towards Quartermain was just shy of lethal. Harry knew he should step in and stop the fight, but if Quartermain really planned to turn over Malfoy, then it might be best to allow Zabini and Parkinson to incapacitate him. Assuming Malfoy was still in the facility somewhere.
For a foppish snob, Quartermain was handy with a wand. He deflected Zabini's hex with ease and even managed an odd flourish as he sent one in return, before leaping aside to avoid Parkinson's angry red bolt. He reminded Harry of Severus Snape, especially when a sneer twisted his patrician features.
"Crawl back into your serpent holes and leave business to your betters."
"Oh that's enough of that," Parkinson growled and sent a volley of hexes his way. Quartermain deflected several of them, but one slipped through and grazed his foot. His leg solidified into a plank of wood and Quartermain's grace turned into a ragdoll sort of flop. He dragged the wooden leg and hopped smartly to avoid another set of curses spelled his way by Zabini. Malfoy's friends separated and moved in different directions, obviously intending to divide and conquer.
Quartermain cast a shimmering dual Shield Charm—difficult to maintain, Harry knew. Before the scenario could play out, a jagged bolt shot from across the room and hit Quartermain between his unprotected shoulder blades. He flopped forwards and his wooden leg clattered as he fell. Another slough of hexes spiralled from the darkness and set Zabini and Parkinson racing back to one another.
Four wizards in utilitarian robes appeared, sending nonstop coordinated spells at Zabini and Parkinson, battering away at their defensive spells until a Stunner caught Parkinson and sent her to the floor. Zabini looked unrepentant, angry.
Harry lifted his wand to enter the fray; he'd been waiting to see how the scenario played out, and he was curious about Quartermain's presence. Harry didn't recall the undersecretary's name on the "need to know" list in regards to the whereabouts of the safe house. He supposed it was possible that Kingsley had told him about it… But why?
The newcomers were probably Crabbe's men. Just as Harry was about to let loose an Expelliarmus, a volley of spells shot from Zabini's wand, spiralling out in a wild assortment and scattering his attackers. Harry opened his mouth to cast and then barely had time to blink as a spell rebounded from the floor and knocked him backwards. He fell, stiff as a board, and could not even swear as the Full-body Bind took hold. To his amazement, no one noticed—they were all making too much noise and his invisibility cloak still covered him. He watched, unable to blink, as Zabini was taken out by a combination Rictusempra and Rubber Bones Hex. Zabini laughed uncontrollably as he struggled to lift his arms. A follow-up Expelliarmus yanked away his wand and then the attackers bound him with magical ropes. Parkinson roused as they did so and she was given the same treatment.
They levitated Quartermain and then gestured the others to precede them into the passageway by which they had entered, not bothering to be quiet. None of them even glanced in Harry's direction, so even if his feet or hands were uncovered they were none the wiser. He was left alone and contemplated the wand in his hand. If he could cast a wordless Finite Incantatum, he wouldn't have to wait until the spell wore off.
Steeling himself and trying to clear his mind, Harry concentrated.
oooOooo
Draco prodded at Weasley again and then knelt to slap at his cheeks. Weasley groaned softly. Draco looked at Crabbe, who stopped before Blaise.
"Mr Zabini and Miss Parkinson," Crabbe said pleasantly. "How nice to see Vincent's old friends again, all in one place. I see you are still following Malfoy around like my foolish son used to do. And where is Greg?"
"Hello, Mr Crabbe. I haven't seen Greg in some time." Blaise's tone was polite, but guarded. Pansy's stare flicked from Blaise to Crabbe to Draco and back again. Her features were placid, but Draco could see that her knuckles were white from her clenched fists.
"Well. When all this unpleasantness is done I might have to pay Greg a visit." Crabbe stepped up next to Blaise and put an arm around his shoulders. "Come, Mr Zabini, let us have a talk with our old friend, Draco." He led Blaise towards the edge of the runic circle. As they drew closer, Draco could see a bead of sweat trickle from Blaise's temple down to his smooth jaw. Auror Klein had vacated the spot on the floor and sidled back to Shacklebolt's side, probably hoping to slide into invisibility.
Draco shook Weasley. "Wake up, damn it!"
"Draco," Crabbe said in a congenial tone, "if you would like to keep your friend Blaise alive, I suggest you find the spell to open this circle. I will give you to the count of five."
"I don't know it!" Draco yelled. A spear of panic went through him and he hoped to hell Crabbe was bluffing.
"One."
"Give me a damned minute to wake up Weasley!"
"Two."
Blaise struggled, nearly broke free, and then fell as a Cruciatus Curse brought him down. A cry from Pansy made Draco look up, but two of her escorts held her tightly. Blaise climbed slowly to his feet.
"Three."
"Shacklebolt! Lower the circle!"
"Four."
"Minister, please." Panicking, Draco cast a clumsy Ennervate on Weasley with no effect. He tried again and Weasley's blue eyes snapped open, although they were unfocused. Draco shook him. If Shacklebolt had been willing to let Auror Klein die, there was no way in hell he would lift a finger to save Blaise Zabini.
Shacklebolt's voice was implacable. "We can't give in to terrorism, Mr Malfoy. Crabbe, cease this display at once. You won't get—"
"Five. Avada Kedavra."
Draco surged to his feet as a familiar green light shot from the end of Crabbe's wand. For as long as he lived, Draco would never forget the expression on Blaise's face as the spell hit; his dark eyes were locked on Draco's, wide with a mixture of surprise and resignation. A partial smirk quirked at Blaise's lips, as if he meant to drawl "Well, isn't this puddle of wet shite" as he'd done a thousand times in the past. Then the light in his eyes flickered out and he toppled sideways, never to deliver another quip. Never to clap Draco on the shoulder, or steal a chip from his plate, never to complain about his expensive shoes getting wet, and never to lean over and point out the fine arse on some bloke or lass walking past.
Pansy's scream barely registered through the icy fury that gripped Draco as he moved his stare from Blaise's body to Crabbe. If only he'd ever mastered wandless magic, the strength of his rage would have been enough to incinerate Crabbe on the spot. His hand clenched so tightly around Weaseley's wand that it was a wonder it hadn't snapped. It took every bit of his willpower not to send ineffectual spells hurling from the wand.
Instead, he glared a silent promise at Crabbe, gathered his icy Malfoy cloak about himself, and turned back to Weasley. Although he hadn't moved, Weasley's stare was alert. Draco met his gaze for a long moment and allowed a miniscule portion of his anguish to leak out. For the first time, he wondered if any of it had been worth the cost.
Crabbe marched over and snatched up Pansy. Draco knew without looking. Pansy was vocal when she was upset, and the current high-pitched tumble of invectives, slurs, and vengeful promises would have made Salazar Slytherin proud.
Draco watched expressionlessly as Crabbe hurled her to the floor next to Blaise's body. She fell silent and her streaming eyes flitted from Blaise to Draco. She was terrified, but it was hardly evident; mostly her features reflected the same rage burning in Draco's chest.
"I don't think I'll bother to count this time. Drop the fucking circle, or Pansy dies." Crabbe's wand jabbed into Pansy's hair.
Draco looked at Weasley, whose eyes were closed again. Draco dropped to his knees and grabbled Weasley's lapels. "Weasley, wake the fuck up. Shacklebolt, someone, open the goddamn circle!"
Weasley groaned. Draco slapped his face, frantic.
"Draco."
He froze, stilled by Pansy's tone. His focus shifted to her, and in the midst of everything else reflected on her face, he also discovered a placid resignation, something he'd never expected to see.
Her voice slipped into French, smoothly and without effort, as though it were spoken between them daily and not a language that hadn't passed her lips in a good three or four years, beyond a casual swear word or an order for Escargots de Bourgogne or gateau de rois.
"Draco, I have loved you since you were a swotty little spoiled brat parading around and trying to show me how to ride your first broom. I loved you all through school and that love never faltered, even when I watched your eyes follow every cock in the room instead of my fabulous assets. I loved you when you did everything possible to save your mad father, and I've loved you even through your never-ending obsession with a certain saviour. I will love you as I take my last breath, my darling."
Draco swallowed hard. His fingers relaxed on Weasley's lapels and his vision blurred as he stared at her. Merlin, he couldn't lose her. Not her and Blaise, both. "I'll get you out." His French sounded rusty to his own ears, or perhaps it was merely the ragged quality of his voice.
"We both know that won't happen." She managed a soft smile. "Now come here and tell me you love me. I want to pretend one last time."
Crabbe was back to making threats, but Draco did not hear him. He crawled to the edge of the barrier and looked into Pansy's beautiful face. She had always stood with him, no matter what, defying her family and former friends, giving up any sort of normal life to trail him around the world, asking for nothing more than whatever scraps Draco had been willing to toss her. And those had been few, Draco knew. Far too few, indeed.
Draco put his hand out until the barrier solidified beneath his fingers. A purplish glow surrounded his hand, tingling with something that would turn into pain if he left it there for long. He ignored it.
"Pans. You are my moon and stars, my ocean, my sky. My candlelight in darkest night and my Warming Charm on the coldest day. You've watched my back and held my hand, and kept my heart whole when I thought it shattered beyond repair. You've wiped my tears and kicked my arse and I will always love you, silly bint." Draco's voice cracked and Pansy smiled through a sob.
"Enough of this gibberish!" Crabbe lifted his wand and brought it down with a swift jab. Draco refused to shut his eyes and Pansy's widened as she braced for the Killing Curse. A loud scream caused them both to jump and then Crabbe was turning away, looking at the entrance passage with a growl. "What now?"
And Draco's heart, which he'd thought could not have sunk much lower, fell through the floor into a dark abyss. In the passage stood Harry Potter, half-visible with wand blazing. Even in Draco's despair, he was a sight to behold.
oooOooo
It seemed to take forever to shake off the damned Stunner, but Harry finally managed it—thankful he'd managed to hold onto his wand—and then staggered after Zabini and Parkinson's captors. A simple Scent Detector Charm allowed him to follow the faint trail left by Parkinson's perfume. It was a useful spell and most criminal sorts did not even realise they could be followed by their cologne.
He was surprised when the trail led to a smashed portal that marked the entrance to the interrogation chamber; it was the last place he'd expected them to go. He wondered what spell Crabbe had used to destroy the solid stone door, as it would have required something extremely powerful, and yet controlled enough to keep the entire place from caving in around them.
He didn't have time to puzzle over it; he picked his way through the rubble and moved onwards, and stopped short just inside the broken portal at the sight of a dead Auror—Wilson. Harry blanched and sent a glare towards the chamber. He could hear voices and barely kept himself from racing down the passage and hurling hexes.
He hurried into the chamber to find a scene worse than he'd expected. His gaze flitted from Kingsley, standing at wandpoint between two stern-faced figures, to Malfoy, hunched over a blood-soaked Ron Weasley with one hand glowing against an invisible barrier. Harry nearly ran forwards to see to Ron, and then he noticed the gleaming circle of runes, and Pansy Parkinson on her knees with a man standing over her. By the look of hopeless defeat on Malfoy's face, the man could only be Virgil Crabbe. Next to Parkinson lay Blaise Zabini, either unconscious or dead.
Harry assessed the situation. Two of Crabbe's people stood between Harry and a clear shot at Crabbe; Quentin Quartermain's Levitated body hovered behind them, and a small sound indicated that Quartermain was coming out of the Stunner.
Harry's options were limited. If he took down Crabbe, there was no guarantee that the goons holding Kingsley wouldn't retaliate. He couldn't risk the Minister's life and he didn't think he could take out nine of them on his own. Still, his only advantage was being invisible. He stepped quietly through the rubble, taking care that his cloak made no sound scraping against the rocks.
Quartermain's feet jutted into the easiest path for Harry to take, so he ducked under them and scooted beneath, risking a glance at Malfoy. The anguish on his face was heart-wrenching and Harry feared that Zabini was dead. That did not bode well for Parkinson, who seemed to be talking in low tones to Malfoy.
Harry straightened and stepped forward just as one of Quartermain's guards turned at a moan from the prone man. He swivelled and took a step—straight onto the hem of Harry's cloak. It pulled free, exposing Harry's head and shoulders, just as Crabbe screamed, "Enough of this gibberish!"
The man next to Harry screamed and lifted his wand, just in time to catch an Impedimenta to the face. Harry also took down the second guard and then raised a hasty Shield Charm to counter several spells flung his way by the robed figures surrounding Kingsley.
"Well, well, well," Crabbe said. "If it isn't Harry Potter. Finally, someone of real value." He jerked his chin towards Kingsley, who was being held from behind. A wand tip pressed into the Minister's throat. "Drop your wand, Mr Potter, or Shacklebolt dies. From what the Prophet says, you two are old mates. It would be terrible to have his death on your conscience, now wouldn't it?"
Harry hesitated, wondering if Crabbe were bluffing.
"I'll start with the Auror, then." Crabbe lifted his wand and pointed it at Kay-Kay, who was similarly held next to Kingsley.
Harry tossed his wand aside, cursing his luck. It was obvious he had just made things worse for everyone, except possibly Parkinson, who scuttled away around the edge of the circle until brought up short by a woman Harry hadn't even noticed. She gestured with her wand and Parkinson walked sedately over to join Shacklebolt and the others. Crabbe hadn't seemed to notice his victim's escape. He was fully focussed on Harry. A Summoning Charm called Harry's wand into Crabbe's hand and he smiled when he held it aloft.
"Very good, Mr Potter. Now, if you would be so kind as to take Ms Parkinson's place, I believe I have some unfinished business with Minister Shacklebolt."
"You will not have Malfoy." Kingsley's voice boomed in the room, despite the size of the chamber.
"To save Harry Potter's life? I find that hard to believe. On your knees, Potter."
Harry walked to the spot Parkinson had vacated and knelt, trying not to look at Zabini's still form. It was made easier by the presence of Ron, bloody and just as lifeless-looking inside the barrier. Malfoy had moved away from glowing runes and was leaning over Ron, slapping his cheeks gently.
"He's alive?" Harry asked quietly.
"For now. He needs to get to St Mungo's, but first he needs to wake the fuck up and tell me how to drop this circle." Malfoy speared him with a silver stare. "Do you know how?"
Harry shook his head. "They change it before every use. I haven't been here."
"Minister, we are going to try the countdown thing again since you seem to have some reservations about giving me the bloody spell. I suggest you think about the ramifications of allowing your precious Saviour to die whilst I give you a slow count of five. One."
Draco's jaw worked silently and then he picked up Ron's wand.
oooOooo
It was easier this time, surprisingly. From somewhere, Draco had found calm. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that Pansy was safe, for the moment, or maybe their French words of nonsense had brought him a meagre dosage of peace. They were all destined to die, after all. It was only a matter of time.
But, all things considered, Draco would rather not die today. And he had no intention of allowing Harry to die.
"Two," Crabbe said just as Draco cast a strong "Ennervate!"
Weasley's eyes snapped open and he gasped, just before wrinkling his brow and hissing before drawing in a long, tortured-sounding breath. "Hurts."
"I realise that, Weasley, but we have a situation here and you need to wake up now."
Weasley's mouth turned down and his eyes fluttered shut. Draco reached down and squeezed his leg, just below the bloody gash. Weasley screamed and clarity returned to his wide-open eyes. "Bloody hell, you son of a—!"
"Three."
Draco snatched the back of Weasley's head and dragged his face upwards, turning it until he had a clear view of Harry. Weasley's jaw gaped. Draco growled, "Either give me the spell to lower this circle or do it yourself, but it needs to happen now."
"Weasley, do not open that circle!"Shacklebolt yelled. "That's an order!"
Weasley's eyes went even wider and a squeaking sound emitted from his throat, reminiscent of their school days when Draco wore a badge proclaiming "Weasley is our king!"
"If you allow Harry to die out there I will kill you in here very, very slowly," Draco warned.
"Four."
Weasley grabbed the wand from Draco and spoke several clear syllables, wincing with pain as he swished the wand through the air. The blue runes flickered and went dark.
Crabbed stepped into the circle and Draco got slowly to his feet, watching the man warily. And then he smiled brightly. "Virgil! What are you doing here?"
~TBC~
(Author's Note: Apologies for this chapter! For those of you familiar with the show - I couldn't fridge Pansy. I just couldn't do it, so Blaise had to take the fall. *cringes* Anyway, the last line of this chapter was taken directly from the Anslo episode because Red's delivery was bloody hilarious.)