Disclaimer: Still not mine. Never mind. May JKR have every happiness with her wonderful creations.

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Chapter 44: Outside

Through the howling welter of distorted time ran a black horse and its rider.

Draco clung to the mane for dear life. His eyes felt like they were open, but all they saw were exploding lights reflected off the back of his eyes, and all he could hear was the whistling roar of the magic that tried to buffet him off Simon's back. All his senses were screaming, and not with joy. It felt like being attacked by a giant, psychotic lemon zester. Which had it in for Malfoys.

He tried breathing, but the barrier sucked his lungs clean of oxygen. On the plus side, it meant he had no breath free for screaming. Only the steady rocking canter of the horse let him know things weren't completely lost. Simon continued his pace neither faster or slower, and by that Draco guessed Simon wasn't affected by the barrier. Or if he was, he was sensible enough not to go racing off sideways or spin around.

Draco wished with all his heart he wasn't affected by the Callisto-damned barrier.

Hell, what if Simon suddenly stopped and Draco fell off? He could barely stay on the horse's back right now. There was no way he'd be able to walk back – it was only the fact that Simon was an edge-creature that had taken them into the barrier in the first place.

And what if the barrier had no end to it? What if Simon had only come through it the first time because he was lucky? What if they'd canter through here for an eternity, trapped in a magical field that was like biting an ice cube with rotting teeth…

Next time bloody Potter could go. He was the one meant to go around saving the world, wasn't he? He was the one who ran around insisting on saving the day all over the place, even when the day didn't want to be saved; he was the one who should bloody well be –

And then it was over.

There was no sense of bursting through a bubble of magic. No impression of breaking some mysterious field of enchantment. Simply that one moment Draco was being dragged along with his skin inside-out, and then he was riding a horse down a road with the stars twinkling overhead and the moon high above the trees.

Which it shouldn't have been. It looked like the same moon phase, but the moon itself was higher. It looked as if it was about midnight, perhaps a little past.

Of course, he'd expected time to be a little different because of the nature of the barrier. It still seemed to be summer, although the air on the other side of the barrier to Hogwarts was cooler. That, Draco realised, was because he was soaked with sweat. He let go of the mane with one hand and wiped his face. Better, but his teeth probably wouldn't stop chattering. The cold was more than the thin breeze; it was as if the memory of the barrier had stayed frozen in his chest.

The sack was going bumpetty-bump-bump against his knee to the rhythm of Simon's steady rolling canter, and it was starting to annoy. Draco straightened, releasing his handful of mane in favour of taking back control. Simon tugged once at the bit, testing Draco's resolve as the Slytherin pulled gently on the reins, then slowed to a walk when Draco insisted. Much to Draco's relief. The canter made him feel ill after the horror of passing through the barrier, and Draco had never got the hang of sitting at the trot. He took out his wand. He didn't dare do any active spells – not even a simple lumos – but passive detection spells shouldn't alert his father to his presence.

He waved his wand and mouthed the spell as quietly as he dared.

Ah.

His skills at detecting surveillance spells weren't great, but his father had drummed the basics into him. Which was lucky – anyone relying purely on Hogwarts training mightn't have caught the twang of threads of magic thinner than spider silk that drifted across the road in the merest breeze.

Lucius had set them. Draco knew it as he knew the sound of his father's voice.

He ducked one strand that floated down, glowing faintly with the detection spell. He looked back and gasped in horror: one had curled around Simon's leg and was being jerkily dragged behind them in a waving ribbon of indigo. The horse didn't appear to notice.

The alternative was, of course, Simon noticing thanks to being petrified while Death Eaters came out looking.

For some reason it didn't affect the horse.

But then horses weren't really magical animals, Draco reminded himself and his stomach, which had lurched into his throat at the sight of the tangled thread. And if Lucius set the strands too sensitively there would be some Death Eaters getting extremely cranky thanks to being called out over every deer, rabbit, fox and sparrow that tripped one.

The strand stretched, twanged and curled away, palest violet in the night, still unactivated.

Draco patted Simon on the shoulder in relief. Then – "Merlin!" – ducked as a strand floated over his head.

Once you knew what you were looking for it wasn't hard to dodge the floating spell-threads. Draco kept a wary eye out for them while casting a few more basic detection spells to see what was out here. The road was too open, too bare… he threw a broad-spectrum series of spells to the front. Simon twitched his ears as a spell grazed his cheek and Draco patted his neck in silent apology.

A glowing spot on the road blossomed right in front of Simon. It looked like a melting glass window over the fires of Hell.

Infernii curses? Oh, bloody hell!

Simon snorted. Orange light lit him from underneath and gleamed like insanity in his eyes. The horse arched his neck as he snorted again with deepest darkest suspicion, and stepped around the hole in the road.

Wise horse. Which spoke in snorts.

The disturbing thing was that Draco was beginning to understand those snorts. Horses spoke Snortese. Or should that be Snortish? he wondered a little hysterically, trying not to think how close they'd come to being incinerated.

Draco swallowed and made sure he cast more of that revealing spell to show the path ahead. A deer might stand on one of those patches and live. A horse shod with magic-impregnated silver shoes was a different story. A few areas glowed sullenly and Simon avoided them easily.

It was more trouble avoiding the strands. Draco dodged as best as he could as they snagged and snapped and flew free again from around Simon's legs. Draco decided the risk was worth it and conjured up a tame breeze to blow them out of the path. If one tangled in Simon's mane it could touch Draco's hand or leg or the sack sliding against Simon's shoulder and then there would be Trouble.

The Forest lay to the side. Draco considered tracking off through it, but then decided that was probably even more dangerous than staying on the road. He'd never liked that forest, even before the spider tried to bite off his leg. And at least he had a good chance of finding trap-jinxes here on the road rather than hidden under last autumn's leaves. Who knew what was patrolling it? A werewolf or a vampire could manoeuvre quickly and easily through trees, but out in the open and on a good road Simon could outrun anything not in flight.

And with that thought, Draco realised he'd not seen any threads for a bit. He looked around.

Looking back he could see them floating, still highlighted by his locator spell, hanging like spider silk up the road to Hogwarts.

That would make sense, Draco thought with relief, turning his attention back to the road. There didn't seem to be any more hellpits, but he kept his wand out anyway, trusting as much to Simon's sense as his magic.

Something passing overhead made him shiver, and he checked his hood was still up and covering his hair. Thank God Simon was black – a concealing charm would have triggered those wisps. He looked up.

Nothing.

Of course. But he'd sensed something. Something colder than snow, colder than ice, too cold for a night in winter, let alone summer.

Dementor.

It wouldn't surprise Draco if the Dark Lord had them patrolling the edges of the barrier. Silence was their best hope against Dementors: even if Draco was able to cast more than the faint and incredibly substandard shimmer of silver which his closest attempt at a Patronus to date, it would bring his father in like a Thestral to fresh blood. He shivered again and leaned down to pat Simon's neck, relishing the warmth against his hand. "Good Simon. Clever Simon."

The horse walked on steadily, but his head was a little higher and the ears at a tense angle. When Draco ran his hand along the neck to see if Simon was sweating and in danger of getting a chill, he found the muscles solid as rock.

Simon had sensed the Dementor, too.

Draco straightened and made sure he was holding the reins ready to stop the horse if it got frightened and tried to run. His fingers closed but didn't tighten – no point in letting Simon know his rider was scared.

That coldness passed over them again.

Simon's pace quickened into a trot. Draco didn't object, even though the sack bumped uncomfortably against his knee again.

He didn't slow Simon again until the lights of Hogsmeade came into view.

ooOOoo

He paused Simon on the last turn into the village where a small stand of pines grew lethargically but with a strong resinous smell which should hide the smell of a warm horse from any dogs or werewolves patrolling the village. Plus the trees would shelter Simon from the thin breeze blowing down from the north. Draco looped the reins around a branch (if anything terrible happened, Simon could break free) and gave the horse a pat on the shoulder as he untied the sack from the saddle. "I'll be back soon. Just stay here, okay?"

Simon breathed warm air against his shoulder. Draco felt it through the cloak.

"Good boy, Simon."

He looked back once, just in time to see Simon try to follow then stop as the horse found itself tied to the tree. The black shape stilled, although Draco fancied he could see the tail switch once in annoyance.

Telling himself that this wasn't as bad an idea as it looked, and if he was feeling sick it was because he shouldn't have eaten that ham for dinner rather than because he was scared stupid, Draco checked his hood again. The sack was tucked under his left arm, his wand was in his right hand, and Hogsmeade was right there…

Closer than he'd thought, riding up on Simon.

Clutching the sack tightly under his arm reassured him again that his mission was good. But unfortunately it depended on the presence of other people. Owls at the very least. Draco shivered as the moon went behind a cloud.

He'd remembered the lights being brighter. Maybe it was because it was so late, but shouldn't a few people be up? That frilly teashop Pansy had dragged him into one excruciating afternoon was closed up, the wooden shutters carved with hearts closed tighter than a goblin's purse. Draco had been hoping Madam Rosmerta would still have her pub open, but the Three Broomsticks was closed up, too, only a faint light over the door to illuminate the sign showed the pub was still in business, but when Draco pressed an ear against the door he couldn't hear anything to suggest anyone was awake. Not even the crackle of a fire.

Staying in the shadows whenever the moon came out from behind clouds, he paused in the doorway of Gladrags and glowered at the sight of Honeydukes, apparently just as dead as the rest of the shops. All the residential houses were dark, too – Draco didn't know who lived where, and hadn't cared until now. Even the obligatory lamp over the post office was down to the flicker of a candle burnt down to the stub. Draco hurried past. If he didn't find some sign of life soon, he'd have to try knocking on the door of one of the houses. And someone in there mightn't know him as a Hogwarts student. Dark cloak, sneaking around in the middle of the night, pale Malfoy hair and eyes… Draco knew he had all the hallmarks of a Death Eater except for the Dark Lord's personal seal of approval on his arm. He needed to talk to someone who knew the Hogwarts uniform if not Draco himself – Honeydukes had been his best bet. He was certainly one of its best customers.

There was always Zonko's, of course, which was there on the right. And just as depressingly dark as Honeydukes.

Draco stopped, blinked, and looked again.

There was a light on over Zonko's. Draco had nearly missed it because the upper floor window was covered with a thick black shade. But the shade wasn't quite square with the window and Draco was at the right angle with his night-adjusted vision to see the tiny sliver of light. That light surprised Draco more than anything. Why would a toy shop which relied on business with students of a school blockaded from the rest of the world still have any activity going on? The windows of the shop front were boarded up rather than shuttered – as were those of many of the other shops, Draco suddenly noticed as he looked around the moonlit street – but there was still life going on within. That gave him some hope.

And the fact that the lit window was shaded was also a good sign – it suggested someone wanted to remain unnoticed, and from what Draco had gathered before the Blockade finally stopped all owls, Death Eaters were currently extremely happy to be noticed.

Draco threw a pebble at the window.

Nothing.

Then the light went out.

Draco bit his lip and threw another pebble. It pinged off the window and rattled down the awning over the shop entrance, sounding like a drumroll in the night. Draco cringed at the racket and crept into the shadow of a small alley between Zonko's and the hat shop next door.

There was the squeak of a sash window sliding up.

Draco peered up and around the corner hopefully. No light. Nothing. He frowned as he weighed up the pros and cons of moving back out into the street.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, he thought, grimacing, and took a deep breath. This time he made sure he stayed just within the shadow cast by the awning and peered up. The window was open a crack, but he couldn't see anyone inside. He thought the shade might have been raised, but he was only guessing. The light was definitely out. The moon was behind clouds, and nearly all the light was gone from the world. He hoped Simon wasn't too unhappy about being alone in a strange place at night.

"Psst," he hissed at the darkness. "Hey."

He looked around furtively. Was there anyone else awake in this literally benighted town? Maybe he could go and try and sneak in the back of the post office? He was feeling very nervous at the way he'd left Simon behind. What if the horse whinnied for him or something? Maybe he could –

– There was a wand sticking into his neck. "Don't move, Death Eater," someone snarled into his ear.

Draco panicked. He spun sideways out of the grip on his arm and brought his elbow up and back to smash into his captor's face.

The man reeled back. "Argh! Dammit! You little shit, I'll…"

The voice was vaguely familiar, but what its owner was planning to do was never ascertained. Draco didn't want to use any more magic than he had to – his father had always kept tabs on whatever Dark Magic spells Draco was learning by putting a location/identification spell on Draco's wand (Draco had only recently come to the conclusion that this was less for Draco's benefit than Lucius', and that maybe, just maybe, his father saw him as a potential threat). And although Draco's mind was screaming Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Draco didn't dare cast it.

Besides, this person thought he was a Death Eater. And didn't like him for it. Shame he'd attacked Draco. Nothing for it but to get the hell out of here before the man tried something nastier, get behind something that would shelter him from hexes, and try and get identities sorted out then.

Draco scrambled up, kicked out to the side, and heard a nasty crunch as his boot hit.

"Oh, Christ!"

Someone was in pain and it wasn't him. This was a definite plus. Draco scrambled to his feet and barrelled into someone when he tried to run.

The attacker?

No – the first man was a dark shape in the moonlight, lying in the gutter and clutching his knee as he hissed in pain. This second person grabbed Draco by the elbow and tried to throw him down on the ground, nearly dislocating Draco's shoulder. "Well, well…" a voice whispered angrily as Draco tried and failed to shove him away. "A Death Eater all on its lonesome."

Draco straightened, briefly finding himself as tall as this second man. As tall as the first man, too, he realised after the fact. And the voices were so familiar.

The second man was reaching for a wand.

Knowing he would regret it, Draco jerked his head forward.

There was a violent crack! and stars exploded out of the darkness.

Draco staggered, hand to his forehead, dimly aware of the man stumbling back and clutching at a nose streaming blood black in the moonlight.

"Ah, f… my nose, for God's sake, my nose…" The voice was slightly muffled.

"My knee! Get the little bastard already, why don't you?"

Broken Nose Man lunged forward again and Draco swung. The man must have had practice at blocking punches, because he caught Draco's wrist and tugged Draco forward and off-balance. With a twist of his arm, Draco broke free and pushed forward with his shoulder, instinctively turning his forward momentum into a weapon. His luck came good for once – the man was knocked back, tripped on the curb and went down.

Draco took out his wand. It was only a bluff, but at least the pair froze at the sight of it.

His head was still swimming a little with nasty little jolts of pain through the front of his skull, but that memory which had been kicking away at his conscious suddenly came through, just as the moon came out from behind a cloud and showed his attackers staring up at him. Only the blood smeared over the face of one of them distinguished them.

"…Weasleys? What the hell are you doing here?"

Then a spell hit from behind and he toppled, arms catching him and slipping as he proved too heavy. His hood shifted and he caught a glimpse of twin expressions of astonishment on the faces of the pair sitting on the ground.

As he hit the ground he thought, Couldn't even catch me right, the rotten bastards… wish Simon was here to bite them for me.

And there was a pang as he thought of Simon, out there under the pines waiting for him.

Then there were more stars, fading into the darkness.

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