Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the plot, characters, spell names, places, etc. mentioned in the Harry Potter books and movies. I am writing for fun and not for profit.

Summary: Set after HBP. After months of enduring cruel games at the hand of Death Eaters as punishment for his failure, Draco manages to escape. Seriously injured, wandless, and accompanied by a 4-yr-old muggle girl, he struggles to survive. Will he be able to help put an end to the war, or will he suffer a fate worse than death?

Warnings: None

Chapter 7

"Wait. Let's wait for Ron."

Sophie's voice brought Draco out of his thoughts. Relieved, although he would never show it, he allowed his pace to slow until the pair – for Sophie was still tightly gripping the side of his trousers – came to a stop. With each step he took, his wound gave a merciless sting and his breaths became progressively harder to take. However, he would be damned before giving the Weasleys the satisfaction of seeing his weakened condition. Draco plastered an impatient expression on his face and looked behind him.

The sight that greeted him seemed pathetic, quite pitiful. Three thin figures crawled along at a snail's pace, two of them carrying the third between them with obvious difficulty. Their heavy breathing and scraping feet echoed in the confined space, adding to the noise of the thin river of water that ran along the length of the tunnel they were currently traversing. The river was magical of course, spelled to last forever to quench the thirst of any who needs it. Looking past them, Draco noticed the girl trailed a little behind the group, her face indiscernible in the dimness. With plenty of practice reading and interpreting body movements during his imprisonment, Draco noted her slightly hunched shoulders. She was tense, unsure of their situation, and jumpy at any noise, real or imaginary. Honestly, Draco thought as he glanced back at the three male Weasleys and the muggle beside him, the hell am I going to do with these people?

Once the group came upon a few feet of Draco, Potter's sidekick and one of the twins promptly dropped to the ground, setting the injured one gently on his back. The girl bent down with her family, whispering words so softly that Draco couldn't comprehend her despite the short distance between them. Draco had no problem hearing the injured twin's gasping, however, and he winced as it seemed to get louder and louder. The breaths were uneven and sounded dauntingly wet at times. It was painfully obvious his condition was getting exponentially worse.

Gazing silently at the family conference, Draco couldn't help but feel his heart giving a slight lurch. He wasn't jealous. No, he would never be jealous of Weasleys; but just then, he would give anything to simply know where his mother was and how she was faring. After a few more seconds, Draco said, "What are you Weasleys doing? We have to move."

The girl glanced up, the shadows doing nothing to hide her annoyed expression. "Fred's hurt. We've been walking for at least a damn hour. Death Eaters aren't chasing us. We need a break." Her words and sentences were short and cold.

Suppressing the desire to curl his lips, Draco raised an eyebrow instead. "I see," he replied simply. He turned around, giving the Weasleys his back. "Please, take all the time you need." He shifted Pansy's bag higher onto his shoulders and stuffed his fists into his pockets, unable to hide his annoyance in the action. "When you're good and ready, just follow this tunnel straight to the end. Ignore any doors or panels. The end should open up to a clearing in the forest eight kilometers from the manor. From there, pick a direction and pray that you are not in fact heading straight back to your prison." He placed one foot forward. "I'm afraid I haven't the patience to stick around with you lot. I insist you keep the muggle," he added, wrenching himself away from the girl's grip.

The muggle's sound of protest was drowned out by the Weasley girl's shout. "Wait! Where are you going?"

Draco turned around. "I've already freed you from your prison. What more do you want from me?"

The girl stood up, her lips set in a thin line. "It's killing me inside to ask a Malfoy for help, but I'm not stupid. You've lived here all your life. You know this place. You can take us away from here. You seem to be in the best condition out of all of us…please, help me get Fred home safe, and after this, I'll be in your debt."

A slight movement near the girl caught Draco's eye, and he found himself staring at the tallest member of the group. Potter's sidekick was gazing uncertainly at his sister and then confusedly at Draco. "What's wrong, Weasley? Disturbed that your sister would ask for my help?"

Even in the shadows, Draco could see the pale skin redden. Ron shook his head slightly. Just as he was about to turn his attention back to the girl, Ron's next words made him stiff. "You-Know-Who stabbed you not two days ago," he said. "How are you even standing?"

The words were like a punch in the gut. The remaining air in Draco's lungs gusted out of him, and he couldn't help but stare dumbly at the freckled face, at a loss for words. How had he forgotten? With no one but his mother on his mind back inside the manor, how had he forgotten that Weasley was there right next to him?

"Weasley," Draco finally found his voice, and suddenly, the words were tumbling out of his lips. "Where's my mother? Did you see what happened to her?"

Ron looked surprised at the change in subject. Glancing at the twins and his sister, he said, "After these halfwits stormed the place and lost, they threw us all in the cell together. Only Sophie and you were missing."

The twin in better condition spoke up for the first time. "We didn't lose." When all eyes turned disbelievingly to him, he visibly slumped. "Well, we did injure a few of them," he said sullenly.

"My mother was in the same cell as you?" Draco asked before the twin could talk again.

All the Weasleys, save the one lying disturbingly still on the ground, nodded their heads. With difficulty, Draco swallowed the rage that surged upward inside him. How dare those bastards throw his mother into the dungeons? The cells only recognized and released those with Malfoy blood; therefore, his mother wasn't protected from their imprisonment like Draco and his father. But then again, they did come up with other ways of containing the Malfoys. Draco bitterly recalled his being held in a cage meant for animals and his father wasting away in Azkaban. He sighed, once again hit with the realization of just how low his family had gotten in the past few months.

"Where is she now?" Draco asked. He frowned slightly when his voice came out more faint than he would've liked.

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could utter a word, the female Weasley interrupted. "Ron, wait." When Draco looked at her, her face was grim, but determined. She looked him straight in the eyes. "Help us first, and then we'll tell you what happened to your mother, whether she's still alive or not."

Draco shouldn't have been surprised, really. He should've expected this. Malfoys and Weasleys never did anything for each other willingly. There must be a catch. Of course, knowing this made the disappointment inside him no lighter. "Very well," he said. If the Weasley girl was surprised at his quick acceptance, she didn't show it. Instead, she glanced down at the injured twin.

"We should continue," she said. "How are you holding up, Fred?"

The figure on the floor managed a small chuckle that did nothing to alleviate the worried expressions on his family's faces. "You worry too much, Ginny," he rasped, and to their alarm, he tried to pick himself up.

Draco watched impatiently as the rest of the Weasleys scrambled to help him. If anything, they were making the situation worse as hasty hands brushed against too numerous wounds. To his further annoyance, the muggle had reattached her hand on the side of his trousers.

When all four of the Weasleys were upright, he immediately began walking toward the exit. "We don't have far left. Keep up," he said over his shoulders. He swore he heard dark murmurs behind him, but he brushed it aside. Whatever the Weasleys said about him no longer mattered. They were depending on him now. They had no other choice but to follow his footsteps. Draco smiled, and the smile was almost a sad one. In another time, he would've loved this situation: the Weasleys were quite helpless and desperate in his hands. However, he could find no glee or satisfaction within him. Had he changed? Did he finally grow up? Or did the games and torture succeeded in numbing him completely?

Well, whatever the case, Draco hoped that he would get his act together soon. He wasn't quite sure he liked this Draco: a Draco who would help the Weasleys without even one mocking remark. A Draco who would allow a muggle to keep her hands on him. A Draco who would rather be in the company with the people he thought he hated most when he was used to being alone.

Really. This whole situation was quite ridiculous.