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: Language

Chapter 8

"We're here," Draco announced, not bothering to hide his relief. He heard a collective sigh behind him, as well as Sophie's small cheer. The muggle had finally left Draco alone to hold hands with the female Weasley a couple kilometers back. Although the absence of the constant tugging made it easier for him to walk, it was still a very difficult journey through the tunnel. The group had spent the ridiculous amount of four hours traveling a mere eight kilometers, stopping many times for quick breaks. The wound in his middle bothered him to no end, but surprisingly, the pain was not nearly as intense as when he first stood up in his cell. This made him happier than it should considering the fact that he was still stuck with Weasleys, but he was one step closer to finding his mother and so he did not complain.

The end of the tunnel stood before them, covered generously with shrubs and long slanting branches that did nothing to block the weak sunlight. The packed dirt ground of the tunnel floor gradually became vibrant green grass still wet with dew. Draco's nose twitched at the smell of the outside breeze.

He stepped forward and lifted the branches to create a decent sized opening. He poked his head through to gaze around at the small clearing. "This forest isn't that big. Nowhere near the size of the Forbidden Forest, at least. If we…" Draco trailed off as his eyes caught something odd attached to a thin gnarled tree. Squinting against the sun's glare, he tried to discern what it was. He stepped through the branches and into the clearing, curiosity winning out against caution.

When the thing moved, Draco's heart almost stopped in alarm. He watched as limbs unfolded and the figure stepped forward out of the shadows. In the sunlight, Draco could clearly see the face of a familiar Death Eater, Theodore Nott.

The two Syltherins stared at one another for a few seconds, neither saying a word and, in Draco's case, breathing. When the thin, pale lips curved upward in a smile, Draco tensed.

"Draco! I didn't think you would be able to move yet. I guess I owe someone an apology; those bandages seem to be more successful than I thought."

The words drifted awhile in Draco's mind before he fully comprehended them. Realizing Nott wasn't about to throw any spells at him, he relaxed slightly. "Spelled bandages?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"Dipped in a potion, actually," Nott answered, his grin becoming wider. "But say, what are you doing here, Draco? You were supposed to stay in your…" he was cut off as the wall of branches behind Draco shook and split, revealing the Weasleys and the muggle struggling quite comically with getting Fred through without further injuring him. Nott looked back at Draco, his face even more amused than before. "And what the hell is this, Draco? I knew you despised Potter, but I could never have guessed that you wanted to be like Potter." He snickered. "Rescuing Weasleys, now, are ya?"

Draco didn't take the bait. Instead, his mind was racing with possibilities, actions, anything that could bring him out of this mess. He heard an "oh, fuck" behind him. Draco snorted. "You by yourself, Nott?" he asked.

Nott shrugged. "Why would I tell you that?" His smile took on a more sinister appearance. "Imagine my surprise when I returned to find your cell empty, Draco. You know who was left in charge of the manor while the Dark Lord attacked Phoenix headquarters?" Nott lifted a thin finger to point to himself. "Me. And you know who would be killed if the prisoners in his care managed to escape?" His head tilted to the side so he could glare pointedly at the twins." Not only those stupid enough to get injured from the Weasleys' attack, but also me. So please, turn back and return to your cells."

Draco was barely listening. Instead, he trusted his instincts to alert him if Nott became hostile. His eyes surreptitiously darted for the tell-tale signs of the path leading out of the forest. If he must, he would run the first chance he got, leaving behind the group he rescued. He fulfilled whatever debt he felt he owed them, and his mother's whereabouts would be no use to him in a cell anyways. Justifications after justifications popped up in his mind while his legs itched to move.

"Draco."

The call made Draco snap his eyes back to the Death Eater. Nott's face suddenly became serious. No traces of the previous amusement could be detected upon his pinched features.

"You're not going to go back peacefully, are you?" When Draco didn't reply, Nott frowned. "You do realize the implications of your escape, correct? Are you aware that your actions scream your betrayal to the Dark Lord?" The pale eyes narrowed with contempt toward the Weasleys. "You renounce the value of your pure blood to stand beside these worthless blood traitors?"

Draco glared stonily at his fellow Slytherin, annoyance flaring quickly despite the need for wariness. How could he explain, really? How could he make this boy realize that he would do anything to not only save his own skin, but also those of his family? This boy, who grew up without a mother and with a distant father, would never be able to understand Draco's position. "Nott…" he began.

"No, no." the Death Eater cut him off with a wave of a hand. "Do as you wish." As Draco's eyes widened in surprise, Nott grimaced and raised his left forearm, pushing back the sleeves of his robes to reveal the Dark Mark. "The Lord is calling; don't tell me you can't feel it?"

Draco did. The customary tingling associated with Voldemort's summoning could be felt all along his arm. Mirroring Nott's actions, he pushed up his sleeve to watch as the faded tattoo darkened to jet black, bringing more and more pain all the while. Gritting his teeth against the burning sensation, Draco looked back up at Nott, who was staring at him with an unreadable expression. "Go run off to him, then," Draco said, his voice tense.

The pale blue eyes bore into Draco's gray ones, as if searching for something. Then, quickly, they jumped to the group behind him, lingering on the young muggle girl. His facial expression, so lively just a few minutes ago, was as still as a statue. "Will you come with me?" he asked.

Although the invitation surprised him, Draco smiled. "I'll answer your question if you answer mine first, Nott." When the Death Eater nodded, he continued. "Do you know what's become of my mother?"

Draco felt ridiculously satisfied when he saw shock on the other boy's face for once. For him to claim that he knew Draco…

Watching him school his expression into a nonchalant one, Draco waited with baited breath for an answer.

"Of course I do. If I told you, would you come…"

"He's lying!"

The exclamation made both Draco and Nott jump. Turning around, Draco looked at the female Weasley in amazement. The girl stood rigid, an expression of fury on her face.

"How would you know, you filthy little shite, what happened to his mother? I remember clearly putting you down first! You were knocked out cold, so how would you know?"

Now, despite the circumstances, Draco couldn't help but laugh. It was a bitter, ragged laugh that masked the disappointment that had become such a familiar feeling lately. He believed the Weasley girl; Nott didn't know where his mother was.

Ignoring the looks of surprise thrown at him, he turned to look at Nott. "You are so confident of your superiority, Nott, and yet you were bested by a Weasley? A younger Weasley? Did you know their family was probably too poor to afford proper wands?"

Nott narrowed his eyes at him. "You've made your decision, then. You really are choosing them over everything you've ever believed in?"

Draco shook his head slowly, suddenly serious. "I'm not choosing them, and I'm not choosing Voldemort."

"You can't do that!" Nott practically snarled. He winced and grabbed his left forearm. Draco flinched as well. Voldemort's summoning was touching the border of agony. "We are at war, Draco. You're either with them or us. Gather your wits and come with me."

"No." Draco answered, bluntly.

"Alright," Nott said. With labored breath and trembling arms, he pulled out his wand. "Alright," he repeated. Before Draco could shift into a defensive stance, Nott called out, "I'll see you later, then, mate." With a sudden unexpected smile, the Death Eater turned and disapparated.

O_O

Draco stared at the spot where the thin wizard stood just a second ago. Now, not even an indent on the grass signified that anyone once stood there at all. He wasn't quite sure what went on in Nott's head, but for once, the uncertainty did not faze him. As far as he knew, he was free to leave his prison in the manor, free to go search for his mother, and free to figure out a way to rescue his father. A surge of joy swept through him so rapidly and violently that it successfully dulled the pain caused by the Dark Mark.

"Did he…did he just let us go?"

The uncertain voice of Ron Weasley brought Draco's emotions back under control. It was not without disappointment and a slight twinge of weariness when he turned to face the small group of redheads.

The first thing that caught his eyes was the injured twin, sitting slumped against a tree. The pale skin shown almost ethereally white and was stained disturbingly with a large amount of blood. Tattered and ripped clothing hung on his thin frame by mere strands, doing very little to cover the amount of lashes distributed all across the torso. Red-rimmed eyes looked back at Draco in a defensive glare.

"You don't look too well," Draco commented. He raised an eyebrow in amusement when the Weasley snorted in reply and hissed in pain immediately afterward.

"Of course he isn't well," the female Weasley scoffed, although worry was largely evident in her tone. She hurriedly bent down to her brother's side, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. "Those bastards tortured him."

"Yes, I can see that." Draco watched the rise and fall of the bloodied chest, taking note of any irregularities. "Judging from Voldemort's absence from the manor and what I've heard, you told them everything they wanted to know." When no one denied him, Draco continued, "As much as I despise your lot, I figured you wouldn't break under some torture." For once, Draco's words held no venom. Instead, he sounded almost conversational as he continued his study of the injured Weasley.

"He didn't give anything away!" Draco watched as Potter's sidekick stepped toward him in anger. The redhead stopped suddenly though, and gave a sheepish glance toward the other twin.

Draco noticed and glanced at the older wizard himself. Technically speaking, this twin looked well, if not somewhat dirty and worn. However, a closer inspection of his face revealed a suffering that Draco believed could surpass even his own. "You're George, correct?"

The twin returned his gaze steadily, giving Draco full view of the anguish fermenting behind the blue orbs. He had always been adept at reading expressions and emotions, and it took very little for Draco to understand what the other was feeling. After giving him a slight nod, Draco broke the gaze to look around at their surroundings.

"We should rest here for the night." The choice was not ideal, but it was clear that the other twin, Fred, wasn't likely to move anytime soon. He hoped whatever Voldemort wanted kept the Death Eaters occupied for long enough. "We'll have two on watch at all times, in case Nott comes back. Once everyone is rested, we'll follow the path out of the forest and hopefully to civilization. From there, you Weasleys can try to contact your family or the Order…if any of them are still alive." Ignoring the feeling that the last bit was quite unnecessary and cruel, Draco shrugged off the bag that Pansy had given him and opened it to rummage through its contents. "There is a place where you can wash yourselves a few meters that way," Draco gestured vaguely to his right. "Frankly, you all reek and I'd rather not live through the smell in the next few days. I understand you lot are accustomed to filth, being dirt poor as you are, but it wouldn't help if I passed out from the stench coming off you. Ah," Draco pulled out a silk pouch roughly the size of a hand from the bag and tossed it on the ground ahead of him. "Soap. Please use it."

The female Weasley went to stand a couple of feet in front of him, squinting into his eyes. Draco raised his eyebrows when the girl placed both hands on her hips and leaned toward him. "We're in this together, you insufferable git, and this would be much easier if we all lay aside the unpleasantness until we're all out of this mess. How about it? Hmm?" She gestured with a hand toward herself as well as her brothers. "I'm Ginny. That's Ron, George, and Fred. You're Draco. No more Weasley and no more Malfoy. Let's put this family stuff behind us…for now."

"Ginny." Potter's sidekick spoke up, rolling his eyes and sneering at Draco. "You give him too much credit. He wouldn't know how to be civil even if his life depended on it. In fact," he took a step toward Draco, drawing himself up to his fullest height. "I say we're better off without him now. I see the path, and there's water all around us. We don't need him."

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Call off your attack dog, Ginny. Actually, it will be my absolute pleasure to comply with your wishes." He gracefully bent down to scoop up the soap and offered it to the girl with an exaggerated bow. His heart lurched slightly in excitement when he did not feel his wound give even the smallest twinge of pain. "If it so pleases you, there is a pond nearby in which you may wash yourselves from the grime of our journey. Or, if you rather, I could make a path of scented roses so that your precious feet need not touch this soil upon which we meager men humbly walk on? Oh yes, that sounds most appropriate. May I be excused so I can start on it right away, Ginny?"

Ginny curled her lips in disgust, turning up her nose at him. She snatched the soap from him, grabbed Sophie's small hand, and stalked off in the direction Draco had pointed earlier with a huff. Sophie had to run to catch up with her, else she trip and fall in her haste.

The pond wasn't far, and Draco did not think it possible for them to get lost so he decided not to call them back. Instead, he glanced at Ron, who was still glaring at him near his station at his injured brother's side. "Well, Ron, I believe Nott never did answer my question of whether he was alone. If you want to guarantee your sister's safety, go past those bushes there and circle around all the trees with those blue blossoms. Those trees mark the border of the pond. If you see someone, you may fight them if you want, or you may come back here and alert us."

Ron glanced at Fred and George, and then crossed his arms. "I won't take orders from you, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "Alright, then."

He fastened the clasp on the bag, shouldered it, and walked without another glance at the Weasleys toward the clump of bushes he had mentioned. It was quite thick and tall – it grew a little past his waist – and it gave him pause. However, encouraged by his wound's lack of pain earlier, he placed one hand upon its top and vaulted over the bushes without feeling any discomfort. Silently marveling at the effectiveness of the bandages, Draco headed deeper into the forest, making sure to keep the border of blue-blossomed trees to his right. Steps silent even upon the forest floor, his eyes swept across his surroundings, pausing at anything that seemed suspicious.

A few minutes into his journey, he became aware of footsteps behind him. The intruder was by no means attempting to be silent and so did not cause him alarm. Draco stopped and glanced over his shoulder.

It was George, the twin who had given out information about the Order. Somehow, Draco was not surprised to see him. The older wizard stopped when he saw Draco looking at him and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

"Do you need something?" Draco asked, keeping his tone polite.

George held his gaze for a moment, and then looked away and down. "You said there should be two on watch." He jerked his head back the way he had come. "Ron's looking after Fred."

Whether it was from the subdued tone or the fact that this Weasley wanted to follow his orders, Draco was shocked. From what he had seen and heard of the infamous Weasley twins, he would never have thought any of them to act like this. He never could imagine any of them so listless and despondent and…obedient.

"Okay," Draco said after he had regained his composure. He resumed his walk, gesturing at the other to follow. "I'm making a circuit around the pond and back opposite the place where we'll be camping for tonight. The sun will set in about…" he glanced up and found the sun past the tangle of branches. "…five hours. We should be back before then. If we meet someone, I'll take care of it. You'll keep on the lookout for any back up."

The twin did not answer but instead kept up pace to Draco's left. From time to time, Draco would glance at him from the corner of his eyes, and each time, he would see the same thing: head down, eyes glued to the ground, messy red hair covering the face, hands in pockets. Draco raised his eyes heavenward but left the other to his wallowing.

The pair walked silently along the path Draco had chosen. Although it was the middle of summer, the heat was not intense. Along with large patches of shade provided by myriad trees, there was a pleasant breeze glancing against their skins, giving them a much needed break from the dustiness of the secret tunnel. Birds began to chirp as they realized the wizards were not a threat to them or their homes. Any other animals, if any did live in this forest, hid themselves, and to Draco, it seemed as if they were the only ones walking the grounds among the trees.

Draco glanced at Weasley again and found himself staring into surprisingly clear blue eyes. There was none of the misery or guilt that Draco had seen before. It seemed as if he had finally pulled himself together.

"Stop that," George said, lifting his head and frowning at Draco.

"Stop what?" Draco asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Looking at me." When Draco snorted in reply, George gave a slight smirk. Here, his entire appearance seemed to change and now Draco could see the annoying prankster who had both annoyed and delighted others with his mischief at Hogwarts. "My little brother hates you. Harry does too. I've never questioned their judgments, since I see you as nothing but a self-serving, snobby brat, myself."

"I will not hold it against you, as I know you Weasleys are quite myopic in everything excluding the Golden Boy and Dumble…" Draco cut himself off.

George's eyes caught the blond's hands clenching into fists and watched silently as his back tensed and the usually light gray eyes harden into steel. "Touchy subject, Dumbledore, is it? Feeling guilty, Malfoy? You did kill him."

I did not kill him, was the first thought that came to mind, but he did not voice it. Instead, Draco narrowed his eyes at him. "You would've done the same." When the other sneered in contempt, Draco gestured back to the campsite. "Was it not you who gave up information regarding your Order? Was it not you who allowed Voldemort and his Death Eaters to storm into your base?" With every word he spoke, Weasley became more and more distressed, but Draco could not stop. "Was it not you who gave up everything to save your brother? You betrayed your own dear Order, your precious Potter and Dumbledore, because you couldn't stand to see him hurt."

"Yes," George spoke up, putting an end to Draco's tirade. "I betrayed them all. I…I needed to save him. They were going to kill him if I didn't let them use legilimency on me. Fred…he would never let down his shields. He'd never give them what they wanted. Ginny and Ron weren't given the coordinates, so I was the only one who could save him."

"And I needed to save my parents," Draco replied gently. The coldness that always accompanied any thoughts about Dumbledore was gone and was replaced with a strange feeling of pity. Here was someone who had faced a decision similar to his own, and despite the feud between their families, Draco could still find it in himself to sympathize with the other. Besides, he had renounced his family's loyalty to the Dark Lord and his belief of pureblood supremacy. How hard was it to give up a feud? They were all simply trying to survive this war.

George glanced sharply at him, surprised by Draco's tone. Then, he narrowed his eyes. "Don't try to convince me to tell you what happened to your mum. You're getting us out of here first."

Draco laughed. A real, amused laugh. It was the first time he had freely laughed in a long while and it surprised him as well as the twin. "We'll be out of here by tomorrow. Like I said before, this forest isn't that big. We could actually leave today, if only…" Once again, Draco gestured toward the campsite.

George nodded. "Fred," he said.

"Yes." Draco looked around them. "I don't think there's anyone else here but us. Good for us, but could be a bad thing for your friends back home." Seeing George grimace, Draco shrugged. "Don't worry about them. The Order is strong; otherwise Voldemort would've attacked in earnest when I let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. There's a reason why he was cautious. Even without Dumbledore, he knows he has to be careful against you people. I doubt any recent attacks will destroy them completely."

Once again George looked at him in surprise, but Draco ignored it. Here he was, comforting a Weasley. What would Father think if he saw him now? Would he be livid? Annoyed? Struck speechless? For some odd reason, Draco felt slightly satisfied.

"Why Malfoy," George began, smiling in mirth. "You seem to be a whole new person. This new person is much more to my taste. I shall call this new person Draco, and you shall call me George, Draco."

Draco rolled his eyes. "We will call a truce for now, Weasley. As of right now, I am the enemy of both sides of this war, and your words may mean the difference between my continued freedom and another cell at the other side."

"Who is this Weasley you are talking to? I believe I already told you my name is George."

"Yes, whatever. We should continue the circuit and head back to camp."

Just when the pair resumed their walk, Draco heard a crash in the direction from which they came, followed by a muffled voice and running footsteps. He glanced at George, who stared incredulously in the direction of the sound. "A Death Eater, you think?" he asked.

Draco frowned. "I don't think so. We are no longer under the manor's anti-apparation wards. Death Eaters have wands, so they would apparate to us. They wouldn't run and allow us to hear them coming." When he said the word "ward," a niggle of confusion wormed its way into his head although he did not know why. Concentrating, he turned the word over and over in his mind, thinking back to the long list of wards the manor contained to try to trigger the right answer.

His efforts were interrupted when a panicked Ron Weasley appeared among the trees, running as fast as he could toward them. When he saw his brother, George ran to meet him. Draco followed at a slower pace, his thoughts still bothering him.

"George!" Ron exclaimed. His eyes were wide and terrified. "I-I-I don't think…Fred…he-he started coughing up blood! I don't know what it means, and I don't know what to do."

With that, George cursed and started running back to the campsite faster than Draco thought possible. Ron followed his brother without even a glance at Draco, clutching his sides in obvious pain and gasping in exhaustion.

Draco frowned. Coughing up blood? With him having so many cuts, both shallow and deep, in his chest and back? Draco sighed. The poor sod may have gotten an infection. Out here in the forest, with no wand or access to his potion supplies, an infection is deadly and there's really no point in running back as the outcome would be the same regardless.

Just then, Draco remembered his own wound, and the idea that popped into his mind almost immediately afterward was not something that he was happy about. Actually, he was quite disgusted with himself for thinking it up in the first place.

"Well, fuck." he sighed, and began to run back to camp.