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: Violence, language

Chapter 11

He was surprised the violent jerking of the portkey didn't kill him, and when the group landed roughly upon an unkempt lawn belonging to what seemed to be an ancient, abandoned shack, Draco almost wished it did. Regret had hit him full force the instant he touched the portkey and felt the familiar tugging around his middle. He couldn't even prepare himself for the excruciating pain that he knew was coming.

It had to be a miracle that his insides had not all spilled out in the split second journey to who-knows-where. Draco knew he was bleeding at an alarming rate, judging by his shirt being ridiculously damp and heavy with the stuff. It hurt to breathe and it hurt to move, but here he was…faced with three grown Death Eaters unarmed.

Draco wasn't stupid though. He wasn't brave. He wasn't reckless. No way would he willingly sacrifice his life for anyone other than his family, and the Weasleys were definitely not his family. No, he didn't activate the portkey for the Weasleys. Of course not.

Draco saw a chance, and he took it. There was no fucking way he'll allow himself to be hauled back into Voldemort's hands. Hell, he'd do anything to avoid that.

"Blaise," Draco managed to gasp, after spitting out the blood that had suddenly filled his mouth. He tried to pick himself up off the grass, squinting at the Death Eater nearest to him through his unexpectedly blurry vision.

Without a word, the Death Eater placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, firmly pushing him back down to the ground. Before Draco could even blink, the wizard raised his wand and aimed two stunning spells one right after the other toward his two partners.

Crabbe went down immediately. Draco swore that he felt the ground shake a little when the big man collapsed.

The last Death Eater was more nimble, and managed to cast a shield to repel the stun spell before it could hit him. Not even a second passed by when he threw the Cruciatus Curse repeatedly toward them. The anger in his movements was obvious. Quick and vicious, the spells flew toward Draco's protector, but fortunately, none found their target.

The two Death Eaters dueled tirelessly. Their moves were efficient, merciless, and seemingly never-ending. The slightly electric feel to the air was giving Draco a headache, and that combined with the damn wound he got out of nowhere made him a very miserable Draco indeed.

Draco blinked rapidly when darkness once again threatened to overwhelm his vision. He was losing consciousness.

Trying to keep himself awake, he shook his head vigorously…or tried to. His movements were sluggish and weak. Draco could practically feel his body slowing further down with every second that passed. The sounds of the battle registered vaguely inside his head as well as the loud creaking of the shack as the wind buffeted against it, and he struggled to watch the duel with his failing vision.

Just as Draco began to wish it to be over – the battle or his life, it didn't matter – the opposing Death Eater surprisingly staggered backwards, and his wand arm jerked up as he tried to regain his balance.

His protector immediately took the opportunity to utter the incantation that Draco would never in a million years expect to come out of his friend's mouth. "Avada Kedavra."

The distinct metallic smell of the curse, as well as the cold ruthless tone that said it, sent chills traveling up Draco's spine. Without even noticing it, his eyes closed tight and he curled into himself while his body began to shiver uncontrollably as if the weather were frigid instead of the current warm breeziness of summer.

Inexplicably, he was pulled back to that fateful night atop Hogwart's tower, witnessing the first of many casualties of a blossoming war. Severus's emotionless and unhesitant incantation of the Unforgivable Curse had sent a nasty shock through Draco's body, successfully numbing him so that very little of the journey afterward could be remembered. He had felt so cold that night.

When a hand pushed him gently onto his back, Draco wanted to pull away. Only when the hand shook his shoulder roughly did he open his eyes to escape the repeating image of Dumbledore's falling dead body, and found himself staring into the face of a very old friend.

"Blaise…" Draco studied the regal face in front of him, a mixture of gratefulness and confusion whirling inside him. His guess back in the forest had been correct; he had recognized Blaise's voice and gestures, and with barely any thought, practically handed his life to his friend without much hesitation. Although his risk paid off – he was still alive, after all – Draco wasn't sure how he felt seeing a close friend wear the same white mask that had adorned all of his tormentors for the last few months.

Currently, that white mask was gone, and in its place were haughty, elegant features that were currently arranged in a strange combination of horror and exasperation. Looking so familiar, and yet so bizarre in these surroundings, Blaise Zabini crouched down near him, looking more concerned as his gaze swept down to take in his bloody shirt.

"What are you doing here?" Draco asked, bringing the other's attention back to his face. "Since when have you been a Death Eater?"

Blaise twirled his wand nervously, but did not answer his questions. Instead, he looked back up toward the Death Eater he had just killed and asked, "Did you bring a child with you?"

Draco blinked, caught off guard by the inquiry. "I…don't believe so." He answered slowly, thinking back to the last time he saw the young muggle. He thought the girl had stayed by Ginny's side, although he wasn't so sure.

Blaise snorted. "Alright. But can you explain to me why out of nowhere, a little kid ran up behind Abel and pulled on his trousers?"

Draco's face scrunched in confusion and he turned his head slightly to look toward the fallen Death Eater, not quite knowing what to expect. A jolt of disbelief rushed through him when his eyes took in the picture of Sophie flat on her bottom, staring uncomprehendingly at the lifeless body not even a foot away from her. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"No idea, mate. I think you can explain that one better than me." Blaise chuckled and straightened up. "I didn't know you're making a habit of rescuing people, Draco." Unlike Nott's, his tone was playful instead of scathing, and a small part of Draco was relieved at that. "So what the hell happened to you? How'd you get injured again?"

Dragging his eyes away from Sophie's still form, Draco looked down upon himself. Almost reluctantly, he moved to open up his shirt. He normally had no trouble looking at blood, but when the blood was his own, he couldn't help but feel queasy. "I have no idea what Goyle did to me. I swear none of his spells hit," he murmured as his shaking fingers fumbled with the small buttons.

Once his shirt was open, the wound could barely be seen through the mess of blood that covered his skin. Draco struggled to keep from gagging while Blaise quickly murmured a cleaning charm. His friend froze when the thin, straight cut was revealed.

"Goyle didn't do this to you, you idiot. Where the hell are your bandages?"

Draco looked at him, not liking the urgent tone in his voice. He almost didn't want to tell the truth; he knew Blaise wouldn't appreciate his…generosity. Working in a nonchalant shrug, he said as casually as he could in his position, "I no longer needed it, so I gave it to someone who did."

Blaise gave him an incredulous look that was quite amusing on his usually stoic face and Draco smiled despite the intense pain he was feeling. "You thought you were healed?" Blaise asked.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Yes. Do the bandages not speed up healing?"

His friend let out an explosive sigh. "No…not even close." He dropped down to sit upon the overgrown grass and after glancing at Crabbe to make sure he was still stunned, he looked a Draco with a grim expression. "Those bandages were soaked in a potion that regresses your body's condition to the way it was at some moment in the past." His tone was slightly monotonous, as if he recited from a book. "It's primarily used by old people, who drink the potion to feel younger, but there's a catch: they aren't really younger…they just feel younger." Blaise gave Draco a pointed look.

"I was never healed?"

"No. I'm guessing when you took off the bandages, your body was slowly catching up with the present, and since there's no way a wound like that could've healed already, it showed up again…at a rather unfortunate time."

Draco groaned. "Fuck." The blond winced as he shifted to find a more comfortable position on the grass. He looked uncertainly at the dilapidated shack before looking back down at the cut in his middle.

It looked like a long scratch; not even three millimeters wide, it stretched from a little above his navel to disturbingly near where he assumed his heart to be. If it was the same wound that Voldemort inflicted upon him, Draco knew it was no mere scratch. He was stabbed straight through, and he knew that his back would show a similar mark.

His wound was bleeding steadily, and Draco wondered how in the world he was still alive. He looked up to find Blaise staring solemnly at him.

Uncannily, Blaise answered the question that he had not voiced. "The blade that Voldemort used held Nagini's poison. Her poison not only makes it harder for wounds to heal, but it also keeps you alive until she can devour you." Blaise smiled uncomfortably. "She likes to eat live wizards, you see. She likes to absorb their magic."

Draco frowned, the image of their Muggle Studies professor being swallowed whole flashed into his mind. After several moments of silence, during which Draco tried to settle on a breathing pattern that won't hurt too terribly, he removed the backpack that had remained unharmed through the brief encounter with Goyle and offered Blaise a wan smile. "You seem to know a lot," he remarked.

His friend nodded. "Yes. Professor Snape has kept me informed about you. He's been teaching me some things over the summer. I made those bandages, you know. With his supervision."

Draco frowned. Was that why Severus was absent throughout his imprisonment? He had to babysit Blaise?

Swallowing down the feeling of annoyance – it could've been jealousy, but he would never admit that – Draco suddenly jerked toward the now moving body of Crabbe, involuntarily letting out a hiss when his wound flared in warning.

Calmly, Blaise lifted his wand, and for the second time, casted the killing curse.

The green light flew past Draco's eyes, only a few centimeters away, and he watched the spell hit Crabbe in the side of his neck. The big man's movements abruptly stopped, and Draco felt as if his heart stopped with him.

He turned to look wide-eyed at Blaise, who looked back at him with a smug expression on his face. "Why'd you do that? That was Vince's father!"

Blaise shrugged. "Would you rather the big oaf attack me instead? Besides, the Dark Lord would've punished him anyways for letting you lot escape. He's better off getting killed by me or you." When Draco only continued to stare at him disbelievingly, Blaise made an impatient gesture with his hand. "C'mon you prat, you should be grateful I'm able to do it so you wouldn't have to."

Draco narrowed his eyes and scowled at the other boy. "I've seen too many lives wasted to just extinguish one like it's worth nothing. He could've had a chance."

A thin eyebrow rose in reply. "What a terribly Hufflepuff sentiment, Draco. I'd never thought I'd see the day."

"Not Hufflepuff at all, Blaise. It's called being human." Draco snapped at him. With difficulty, the blond forced his emotions to calm down, letting it all out in a heavy sigh, and rubbed his face tiredly. "What the hell are you going to do now? You just betrayed Voldemort. He'll kill you."

Blaise shrugged and with a slight frown of concentration on his face, conjured up a roll of clean bandages. "You betrayed the Dark Lord, and you're still alive."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, and I am doing absolutely grand at the moment." He didn't mention the fact that he had never deliberately betrayed Voldemort. Failed his mission and escaped, yes. Killed a couple of his followers, no.

He obediently shrugged off his shirt when Blaise gestured and held his breath as he casted another cleaning charm on his back. Interestingly, the slight sting of the spell could still be felt even among the pain caused by the wound.

Blaise chuckled as he wrapped the conjured bandages tightly around him. "At least you're not still stuck in your manor." Once Draco's torso was completely covered, he tied the ends of the bandages into an efficient knot. "These might deteriorate in the next few hours. Conjuring's never been my strong point, unfortunately, but I'll put a stasis charm on it for now, and knowing you, you'll figure something out after I leave."

Draco looked at him in alarm. "What? You're leaving?"

"Yes. I have to report back to Professor Snape and let the Dark Lord know that retrieval was a failure, and I was the only survivor." He said it so simply, as if there weren't dozens of ways that his plan could backfire and he may end up tortured or dead. Blaise flashed Draco a rare grin and stood up, brushing off stray blades of grass.

"What?" Draco repeated. He could feel a rising panic inside him, and with difficulty, pushed himself off the ground. "You're insane! Voldemort will fucking kill you! Stay with me." With Blaise's help, he managed to stand without wobbling. The heaviness in his head seemed to have disappeared, leaving him painfully aware of his own ragged breathing.

"He wouldn't. I wasn't ordered to look after you prisoners. I'd say Nott would be in some trouble, but I'm safe." He smiled gently, and the expression was so unusual for him that Draco took a step back, feeling unnecessarily disturbed. "I would stay, Draco, really, but I need to see through this war to the end. You might've lost the Dark Lord's favor, but with Professor Snape's help, I'm quickly rising through the ranks, and pretty soon, I may gain a position in his inner circle."

It was hard not to gape at his friend. "Why the hell would you want that?"

Blaise stared back at Draco, his expression turning slightly confused. "I want a bigger role in the war," he answered. When the blond's face became even more incredulous, Blaise shifted on his feet. "What? Just because you've fallen out of grace with the Dark Lord, I should meekly follow you and give up my goals as well? I want to win, Draco. I want to put those muggles and mudbloods in their place and make them see our superiority. It's what we dreamed about countless times in Hogwarts."

"All the things we've fantasized in Hogwarts were part of our childhood games, Blaise. This war isn't a game; you can get hurt. You can get killed. Trust me, damn it; I've learned the hard way." His voice was verging on pleading, but Draco didn't care.

Blaise's expression turned cold. "You failed your task, Draco, and so you got punished. If you weren't so selfish on winning all the glory in sixth year, you could've asked for my help and you wouldn't be stuck in this position. You've had your chance, and now it is my turn." He stared silently at Draco for a few seconds, then turned away. "You're not like how you used to be, and I no longer know, so…where do you stand now, Draco?"

Draco was highly tempted to simply shrug off the last few months, as well as his entire sixth year, and give the answer his friend wanted to hear. Tell him that he still gave a shit about blood purity. That he still cared about gaining power over the weak. That he adored and respected the Dark Lord and everything he stood for. But in all honesty, he was tired of it all. He looked at Blaise apologetically. "Not with Voldemort," he answered.

Blaise nodded absently, as if he expected that reply. He murmured a spell, and Crabbe's and Abel's wands flew to his hand. Another spell brought Abel's body flying toward Crabbe until the dead body landed sloppily over the large form. Ignoring the still silent Sophie, he walked past her to the Death Eaters he had killed and paused with one hand firmly grabbing their sleeves.

"I'm going back, and I won't tell anyone where you are. I owe you that much as a friend." Without a last look at Draco, he Disapparated.

The loud crack seemed to jolt Sophie out of her trance. Draco watched her as she blinked slowly and looked around. When her eyes caught Draco's own, they widened and the girl leapt up to her feet and stumbled the few steps to his side. Her hand firmly grasped the side of his trousers again and she gazed up at him, frowning slightly. "Magic is scary," she commented solemnly.

Draco snorted, but didn't reply. He was still reeling from Blaise's abrupt departure. He was uncertain of whether he should be glad his friend had saved him from a trip back to his prison or terrified of what Blaise may be subjected to once back under Voldemort's clutches.

He tried to tell himself he shouldn't worry. Blaise had chosen to go back. He wanted to fight this war. Draco grimaced, as in his head came an unbidden thought that the only reason he himself wanted to avoid this war was because he was afraid. Compared to Blaise, he was a coward.

Draco sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use mulling over these things. He had made his decision, and it really was too late to change it. With difficulty, he tried to garner some of that determination he had felt the moment he led the Weasleys and the muggle out of his kitchen, picked up Pansy's backpack, and turned toward the ramshackle building.

Barely suppressing his contempt – this was what passed as a safehouse for the Order? – he stepped toward it. Sophie matched his step without a word. "This will be our new home for awhile; what do you think?" he asked conversationally as they walked up the path to the rotting wooden door.

A glance at the girl's fascinated face made him smile slightly, and with a start of surprise, he realized he was glad of her company. He never did like being alone.

Throwing the slightly disturbing realization out of his mind, Draco reached for the rusty doorknob. All he really wanted was a place to sleep, and even though he knew he probably shouldn't trust Blaise's word and that he should get him and Sophie as far away from here as possible, Draco couldn't find the energy to care.

Exhausted, hungry, and with his wound throbbing painfully, Draco let Sophie enter the house before him, and with an amused expression on his face at her obvious excitement, he followed her.