Chapter 14) The Right Words

Selected Listening: The Erkstag-James Newton Howard

Draco emerged with Anastasia from the tent into chaos. Flames danced among the tents, leaking smoke into the sky. Anastasia screamed.

They stood stunned for a moment. He kept one hand on her arm, there for comfort, but he couldn't do anything to erase what was happening. They needed to find their families. They needed to get out.

"The forest!" Anastasia shouted and pointed to the tree line. It wasn't ideal, but trying to find his mother and father in the panicking crowd would only be more dangerous. Draco ran after her, and they paused a few meters into the tree line.

Anastasia began to rant, "What the hell is going on? Death Eater resurrectionists? What kind of sick prank—"

"I'm sure…it's just a bit of fun and games," he answered lamely. He was aware of how lame his statement was, but he knew of those death eater resurrectionists. Friends of his father who would joke and laugh over the old times they had when Voldemort was at the height of his power.

"Torture is fun and games?" Anastasia asked critically.

"No…" Draco said, searching for anything that would calm his lifeline counterpart, "but I'm certain Blaise was exaggerating. You know how that one is, thrives on drama."

"There are tents on fire!" Anastasia yelled. "Someone could be hurt. There are already people hurt."

Wrong again, and now she was panicking even more. Draco searched the trees around them, aware they couldn't be completely alone with everyone running this way and that. He heard a series of whispers through the grass, footsteps charging at them.

"Keep your voice down," he whispered, and pulled her close to his side. If he couldn't say the right words, maybe body language would help. "There's someone coming."

But the group that entered the forest were not death eater resurrectionists, it was a group of motely Gryffindors. Potter and his lot, stumbling through the trees. Anastasia's friends.

Weasley caught his foot and fell straight onto his face. Draco couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Granger cast a lumos spell.

"Tripped on a tree root," Weasley admitted.

"Hard not to, with feet that size," Draco commented. Anastasia looked at him daringly. Wrong words again, and suddenly Weasley was cursing at him, rising to his feet, and stalking threateningly towards him.

"Language, Weasley." Draco countered politely and tried to find the words again, to end the conflict between them and refocus on finding someplace safe, "Shouldn't you hurry? You don't want her spotted, do you?" Draco gestured towards Hermione. He had seen the way Weasley looked at her. It was a similar teasing relationship he had with Anastasia before they admitted their feelings.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Granger demanded. Draco shuddered. He hadn't thought he'd said anything wrong that time.

"Granger, they're after muggles—" he emphasized.

"Hermione's a witch," Harry argued. Why didn't they understand?

Even in an emergency situation, the Gryffindorks were going to stand around and debate semantics.

"Have it your way!" he shot back, shrugging dramatically, "You think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are!"

Weasley charged him, Granger caught Weasley's arm and held him back.

"What is your problem?" Anastasia pulled away from Draco.

No, he thought. Definitely the wrong words. Whatever he said, it was almost always wrong, and this time he had gone too far.

The loud pop of a wand and more screams sounded.

"Scare easily, don't they?" Draco asked, trying one last time to change the subject. He stared at his enraged girlfriend, pleadingly.

"We need to keep running," Anastasia suggested. Draco's heart fell in his chest. Running. Great. He left his inhaler at his family's tent. He wasn't going to win this one. No matter how safe Anastasia was with him, she wouldn't believe it until her friends were safe too. He had to try one last time.

"Weezlebee's father might have told them to hide, but I'm not worried. Death Eater reenactors aren't going to hurt people like us," Draco said.

Anastasia's rage turned to spite.

"You told me you wouldn't start this—" she said, tone tinged with animosity.

"And where are your parents?" Potter interrupted. "Wearing the masks are they?"

Potter's accusation caught Anastasia's attention. Draco knew he wasn't going to win this argument, no matter what he did. Instead, he turned on a villainous, tormenting smirk.

"Well, if they were, I wouldn't likely tell you, Potter."

Anastasia backed away with her friends. Draco panicked and softened his tone.

"Anastasia, come on," he offered his hand, hoping she would change her mind. I can't run. He tried to say with his eyes. Stay here, please.

Draco watched as his girlfriend, his lifeline, his true love, shook her head and ran into the trees with her friends, leaving him amongst the smoke and flames.

"God dammit, Anastasia."

Draco was left alone, behind the tree, in the darkened forest. He tried to ignore the angry tears attempting to leave his eyes. He had ruined his one chance to show Anastasia he could behave around her friends. Would she even want to stay with him anymore?

Someone hit Draco's shoulder as they ran past. He looked behind him to see a hint of familiarity in the man's face, and the man's tongue flicked out as it had before when he stood in front of Borgin's. The man ran on. Draco stayed put. Moments later the sky erupted into an emerald snake and skull, the same direction where Anastasia and the Gryffindorks ran.

"Are you bloody kidding me?" Draco sighed as he began trekking towards where the symbol.

Yet what did he owe Anastasia? Chasing after her like this in his condition? He hadn't even found his own family yet.

Still, Draco walked on, deep into the forest until he heard Ministry voices drifting towards him. They demanded the Gryffindorks tell them who cast the spell, as Anastasia, Potter, and the rest begged them to see reason. The Ministry goons moved in Draco's direction, and he slunk off as quickly as he could towards the main campsite.

She would be safe now. She was with her people. He just wished he had found the right words to stay with her.

Draco trudged through the leftovers of the campsite, running faster as he reached the tent.

"Mum!" he yelled and embraced her as he approached.

"I was so worried. Where did you go? Where's Anastasia?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"She's…she found her lot, she's fine." He pointed back towards the dark mark. Narcissa let go of him, gasping in horror. Draco laughed bitterly.

"Trust me, she's fine. This is what they do. Get caught and end up doing half the Ministry's work for them," he joked. But it wasn't quite a joke. Anastasia and crew always seemed to end up where the most interesting thing…and the most dangerous thing…was happening.

"What's wrong? Where's father? Is he inside?" he asked his mother, whose eyes searched desperately over the campsite.

Narcissa shook her head blearily.

"He hasn't come back yet," she stated blankly. "I couldn't find him after the game. He ran off after you two, and I never saw him after that."

"He could be hurt!" Draco yelled.

"I'm right here…" Lucius strolled onto the campsite as if he'd just come back from an all-expenses paid holiday. "Now, come on, we should go home."

"Go home? Now?" Draco asked. "After everything that's happened?"

But his parents weren't listening to him.

"Where have you been?" Narcissa raged, swatting Lucius with a paper fan for Ireland. "You left me alone during all of this!"

Lucius grabbed the fan and used it to point back in her direction.

"You wouldn't have been alone if our son had been where he was supposed to be. Instead of galivanting about with his pig-headed girlfriend."

"What did you say?" Draco seethed.

"If you insist on dating the Dumbledore girl, I'll let you know my true thoughts. Now pack up. We're leaving."

"But—" Draco looked around. He wanted to say goodbye. To apologize. To see her one last time to make sure she was alright before another week in purgatory before term. "Please—"

"Draco, we're leaving," Narcissa said finally.

They packed up everything and vanished.

Draco apparated into the grand sitting room of the Manor with his parents. He stared down at his green duffle bag defeatedly. Lucius fell into his armchair and began rubbing his temples in exhaustion. His mother encroached on his father's left side.

"Come to the study," Narcissa growled in Lucius's ear.

"Fine," Lucius agreed, following her into the room at the bottom of the stairs.

Draco, knowing he would hear nothing more of his parents in the for the night, walked up the stairs alone with his suitcase. The house had been even more lonely and cold since Anastasia left. He paused at the door and stared at the room where she stayed.

If only he had found the right words.

He went to his room, slammed the door behind him, and launched himself face first into the comforter, brain awake with the happenings of the day, but physically overcome with exhaustion. He rolled over and stared up at his ceiling as his thoughts raced with brooms and flames and snogging and luxurious tents and smoke and screams.

Draco awoke mid-afternoon. He pulled himself up and found a barn owl tapping at the window.

Crenshaw brought him a letter from her. He read it and thought to himself for a moment. She might have been angry, but she still cared. She didn't mean to hurt him by running off. This wasn't the end of a short-lived fling.

Dear Anastasia,

It's alright. I'm sorry I insulted your friends, especially the mu Granger. I'm not very good at talking to them, I suppose. All for the better. I couldn't have run that far anyway. I'm glad to hear you're safe.

See you on the train,

Draco

He rolled it up and tied it with the same ribbon, believing this time he might have found the right words to ease the sting of his former transgressions. He tied it back to Crenshaw's leg, gave the bird a treat, and watched the familiar bird fly off into the distance.

Draco turned back to his book of Dark Magic sitting on the table beside his chair. He forgot his project at Blaise's tent. They had been working all day before the game. Surely, if Anastasia didn't forgive him completely when she received the note, she would once she saw the finished product. He grabbed the book, relaxed into his armchair, and started reading again.

He only had to find the right words.