Muggle With Magic

Doppelganger?

Warning:
Emotional distress. A lot of emotional distress

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It was dark. Everywhere.

Still half asleep, just coming to, Draco opened his eyelids to be surrounded by the suffocating walls of nothingness. He may as well close his eyes again because there would be no difference in vision. Trying to stretch, Draco found his wrists bound to the back of the most uncomfortable chair in the world, and his legs only partly trapped - he was rather tall to be roped to a chair.

"HEY!" He yelled, "IS ANYONE THERE! HELLO?" Draco didn't think he could be louder. However, he quietened when he heard more than one pair of footsteps

"You cannot kidnap a kid, Moody!" One voice exclaimed.

"I can if the kid will help us win." Came the voice of his kidnapper.

The first voice sighed, "How do you know you had the right kid? Wasn't he in muggle London? Why would his father allow his heir to wonder muggle London?"

A silence followed and Draco saw that as an opportunity: Voice One seemed concerned, genuine. "HELP! PLEASE HELP ME!"

"Moody, move away from the door." Voice One demanded. Something happened because there was a clatter against the wall that made Draco jump out of his skin.

The click of a lock somehow snapped Draco's head in the direction of the door. Angling his head up slightly, Draco hoped he was looking in the man's eyes. "Please, help me." He begged. More footsteps circled him. Draco really didn't know how much sight and hearing were intertwined before this.

"I want to, Malfoy." The voice said. Terrified, Draco tried shrinking into the chair: how does this man know his name? The guy sighed, and Draco flinched when he felt a hand on his head. His rough palm feeling if he was too warm or too cold. Unwillingly, Draco whimpered. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

Shoes scuffing the floor.

"Are you thirsty, hungry?" Asked Voice One.

All Draco could do was sit in a tentative silence. Should he answer? Should he ignore? Slowly, the boy nodded his head. Just enough for it to look like he was saying yes. With his shaking and jittering, it could've come off as a no.

"Alright: can I remove the blindfold?" Softly asked the man, "Is it okay if I touch your head for that?"

"Y-y-yeah, yeah." He whispered. Although Draco was shaking inside and out, he tried his hardest to let out the word. It was barely anything but breathy.

When two hands went behind his head the blonde-haired boy stiffened. Slowly, the material fell from his eyes. Squinting, Draco's eyes blurred as he adjusted to the quite dim lighting.

He wore a beige trench coat over a brown button-up shirt. His light brown hair was slightly grown out just surpassing his ears. Draco didn't know what to make of it. His eyes also looked tired, like he hadn't slept in years. Much like his eyes, the man's shoes looked worn out: like they ran a thousand marathons after brought from a car-boot sale. He didn't look like Draco expected a kidnapper to look like.

The man brought his hand inside his coat and Draco knew. He new in that moment he should not have screamed his voice hoarse. Death would snatch him from life's grasp in the next few seconds. This was the end.

Expecting him to whip out a sharpened knife or a loaded gun, Draco squinted and leant back against the chair even more.

He pulled out a stick. A stick!

'This man is insane' Thought Draco. But he watched with senseless curiosity.

"Accio yoghurt." He moved the stick in an upside-down crescent moon. A glowing teal colour surrounded the tip of the stick which died when an apple flew to the man's hand. Draco's eyes widened. He was going mad: he was still unconscious, that had to be it. He repeated the same for a spoon, and for a glass.

"Aguamenti." He performed this in a curved flick, pointing the stick to the cup.

"What the fuck?" He whispered, trying to stand or even shuffle back against the wall.

"Florian" Asked the man, coming closer.

"No... No, no, no!" He screamed. "Get away from me!" Draco's eyes could not be wider. His palms sweating badly, his scalp feeling like it did after pe, shoulders stiffer than a wooden plank. "What are you?" When the man took a step closer, he screamed even louder.

But that was when the door flew open. There stood a man with curling hair to his shoulders, a matted black. His metallic eyes staring at Draco the same way the other man had but with an underlying hatred Draco didn't know where from. His clothes looked similar to the other mans, but of dark reds, burgundy and black. One shining, golden ear-piercing glimmered through his hair like a needle in a haystack.

"Florian, stop with the theatrics." The curly-haired man glared at him. Shrinking into himself, Draco whimpered - like he was trying to stop an involuntary scream escaping.

"I-I'm dreaming... I have to be dreaming." Tears formed in his eyes. "You're monsters." He directed to the two men, muttering it under his breath.

"We are the monsters?" curly-haired man exclaimed. Fire behind eyes so similar to his own. He stomped a step closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He sobbed on repeat.

Voice One grabbed the man's arm, "He's in distress, Sirius."

"He'll be more than in distress in a minute Moony." Like a hound, the man growled. The blonde boy apologised more, his sobs dying down into weak whimpers.

"Go and get a calming draught." Moony and Sirius held a gaze, "Something's wrong." Sirius sighed. Slumping, he exited the room.

"Kid, can you look at me?" He repeated the same thing. However, the grip on the man's stick attracted Draco's attention more. Realising this, Moony threw the stick to the door. It thumped as it rolled away. "I need you to calm down, okay?" It was working: the soothing words and comforting tone of Moony calmed his breaths and relaxed his running heartbeat.

Eyes closed, Draco didn't see Moony stand up from crouching and tip-toe over to the stick. Pick the stick up, and cast a spell on him. However, Draco suddenly felt like he was atop a fluffy cloud.