By The Light Of A Dying Flame ~ Drarry Fanfic

Chapter 8: Draco

Draco had never been so physically miserable in his entire life. He'd been born into one of the wealthiest Wizard families in Britain, with servants and house elves at his beck and call since he was old enough to string words together. Now all he had was an angry half-blood prat, a throbbing chest, and a venomous ache in his stomach. He was exhausted and bloody filthy, and if he'd known he was going to spend several nights sleeping upright on a damp, rotting couch, he may have taken his chances with the Dark Lord.

At least he would be rid of Potter soon, the Gryffindor prick. Although, Draco didn't necessarily relish the idea of being dropped in some bucolic wizard village with nothing to aid him but his own brains. Draco was a lot of things, but resourceful wasn't necessarily one of them.

"You ready, then?" Potter asked now, looking around the shack one last time as they prepared to depart.

Draco raised an eyebrow before gesturing down at his bare torso. "Oh no," he said in a thin monotone, "I forgot to pack my silks." He recalled the way Potter had given him his jacket to use as a pillow when he was bleeding out, but apparently that particular flavor of generosity had run dry.

Potter shook his head, decidedly not finding humor in Draco's comment, and turned toward the door. Draco followed him outside, the moon beginning to break through the clouds, skating across the water like a skipped pebble. Potter raised his hands and began to disarm the protection spells. When he'd finished, he moved next to Draco and placed a hand around his wrist, the warmth of his fingers sending goosebumps shooting up Draco's arm.

Without warning, he was yanked into the swirling nothingness of Apparition. He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the pressure of Potter's fingers on his skin until his feet slammed hard onto cobblestones. He opened his eyes, fixing them on a lamppost until the dizziness subsided.

Potter stepped away, turning to regard him with serious emerald eyes from behind round glasses. "You think you can manage from here?"

"You haven't given me much of a choice," he snapped, but a deep sense of unease had burrowed in his chest. He glanced up and down the quiet lane, the streetlamps only pinpricks of light in an otherwise deeply dark night.

As Potter opened his mouth to reply, a sound like lightning cracking in the middle of the road ricocheted through the silent village. Both Potter and Draco whipped around, moving instinctively toward each other as black hooded figures appeared on all sides. One of the figures cackled, pulling off the hood to reveal Travers, an ugly grin on his pale, thin face. "Harry Potter," he said, his tone far too jovial for the situation. "And Mr. Malfoy," he added, turning to leer at Draco.

Draco glanced at Potter, whose knuckles were white as they gripped the hawthorn wand, his green eyes trained on Travers. "How did you find me?" Potter asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

"We didn't," Travers said, before pointing at Draco, "We found him."

Draco's mouth popped open like a beached fish. He felt Potter's gaze on the side of his head as he stared at Travers. "Me?" he asked weakly.

Travers chuckled, and it echoed down the lane, aftershocks from an earthquake. "Yes, you," he said haughtily. "Did you really think the Dark Lord was going to let your stupid family go running off again after all the mistakes you've made?"

Draco glanced around at the other Death Eaters, but he couldn't make out any of their faces under their hoods. He thought of his parents, trapped in the Manor, surrounded by people who almost certainly wished for their downfall, if just to use their bodies as step stools. "Are my parents—" he began, shaking the panic away from his trembling hands before he continued, "Are my parents alive?"

"For now," Travers said, his gaze sliding to Potter, hovering for a moment on the slight gap between the two boys, the way Potter had his wand arm raised ever so slightly in front of Draco. "You two seem a bit cozy."

Coldness plunged through Draco's stomach. "He's been holding me hostage," he insisted, stepping toward Travers and away from Potter.

"Something tells me that isn't quite true," Travers said as he glanced back and forth between the two boys, a maniacal grin spreading across his face, like a skull above his cloak. "Perhaps the Dark Lord will let you die together."

Draco's eyes widened, his heart attempting to tear itself from his chest. Before he could think of something to say that could possibly save him, save his parents, repair any of the damage he'd caused with his own stupid, clumsy hands in the past two years, Potter had pointed his wand at Travers, shouting "Stupefy!" A flash of red light hit him square in the chest, sending him flying backwards and toppling into another Death Eater. The other figures lifted their wands, and Potter leapt across the circle, tackling Draco to the ground. They collided together, pain vibrating through Draco's entire upper body as he slammed into the cobblestones, Potter on top of him. Spells flared over their heads, and Potter's green eyes bore down into his, his glasses reflecting flashes of red and white light. "Hold onto me," he said fiercely.

Draco barely had time to wrap his hands around Potter's wrists, his fingers numb from cold and terror, before he was sucked into oblivion once again.