Save Me

WAITING

Hermione's grand plan was waiting. It had been three days since he'd seen her. Unfortunately, Draco's dreams, or memories, had become even more prominent.

She was everywhere.

She consumed him. Mainly because he couldn't read her. He replayed their conversation countless times, to the point where he wasn't sure he remembered it correctly. When he asked her about the library, she seemed shocked, why? Malfoy theorized it had been a long time ago, maybe something she only vaguely remembered. But they were friends? How did that happen? There were so many unknowns, it was maddening.

Before she left, Hermione informed Draco that there would be a signal. Something small, not too conspicuous, but he would know it was different than his usual routine. Draco would do his best to get out of his room by faking an illness or medical emergency. Then, by some unknown force, Hermione and the others would "extract" him.

Bloody hell, how were they going to manage an Azkaban prison break? It was a shit plan, however, Draco figured that dying would be worse.

There was no plan B. Malfoy wasn't surprised, it seemed that the Golden Trio always did things according to their Gryffindor hearts, and forgot their heads. Draco calculated that there was about a 10 percent chance that their plan worked and everyone made it out alive. (he even generously allocated luck to their side.) Given the only obstacles that stood between Malfoy and his freedom were hidden deadly curses, soul-sucking dementors, and about 3 dozen more experienced witches and wizards determined to ward Azkaban. Draco didn't even have a wand. Great, make it about 8 percent then.

He felt useless waiting for others to fabricate his rescue. His current condition, including his arm and physical fatigue, would prevent him from being much help. God, he hoped, someone better remember to bring me a wand. Not that they would likely trust me with it, given that I'm currently the most wanted individual for the use of dark magic and war crimes.

Additionally, trying not to think about his arm only made him think of it more. Draco risked unwrapping the bandages made from torn towels. The site looked unnaturally swollen and seemed to be coated in a yellowish substance. It burned and felt warm. Infection? Probably. It's what I deserve after what I've done, he thought. Draco at least washed out the cut with some of his water and reapplied the bandages, wincing from the pain. It almost hurt worse than when he tried to remove his Mark. Without a better idea, he decided to rest and conserve his energy, that way, he could be of the most help when the time came. Draco lapsed into another dream.

–

Draco felt something cold hit his cheek- snow. It was late winter near the holidays and he had traveled to Hogsmeade. As he entered the Honeydukes Sweetshop to pick up a package, he suddenly had a thought. He quickly paid for the small brown bag and turned into the Tomes and Scrolls bookshop. Draco remembered something his father said about the known quality of the texts and decided a book would be the perfect addition to his growing list of gifts. The quick trip turned into three hours of scaling the shelves. He had to find the perfect one, not just something common that anyone could find. He had asked to see the rare books section, and circled from a signed first edition copy of The Origins of Norwegian Mythical Beasts, all the way to Advanced Integration of Runic Arithmetic into Complex Wards. Only 25 copies exist to-date.

In the end, Malfoy bought both.

It was just money and luckily, his family had access to more than he could ever spend. Draco was never one to care for expensive gifts and would prefer a thoughtful present instead. His parents always bought him a gift that conveniently conveyed their family's status- like the Nimbus 2001s gifted to the entire Slytherin Quidditch team during 2nd year. Somehow, the rumor spread that Draco's father had bought his place on the team, even though Malfoy had already been named Seeker before the brooms were purchased. Not that it really mattered, but Draco secretly hated how his access to money always seemed to outshine his personal accomplishments. He guessed everyone needed someone to aim their animosity towards, and his money made him an easy target. If Draco had been sensitive, it might have bothered him. Luckily, he was not.