tick-tock | a drarry tale

XXV.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked quietly. Voldemort only smiled and turned away.

"Bella, bring Lucius and Narcissa to me," he commanded calmly, sure that she would do what she was told to do.

Sure enough, Harry heard the clamber of footsteps and hushed voices. Moments later, Draco's parents emerged from the crowd, cloaked like the Death Eaters around them.

Narcissa's gasp reverberated around the room; the sight of her son bloody and on the verge of death too much to handle.

"What have you done?" she wailed, unable to stay straight in front of the Dark Lord. She glanced at her husband, who was standing stock-still, waiting for his lord's command. Eyes wide, she looked at Harry, looking for some assurance.

Harry shook his head.

"Now, now," Voldemort cooed, sauntering closer to the Malfoys. "Narcissa, it would do you good to keep that mouth of yours shut-"

"But he's my son!" Draco's mother snapped, standing up to Voldemort.

The multitude of Death Eaters gasped and murmured, frightened at what the Dark Lord would do.

"No," Draco croaked from the floor, his eyes set on his mother.

Voldemort's eyes turned into slits, and he wrapped a pale fist around the collar of Narcissa's cloak and pulled her close. Lucius shifted on his feet, a flash of worry lighting up in his eyes.

"How dare you speak to me in that tone," he sneered. Narcissa cringed away, her eyes shut. She thought for sure she was taking her final breaths. "I guess I will have to punish you." Abruptly, the Dark Lord released her, flinging her back next to her husband. Harry noticed tears streaming down her face, her eyes still on her son.

Harry looked back at Draco, who glanced back at him. Dirt, blood and tears covered his delicate features, and Harry had to fight the urge to run over and cradle his face.

Voldemort turned back and stepped toward Harry, who couldn't move a single muscle.

"Do you want to know why you're here, Potter? Do you want to know why I haven't killed you yet?" he asked as if he was asking which House had won the Quidditch match last Saturday. Harry didn't answer, only glared at him. Venom was pumping through his veins, and all he wanted to do was kill the monster standing in front of him. "I want you" -he sidestepped so Draco was in Harry's line of sight- "to kill him." He pointed at Harry's boyfriend, a smug smile plastered on his face.

Harry froze: his muscles went stiff, his toes curled, and the hand carrying his wand went limp, resulting in his weapon to fall to the dusty, stone floor. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Voldemort.

"No."

Voldemort's grin deepened.

He walked closer to Harry, picking up his fallen wand. Voldemort held it close to his face and examined it.

"Fine wand, this is. Very powerful." He looked back at Harry and gripped the boy's wrist, placing the wand into his palm.

Harry slid his wrist from Voldemort's grip, his teeth bared.

"Don't touch me," he choked out, raising his wand. "I'm not going to kill Draco! Never!"

Several Death Eaters advanced forward, noticing the threat, but their lord waved them off.

"Don't!" he snapped at them, and they cowered back into the crowd. He focused his attention back on Harry.

"Why don't you kill me, instead?" Harry asked, his temper rising.