Chilled Legacy

Chilled Legacy XVII

Chilled legacy XVII

"Draco, stop!" Hermione called as they turned the corner. It was a dead end.

The blond backed away towards the wall, hand raised in warning.

McGonagall was saying something to him, but neither Draco nor Harry were listening. Harry's mind was too clouded as he hazily analyzed the boy in front of him, trying to make sense of it all. Draco looked like a cat cornered by a pack of rabid dogs, eyes dancing rapidly. It didn't matter how gentle their barks were—in the end all he heard was run.

"Come with us," Harry managed to hear before Draco blasted at the floor, sending them flying towards the walls.

Harry landed with Ron, Astoria, and Hermione on the left, losing sight of the group on the opposite side as shimmering blue flakes began to fall and disperse on the ground. Blue? He touched the back of his head for damage.

Draco ran through the middle of the blast, not looking back.

Harry felt everything move in slow motion. His footsteps echoed in his ears at the pace of his heart, but they were still not fast enough. A couple more near captures later and they'd lost Draco after only a few minutes of chasing. Maybe he wasn't as fast as Harry, but the fact that he created an ice wall every time they got close greatly aided his escape.

It did no good to split up. If they did, none would be a match for him, that was evident from the fourth ice wall McGonagall and Hermione began melting.

Lucius and Narcissa had been left behind in the Great Hall and Harry suspected were with Slughorn, chasing alongside other last minute search parties.

Conversations and moments with Malfoy played in his head as they stood dumbstruck in the middle of the moving stairways arguing over left, right, up, or down.

"Malfoy is right. Maybe we should just find them and turn them in."

"Are you sure you can?" Draco replied.

"Finding them can't be that hard."

"Turning them in I mean."

"You said it yourself, it's the only way. Besides, it's not like they'll make me do the killing."

"In that moment you might as well be."

Harry bit his lip, looking around the stairwell. The memory hadn't even lasted a second before the other one flashed through his mind.

"Do you know who he is?"

Draco looked at his hands, then at Blaise's body as they carted it out of the cavern. He slipped the wrinkled glove on. "I've always known."

Harry gripped his head, knowing which one was coming.

"No. No to all of it. Why would you think I want to hear this? You knew who he was the whole time and you let me run around like an idiot!"

"Potter—"

"No. If you want me to forgive your deceitful, idiotic attempts at 'changing', tell me who the bloody ruler is, now, Malfoy."

"Why are you hiding them?" Hermione coaxed.

"I'm sorry. I can't.

"You won't. Big difference."

He yanked at his hair. Ron and Hermione saw and Ron shook him—literally—out of his trance.

"Harry?"