Prisoner 63

Sanctuary

The halls were silent - completely deserted. The polar opposite of how Draco remembered them, usually full of students, milling about, talking, carrying books, huffing and puffing as they ran to classes they were late to. It was almost eerie in the wavering candlelight, the only thing that lit the dark marble castle.

The corridors of Hogwarts were all too familiar to the young Malfoy, but Harry, with his curious nature, wanted to stop every five seconds to ogle at a painting who waved at him, or follow a ghost down a random corridor, and squeaking in fear when a staircase moved. He was worse than one of the first years, worse than a mudblood even. Draco always thought it was hilarious to watch them stumble about the castle with no wits about them whatsoever. They were like that in general, mudbloods.

Draco kept a firm grip on his hand and hauled him up the stairs at a quick walk, knowing that they wouldn't be safe until they reached Dumbledore. Dumbledore was the only wizard he feared, the one solace, the only place that was truly safe was by that man's side. He was trembling for some reason, anticipation, expectation... he didn't know. His mind was in a whirlwind, overwhelmed by the fact that they were almost there. Almost safe.

"Draco," Harry whined, and the blond turned to see him gasping for breath, exhausted from climbing flight after flight of stairs. His face was red and his shoulders heaved. Despite how far he'd come, he still wasn't capable of everything, and Draco forgot that sometimes.

"I'm sorry," Draco said, moving to stand on the same step as Harry, letting the shorter boy lean on him, inwardly scolding himself for pushing Harry too far. "We'll be there soon, okay?" Draco ruffled his hair and moved to hold Harry's face in his hands. Merlin's beard, he looked adorable with his face so red. Draco leaned in to kiss his forehead, which made Harry smile, as it always did. "Come on, then. We can rest after we've seen Dumbledore."

Harry nodded, letting Draco take his hand again, leading him up the stairs at a slower pace. They reached the top floor before too long, making their was around the winding corridors to where the headmaster's office was. Draco groaned, realising with dismay that he didn't know the password to Dumbledore's office. The golden gargoyle stood still, refusing to acknowledge their plight, showing no signs of moving anytime soon. Draco smacked his fist against the gargoyle's chest, a delusional part of his exhausted mind thinking it might make some sort of difference, but nothing happened.

Holding his hand to his chest which was throbbing with pain, he turned to Harry, who was looking curiously between Draco and the statue, waiting for Draco to tell him what was going on.

"We need this statue to move, there's a passage behind it," Draco muttered. "It should open with a password, but I don't know it."

Harry looked back towards the statue, and moved towards it, placing his hand on the golden monument. Draco watched as the statue began to glow, Harry's eyes shut tightly. The sound of metal scraping across the stone floor filled the air, the statue finally stopping moving when a small space was made, just enough for them to squeeze past. Harry opened his eyes, panting with effort, hands shaking as he wiped his bleeding nose on his already bloodied sleeves. He looked exhausted, his pale and bloodstained face was twisted into a grimace, only making the numerous scars on his face stand out even more.

"Come here," Draco said softly, pulling Harry into his arms and lifting him up, carrying him. "You aren't taking another step today. I promise we can go to sleep soon."

Sleep. What a wonderful thought. Draco was so tired, fuelled only by the desperate remnants of Adrenalin lingering in his bloodstream. It has been the most exhausting week of his life so far, on the run like a fugitive, with no regular meals or bathing. His hair was thick with grease and dirt, and his clothes were still stained with blood from the danger they'd met on the way. He could hear his own footsteps dragging as he carried Harry up the spiralling staircase, sighing in relief at the wooden door ahead. He pushed it open, and stepped inside.