Memory Loss (Harry Potter Drarry slash)

41: [Rape 7] What We Fight for

The Death Eaters Apparated him to a parlour in what he assumed to be a pompous mansion, for the furniture and other interior design were clearly expensive. But no mountain of wizarding money or styling savvy could make that place appealing; the atmosphere was cold, drab, and downright menacing. The matte, earthy colours and ancient, stiff portraits did not help in brightening the room's spirits, either.

Daring surveyed his new surroundings with one long, sweeping look, almost immediately spotting the self-proclaimed Dark Lord standing in wait just inside a wide archway, but he paid him no mind. Knowing well the importance of acquainting yourself with your environment and taking note of exits and anything else that might come in handy if things went south, his first priority was to commit everything useful to memory. The Dark Lord could wait.

Before his surveillance was quite finished, Pywercaseley spoke up behind him. "Ah, just on time, as always."

Satisfied that he now knew the layout of the room, Daring turned around to face the Dark leader squarely, not a single trace of trepidation on his features. Chin held high in challenge, he demanded: "Where's James?"

Was that an expression of indignation that temporarily flickered across the Dark Lord's face?

He could not be sure, because when Pywercaseley answered him it was with apparent indifference. "Straight to the point—I can appreciate that in a man."

"Cut the buggery and tell me where my son is," Daring said in a tone that belied that he was getting bored with the man. What was it with Dark wizards and their incessant, infuriating need to talk before they got to the wand waving? Voldemort had been the worst, but this one was sure going out of his way to follow in the former Lord's footsteps ...

Pywercaseley's countenance grew instantly dark, as if someone had just flipped a switch inside his head and it was now lights out. The left corner of his mouth was twitching warningly. "I might have expected such a disgraceful word to come from someone like you," he declared with his nose wrinkled in disgust. But then something seemed to hit him, and a sly, self-satisfied, malicious grin cracked his face in two godawful halves. This new expression made Daring frown, not out of concern but simply because the quick change mystified him.

"You think you have the upper hand because you're 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' and you happened to solve a few puzzles when you were in school," Pywercaseley declared, "but you are a fool. Look around you. There are Death Eaters everywhere and all the exits have been sealed. You are in my domain now."

Daring demonstratively let his gaze sweep over the room once more and scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Not a very homey domain, though, is it?" he remarked before fixing the Dark Lord with his eyes anew. "Honestly, Percy, you should have been able to do so much better; this is just embarrassing."

He had hoped that using the old, hated name he had been given by his parents would make Pywercaseley snap, but unfortunately the madman just started to laugh spitefully. "Oooh, it is going to be such a pleasure to kill you, Harry Potter," he stated, and slowly began to raise the wand he was holding in his right hand.

But before the wand tip was quite pointing at Daring, there was another voice speaking up behind the Lord: Harry's voice. And with a note of fearless challenge that impressed Daring, it proclaimed: "Actually, it's Harry Malfoy."

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After having fled through the enormous mansion with the Death Eaters hot on his trail, James ultimately found himself trapped in a drawing room that he had stupidly run into without taking notice of the fact that there was no other way out of it. There was only the one set of high doors, the windows were firmly bolted shut by powerful, advanced magic—and three towering Death Eaters were effectively cutting off his escape by plugging up the doorway.