Because I Deserve It - Drarry

Chapter 27

Draco cursed and fumbled around for his wand, finally tugging it out from the depths of his robes. He cast a Lumos, only for it to spark and fizzle out almost immediately. No wands, then.

Draco was pants at wandless magic, but he could manage a simple Lumos. It was weaker than what he usually achieved with his wand, but it was something. Whatever these dampeners were, they only affected wand magic.

Using the light that shone feebly from his fingertips, Draco saw he was in a bedroom of sorts. It was sparsely decorated - only a bed, wardrobe, and nightstand furnished the room. There was a single window next to the bed, curtains shut. The entire space was only as large as a third of his bedroom in the Manor, but perhaps that was not the best indicator of size.

Rubbing his hip, which he had landed on, Draco walked over to the wardrobe. He flung it open to reveal about two dozen robes. As he rifled through them, he frowned, seeing that they were all his size. The nightstand's drawers were empty, and there was absolutely nothing else of note in the room. Draco knew it was likely a vain hope, but he tried the door, confirming that it was locked.

He shot a halfhearted Alohomora at it, but it didn't budge, as expected.

He tried the window, which opened, but it was hexed to prevent humans from leaving. There was nothing of note outside, only a hill and a couple of trees in sight. At least it was brighter with the weak light of the winter sun. Draco sat on the bed, bored but alert with anticipation. Either his kidnapper did not know he had arrived, which was unlikely considering they would've felt him enter the wards, or they were making him wait. It was a common Slytherin tactic, almost expected, and it was used to drive victims to crippling boredom or even madness so that it was easier to break them.

The Dark Lord had used it with much success.

But Draco could wait. He knew countless ways to entertain himself, a skill that came as a byproduct of attending many a boring party at the behest of his parents. There is an age where everyone deems you too young to be worth speaking with yet too old for the whimsical, amusing conversation of a child. Merlin, but Draco had never been so bored until those parties.

Nearly half an hour had passed when a noise interrupted Draco's mental recitation of old Latin poetry. He stood, all traces of the dead language gone from his mind as he prepared to face his kidnapper.

The door clicked and swung open.

Dear Merlin, Draco was prepared for anyone but this.

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Harry paced in front of the gargoyles that lined the Headmaster's - Headmistress' - office. This was taking far too long. Who knows what was happening to Draco in the meanwhile.

Finally, something arrived and interrupted his furious walking. A silvery tabby cat said simply, "The password is Phoenix," before dissipating into the air in twisting, shining strands. Harry immediately spun around and repeated the word, barely waiting for the gargoyle to move before rushing up to the door and barging in.

McGonagall was sitting behind the desk, two men in Auror robes in front of her. One was a stranger, while the other Harry recognized as Head Auror Robards, who he had worked with briefly over the summer to capture the remaining Death Eaters.

Robards stood and held his hand out, and Harry took it, not wanting to be rude. The other man was introduced as Auror Wilson, and then they launched right into an explanation.

"We think the letter was a modified Portkey," Wilson disclosed. "It was probably set to activate on touch since the sender wouldn't have known exactly what time Draco would open the letter. They wouldn't want their effort to go to waste by having an early or late Portkey." Harry nodded because he had figured most of that out already during his frantic pacing.