The Cell

Chapter 11: Explanations

I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.

- Helen Keller

After having done all he knew how for Hermione, Draco was reluctant to leave her side. He was concerned that she hadn't yet regained consciousness, but her pulse was stronger and, considering her organs had quite literally been shutting down, he assumed it was probably normal. If any of this could be called normal.

Theo, after binding the house elf they had encountered earlier and dosing him with a sleeping draught, disappeared toward the kitchen in search of food while Blaise and Draco settled into two wingback chairs on either side of the fireplace. The still silenced portrait merely scowled at them.

"Seriously mate," Blaise began, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, "the last time I saw you, you wouldn't have spit on Hermione Granger if she were on fire, now you're running around like a lunatic trying to save her life."

Draco understood how it must have looked, but he was too exhausted to care what they might think of him.

"I don't really want to talk about it," he said tiredly, wiping his hand across his face as he leaned back into the soft cushions of the chair. He realized with a start how nice it was to sit on something other than the ground. "What about you? Have you been in Italy this whole time?"

Blaise hadn't returned to Hogwarts after the winter holiday and Draco hadn't heard from him prior to his own internment.

"Yeah," he said, "you know my family doesn't like to get involved in anything that could mean risking their own necks. When things started getting really bad, my mum packed up and moved us to the villa outside Milan."

Draco had visited the place with Blaise several summers ago. It was much smaller than their estate in the UK, but equally lavish. Blaise's mother had something of a habit of marrying wealthy men shortly before their tragic deaths.

"You couldn't write, you git?"

"To the house where the Dark Lord was holed up? Or to the school that his henchmen are running?"

"Fair enough," he conceded after a pause, inclining his head. "How did Theo end up with you?"

Just then the man in question drifted back into the room, levitating a tray of tea and sandwiches in front of him.

"I hate this fucking house," he said bitterly, placing the tray on the low coffee table before settling on the ground in front of it. "You know there's a severed finger in my ice chest right now? No explanation, no sign of the bloke who lost it, just a severed finger. Who does that?"

Blaise put down the sandwich he had picked up without taking a bite. Draco, desperate for something that wasn't dry bread and didn't need to be eaten with a spoon, dug in with gusto, suppressing a groan of pleasure as he chewed.

"I was just filling Drake in on our torrid love affair in Italy," Blaise said with a cheeky smirk and a wink. He stirred a cup of tea, having apparently decided that was safer than the sandwiches. Theo snorted.

"If that's what you consider a love affair, I feel bad for the women you bed. Well... worse for them than I already did."

"Anyway," Blaise said pointedly, "I've been in Italy since Christmas. This one stuck it out until the spring holiday."

Theo swallowed his bite of sandwich and took a draught of tea before turning to Draco.

"My dad tried to have me marked when I got home," he explained, trying not to let his eyes linger on his friend's forearm. "He kept talking about it like it was the best thing that could have possibly happened to me, said as soon as the Dark Lord returned to the country there would be some sort of initiation. I packed a bag and split the minute he turned his back, apparated up the coast to Dover and then took a broom across the Channel. Once I was there I owled Blaise and he came and got me from Calais with a portkey."