Ride or Die

From High Places

a/n: hello children time for death

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Chapter 19: From High Places

Draco watched her go and felt her absence like a bereavement, like a blow to his chest, the vacancy of where she'd been in the room swelling with an aura of warning; of a retreat he feared was more than temporary, the result of things he knew could never be unseen.

Though he had other things to worry about at the moment.

Once Hermione had gone, the bar had fallen deathly quiet; literally deathly quiet, Draco thought with a pang, as the sound of breathing itself now seemed to be in short supply. Draco took stock of the remaining occupants and found himself at a loss, numbly counting bodies where he stood to glance briefly from Scabior at the pool table to Smith and Theo on the floor, and then to where Tom and Slughorn hovered near the door before registering Potter's movement behind him, supporting his slowly collapsing weight.

For a moment, Draco was relieved at the pressure against his back, finding an unexpected solace in it; in the next, however, he suffered a jolt of punishing certainty - of knowing better, and seeing what came next. Whatever Tom had planned, he wouldn't want witnesses, and Draco realized with a plummeting sense of loss precisely who would be the next to leave.

"Officer Potter," Tom ventured slowly, his gaze shifting to him over Draco's shoulder, "I understand my Death Eaters and I owe you quite a debt." He paused, regarding him from where he still held the gun level with Theo's temple. "You've been more than helpful over recent weeks, haven't you?"

Draco felt Potter tentatively clear his throat. "Just doing my job, sir."

Part of Draco wanted to roll his eyes at Potter's limitless vault of earnestness.

"Mm, yes," Tom agreed, a slightly mocking smile pulling at his lips. "I must say, I'm very grateful you thought to call Horace when you did," he continued slowly, "as otherwise, I'm afraid we might have been too late." Tom glanced down at Theo, pursing his lips. "If only the people under my purview were quite as reliable with communication as you are, Officer," he added to Potter, and Draco fought a creeping sense of dread that lodged itself in the contours of his spine, manifesting in a shudder.

Theo, however, did not look up, and Tom turned his head slightly, shifting his attention to Slughorn. "Horace," he said neutrally. "Would you mind checking on Mr Smith, please?"

Slughorn hastily waddled forward but paused, hesitating as he looked at Theo.

"Ah, Theodore," Tom murmured. "I presume you can be trusted not to continue with your ill-advised assault?" Theo nodded numbly, and Tom abruptly lowered his gun. "Move, then," Tom instructed briskly, and Theo hastily clambered to his feet, swaying slightly. Draco pulled out of Potter's reach to take Theo's arm, forcing him upright.

"I've got you," he said under his breath, and Theo nodded vacantly, his eyes still on Smith.

Slughorn knelt slowly, pressing two fingers to Smith's pulse. "Alive," he said, looking relieved. "Shallow, but it's there."

Tom forced an icy smile, curiously ambivalent. "Well, then, Officer Potter," he said, turning back to Harry. "I think we can take it from here. If you would, please," he proposed, gesturing to Draco. "I believe that's Mr Malfoy's gun you're holding, is it not?"

Draco turned his head to watch Potter's brow furrow. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I only imagine Draco would appreciate its recovery. Besides, I highly doubt Smith will be pressing charges," Tom deduced briskly, glancing at Scabior. "Will he?"