Chapter 3
Draco's POV:
Draco woke up, his body aching and his mind reeling. The memories came flooding back in a rush: the war, the chaos, abandoning the Death Eaters and siding with the light, the desperate throw of his wand to Harriet, leaving himself defenceless. The duel flashed vividly in his mind, his resolve to sacrifice everything to end Voldemort once and for all. He remembered helping Harriet, their final stand, and the overwhelming terror of dying together. Then, there was Death. The absolute terror he felt in Death’s presence, the deity's cold, unyielding gaze. He had been so close to oblivion, only to have Harriet fight fiercely for his life, pulling him back from the brink.
How did we make it out? Draco wondered.
His heart pounding as he processed the miracle of his survival.
Suddenly, the urgency of their situation hit him.
Harriet
He bolted upright, wincing at the pain that shot through his limbs.
Harriet! His mind screamed her name as he scanned his surroundings frantically.
Where’s Harriet?!
The battlefield where they had fallen was nowhere in sight. Instead, he found himself in a desolate, eerily quiet place, devoid of any signs of life. His heart raced as he realised the gravity of their predicament. They had escaped death, but they were vulnerable, defenceless, and completely lost.
Where are we?
Draco’s thoughts spiralled, panic tightening his chest.
We could be attacked at any moment,
And we have no way to defend ourselves.
His eyes darted around the unfamiliar terrain, searching for any clue, any sign of Harriet. The silence was deafening, amplifying his fear. The absence of life was more terrifying than any battlefield, more suffocating than the presence of Death itself.
We have to get out of here, Draco thought,
His mind racing.
But where do we go?
"Harriet!" he called out, his voice echoing in the emptiness. There was no response, only the hollow sound of his own desperation. He forced himself to stay calm, to focus. Harriet had saved him once; he owed it to her to stay strong and find her.
I can’t lose her now…
Not after everything we’ve been through…
Not with what I owed her for facing Death head on for me he resolved.
Pushing down the rising tide of fear, he took a deep breath, steeling himself. Whatever this place was, he would find a way out. He had to—for both their sakes.
Draco forced himself to his feet despite the aching protests of his limbs, ignoring the terrifying fact that he had no idea where he was. The ancient, derelict ruins surrounding him loomed ominously, their shadows twisted by the feel of dark, heavy magic in the atmosphere.
His mind quickly acknowledged the sinister nature of the magic—it tasted wild and reeked of tainted, sacrificial blood magic gone wrong.
Focus, Draco. Harriet needs you.
He began searching frantically for her, his eyes scanning the area until he caught sight of her small, fragile body lying not far from him, partially hidden by the ruins. Heart pounding, he got up too quickly, and black spots danced in his vision. Ignoring them, he rushed forward, shouting her name.
"Potter!"
Relief surged through him as he saw her chest rise and fall—she was breathing. Alive.
"Potter!" he called again, his voice cracking with emotion.
She groaned in pain, her hands rubbing at her eyes as she began to sit up. Her eyes opened, widened in shock, then rolled back as she passed out again.
"No, no, no," Draco muttered, alarm spiking through him.
He lunged forward, catching her head before it hit the ground, and gently laid her back on the earth.
Her breathing was steady, but her body was hot to the touch—sweaty, dirty, and feverish. The wounds from the battle were still fresh, angry and bleeding.
“Potter, you need to wake up! Potter! It isn’t safe here, wake up Pot-Harriet, Harriet, please!”
She remains completely unresponsive. He looks at her in see's her arm looks like it could be dislocated from her shoulder, and that its bleeding, thought from what he could see its quite deep but thankfully not a result of a curse but something natural, so for a wixen, would be nothing serious or life threatening as there magical cores would protect them from any potential infection and from most of the blood loss, though covering the wound would at least alleviate the strain on Harriets core.
But Harriet didn't just get what's effectively a bump on her arm, she's just survived another killing curse, fought death, clawed back to life, and her body and core has completely emptied out and dangerously been refilled so quickly that she's passed out from the exhaustion.
She needs help, and fast.
Draco instinctively reached for his wand holster to cast a quick burst of cleaning, cleansing, and diagnostic spells on her.
But a sharp spike of fear hit him when he realised his wand was missing.
Morgana's Sagging Tits!
With a gasp, he quickly scanned his surroundings, but there was no sign of it. Panic rising, he frantically searched Harriet's body, hoping to find her wand instead.
But there was none.
Merlin! We’re wandless!
Draco's mind raced. He had no wand, no clear idea of where they were, and no clear idea of reaching civilisation, with a sick witch depending on him.
Draco looked around one last time and was sure he there was nothing of there's that they've left behind, and can see that there isn't a single person or living thing in sight at this odd ruin that they've found themselves at. But he couldn't be sure that this will remain the same in a few moments later.
We're much too exposed where we are
We'll need to move somewhere more sheltered, to hide from any potential enemies that my come
But also open enough to be able to escape if needed
He looked down at Harriet, and without a second thought carried her with him over towards a nearby a group of large boulder to hide behind. His rough hurried actions meant he couldn't be gentle with Harriets injured arm, but Harriet is so heavily drained and passed out that she doesn't react to the jostling. Moreover, jostling at Harriets injured arm isn't something Draco feels to worried about when their vary lives could be in danger at this moment, and he has no time or ability to be gentle with moving her dead weight when his body is screaming at him in agony from pain and exhaustion.
Now hidden behind the group of boulders, he can sense dark blood magics and rituals surrounding the land. The oppressive magic in the air made it hard to think, and his mind felt addled by the intoxicating feel of the magic, but he couldn't afford to panic.
Come on, think.
Think!
There has to be something I can do.
He tore a strip from his already tattered robe, to dab the sweat from Harriet's forehead and clean some of the dirt from her wounds, and another strip using it tie around Harriets bleeding arms to stop the bleeding and help her core somewhat with healing her. It was a small, almost futile gesture, but it was all he had.
Hang on, Harriet.
Just hang on.
The harsh reality of their circumstance seemed to close in around them, but Draco refused to give in to despair.
Harriet had saved him from death itself; now it was his turn to save her.
I'll find a way out of here.
I have to.
For us.
Draco's stomach rumbled, reminding him of how hungry and, more importantly, how thirsty he was. He reached into his satchel, his arm moving through the deep extension charm until he found the bottle of water. He quickly sipped a bit for himself, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.
Gently sitting Harriet up, he prepared to pour some water into her mouth. Only then did he freeze, staring at the bottle in front of him in shocked awe.
I have my satchel.
Everything I've stored in it is still here.
We might survive this yet!
Hope surged through him. He had supplies, resources—everything he'd meticulously packed for the war. Setting the water bottle aside momentarily, he rummaged through the satchel, pulling out a small stash of medicinal potions, in search of some vials that could help them both.
He’s conscious of his limited resources, and the
"Hold on, Harriet," he murmured, his voice filled with newfound determination.
"We'll get through this."
He carefully treated Harriet's wounds, cleaning and bandaging them with vials of supplies from his stash.
The essence of dittany fixed up much of the major external wounds, and from what he’s seen, there doesn’t look to be any internal bleeding.
He dosed her with a light amount of Wiggenweld Potion, to wake Harriet from her unconscious state temporarily. Then, he tipped the bottle to her lips, letting a few drops of water trickle into her mouth.
She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering.
She’s conscious again, but clearly delirious and not present. But that was good enough for Draco.
"Come on, Harriet. You need to drink."
Draco massages her throat to help her swallow it down, her throat moves as she swallows, and Draco feels a wave of relief.
After some water, he poured a nutrition potion and a blood replenishing potion down her throat, before pouring more water.
Not long after, she passed out once again. This time, Draco let her be, understanding she needed all the rest she could get. The few vials of potions he managed to administer would handle the worst of her body's ailments, but they wouldn't miraculously heal her. She was still feverish, exhausted, malnourished, and clearly magically wiped out. She’ll need time to recover.
He took another sip of water for himself. Fortunately, Draco wasn’t as injured, exhausted, or malnourished as Harriet. He hadn't been on the run without access to basic comforts or in the thick of the battle. This allowed him to focus on tending to her while strategically planning their next steps. As he continued to care for her, his mind raced with plans and possibilities.
With Harriet stabilized for the moment, Draco took a deep breath and looked around, assessing their surroundings with renewed focus. The ancient ruins were unfamiliar, and the air was thick with wild dark magic. The lack of any living beings around them brought hauntingly mixed news—it meant they were safe from immediate danger and far from the battle at Hogwarts, but also that they were in a desolate, destroyed place, far from home.
At least the duel’s backlash didn’t kill everyone around us, he thought, taking some comfort in that fact.
The sweltering heat and eerie stillness suggested they were in a remote area, and it would be difficult to find help anytime soon.
But if there are ruins, there must have been civilization nearby once.
We just need to find it.
Then we can go home.
Determined, Draco turned his attention back to Harriet, knowing their survival depended on his ability to navigate this strange, foreboding place.
He looked up to see that the haunting orange-red hue of his surroundings was due to the nearly setting sun. The awful humid heat and the derelict wasteland created an image straight out of what he imagined Hell might look like. With the sun sinking so low, it was clear that darkness would soon fall. And with no idea where they were, they couldn’t afford to assume they were safe.
Who knew what manner of beasts the night might bring
First things first, he thought, organising his priorities.
Find shelter, gather resources, and figure out where we are.
He glanced at Harriet, her breathing steady but shallow. Determination burned in his chest. He wouldn't let her down. Not now, not after everything they had been through.
We will survive this. Together.
Draco rummaged through his satchel and summoned his school trunk. While not as magnificent and luxurious as the family tent he had during the international Quidditch match, it still boasted a decent extension charm. It contained everything a pureblood heir might need for comfort at school, along with essential personal spaces like a study, potions lab, equipped bathroom, and a few other necessities. It was certainly enough to survive the desolate wasteland they found themselves in.
With renewed determination, Draco gently lifted Harriet, cradling her against him. Despite every muscle protesting, he stood and carefully carried her into the trunk. Inside, he placed her on the small cot in his study and quickly wrote a note explaining their situation, which he left beside her.
Venturing back outside, Draco places the trunk with Harriet inside it back into his Satchel, before seeking a secure location to set up the trunk as their homebase, ensuring it was hidden from potential threats.
Scanning the ruins for any sign of safety and shelter, Draco spotted a partially intact palace that stood on higher ground, offering a vantage point over their surroundings. Determined to survive and protect himself and the person who had fought so fiercely for him, he pushed forward towards the palace.
We'll get through this. Together.
With each step, Draco felt the weight of responsibility and the urgency of their situation. He couldn't afford to hesitate or falter.