Chapter 42 Draco
Chapter 42 Draco
He must be dead. The dementors had feasted on him mercilessly, surely no one could survive that? So why was he still in pain? Death couldn’t hurt this much. But he didn’t feel alive either.
Where was Dudley? He needed Dudley.
Draco tried to move, to see if he still had a body, he shifted his right hand, it moved. Suddenly Draco was aware of the hard surface he was on. He tried to open his eyes but they were unbearably heavy, after several failed attempts he was able to squint, through his fuzzy vision he could just about make out a dusty arched ceiling. His head was pounding like a drum and his thoughts were mangled but he knew where he was.
Draco came around slowly, eyes adjusting first. He needed to get up and find Dudley, if Dudley was dead he wouldn’t hang around, he would follow Dudley into death happily. He needed to know if Dudley was dead, Draco tried to sit up, but he was shocked by the ache he felt in his chest, it was like he’d been winded but ten times worse, like he’d been rugby tackled by a bus, it made it very hard to breathe. Eventually he managed to get his good hand behind his back to help force himself into a sitting position.
He was still for a moment adjusting to the new position. Draco then vomited on himself, covering his trousers and shoes in a thick black liquid. It was gloopy and shiny like hot tar and it smelled like decay. It was sinking through the fabric and soaking into his skin.
He tried to ignore it, he needed to find Dudley. He forced his body to turn around… and there he was.
Nothing could have prepared Draco for what he saw. Dudley was laid on his stomach. He wasn’t moving. His arm outstretched in front of him in the direction Draco had fallen. Dudley’s clothes had almost been torn from his body. Every inch of him was covered in deep red gashes, like someone had tried to rip him apart.
No. Please no.
Draco crawled over to him, somehow his own pain didn’t matter anymore, tears were falling unbidden from his eyes. Draco tried to flip Dudley onto his back. He needed to know if he was still alive, he didn’t want to spend a single moment on this earth if Dudley wasn’t here.
Draco managed to turn Dudley’s large body, his front was covered in even more slashes. One in particular was terribly deep and long, it oozed at the edges, leaking a yellow liquid.
‘Ughhhhh’
Dudley moaned as he was turned onto his back.
‘Dudley!’ Draco was filled with fresh urgency.
‘Dudley? Dudley? Stay with me!’
Draco was dumbfounded, his head still swimming he could barely comprehend what was happening.
‘Dra..’ Dudley tried to speak but his voice devolved into a wheezing cough.
‘Vulnera Sanentur’ Draco cast the spell hurriedly over Dudley’s body but the wounds weren’t knitting back together. They remained stubbornly open, red and angry, the blood was congealing but they were still losing fresh blood in places. Why wasn’t it working?
‘No. no. no. no’ Draco repeated like a petulant child. He needed to get Dudley out of here, he wouldn’t last much longer. They would have to travel back to the cabin by floo. The fireplace was downstairs, Draco was sure it would still be connected to the floo network, Voldemort would want easy access to his horcrux.
Draco levitated Dudley, who groaned in pain as his body moved.
‘Horc…rux’ Dudley spluttered from his elevated position.
Draco had forgotten about the horcrux, at the moment he didn’t really care, he was more worried about getting Dudley to safety. There was supplies at the cabin, he needed essence of dittany.
‘It’s okay, don’t worry about it, we need to get you out of here first.’
‘N-no’ Dudley took a wobbly breath in, wincing as he attempted and failed to shake his head.
‘Dudley. There’s no time.’ Draco pleaded.
‘Get…’ Dudley took another painful breath ‘…it.’ he finished his sentence, solid determination in his face.
Draco looked at Dudley and then back to the bedroom, he knew the horcrux was hidden in there. Frustrated he let out a growl of anger and made his way to the bedroom. He wanted to move quickly, he just couldn’t. When he moved too fast his vision went spotty, white dots appearing at the edges. He felt his way along the corridor and into the room.
He was assaulted by a loud buzzing, he couldn’t figure out if it was his injuries or the proximity of the horcrux but it felt like it filled his head to capacity. His brain was a balloon slowly being blown up, getting bigger and bigger the closer he got to the horcrux, threatening to burst. Draco knew exactly where it was, he didn’t know how he knew, if it was that strange Instinct again or the waves of dark magic radiating from it. The room had once been grand, like the rest of the manor the furniture was mostly covered in white dust sheets. A towering four poster bed was on the left hand side, rotting mattress still in place, moth eaten curtains hanging sadly around the edge. Draco reached his hand under the bed and grabbed a small box that lay there, he didn’t look at it, didn’t even open it. He knew it was the horcrux, he had never been surer of anything. The buzzing in his head stopped as he touched the box. Draco pocketed the it and retreated back through to the hallway to Dudley who was still hovering in midair.
‘Got it.’ He said.
Dudley gave a minuscule movement of his chin in acknowledgement.
Draco levitated Dudley down the stairs, across the reception hall and into the fireplace, he gently deposited Dudley’s mutilated form in the empty grate.
‘Can you speak?’ Draco asked. If Dudley couldn’t get himself to the cabin he had no idea what they were going to do.
‘Yes.’ Dudley said, his voice was weak but hopefully it would be enough. It had to be enough.
He offered Dudley the floo powder, Dudley took a small handful, it seemed to require all his energy and an enormous amount of concentration.
‘C-codwig’ he took a shallow breath ‘ca…bin, Mud-dleford’ Dudley relaxed his hand and the powder fell out of it and into the grate, he was swallowed by bright green flames and he was gone. Draco followed him.
Draco reappeared in the fireplace in the cabin. Dudley was still in the grate, clearly unable to get himself out. Heart beating out of his chest Draco levitated him into the bedroom. It was Draco’s childhood bedroom, it had remained untouched since the last time he had visited with his nanny, probably ten summers ago. Sandy his nanny had allowed him to decorate it, as a result there was a blue and gold Puddlemere United duvet cover on the bed and his shelves were filled with books and chocolate frog cards. It seemed to still smell like Sandy in there, though Draco was fairly sure he was imagining it.
Draco laid Dudley down, he was unconscious but he still had a pulse, the stress of travelling by floo must have been too much. Dudley’s head lolled to the side, his mouth open.
If he died Draco would never forgive himself.
He hobbled to the bathroom and took the essence of dittany from the cabinet, it was in a small silver vial stoppered with cork, sandy had always kept a stash, Draco silently thanked her.
He returned to Dudley, carefully he peeled the remnants of Dudley’s clothing away. They were torn beyond recognition anyway. He slowly pulled the blood soaked fabric from his skin, it was crusted and glued to his skin in some places.
Draco realised he was crying. Get a grip he told himself, he wiped his tears away and shook his head. He pulled Dudley’s trousers down and removed his socks and underwear. Looking down on him was a physical pain.
He looked so broken, he had been torn up and spat out, like he was nothing. Almost every inch of him was bleeding. Some cuts were small, others were eyewateringly deep, imagining the pain he must have felt as those wounds were inflicted was too much for Draco. He hadn’t been there to stop it. Again, he had failed Dudley again.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Draco cupped his unconscious cheek.
The largest wound was a deep gash across Dudley’s stomach, it gaped open. Draco took the dittanny and carefully dropped several drops along the edges of the wound. The yellow liquid that had been oozing out disappeared. The wound wouldn’t close though, the top and bottom of the slice attempted to pull together but it must have been too deep even for dittany.
He would have to resort to muggle methods and sew it together. Draco left the dittany on his bedside table and ran back to the bathroom. Sandy was good but she hadn’t stockpiled sutures in her first aid kit. If only he was a better wizard, there were definitely healing spells that would be better, Draco just didn’t know them. Why? Why had he not done some research before they left on this fools errand?
Instead Draco took the dental floss from the bathroom cupboard, he made his way to the lounge where he grabbed a needle from the sewing kit. He then stumbled into the kitchen and opened the drinks cupboard, thank god! There was some alcohol in there, he grabbed a bottle of vodka and returned to Dudley. Draco quickly felt for his pulse again, still there but getting weaker.
Draco took a length of floss, and the needle, he covered them both in vodka, soaking the carpet in the process.
Draco tried to thread the needle but his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t see properly through his tears. Dudley was dying in-front of him and he couldn’t even thread a needle!
The frustration was to much to bear, the more he tried the wobblier his fingers became, he dropped the needle twice and had to drench it in alcohol again. Eventually he managed to get the thread through the eye of the needle. He hunched over Dudley’s torso. The dittany had definitely helped, it wasn’t bleeding anymore and Draco could see what he was doing. He took a breath and then pierced Dudley’s skin, carefully pulling the edges of the wound together. Draco placed each stitch with care, his work was neat and tidy. Dudley didn’t stir once as Draco stabbed him repeatedly with the needle. When he was finished he took the dittany and dabbed it over every single wound, the smaller ones healed almost instantly, disappearing into pink scars. When he was finished each of Dudley’s slashes was at least closed and he was no longer bleeding.
To finish Dudley took the last few drops of dittany and dropped them on the large wound. Draco took Dudley’s pulse again, still alive, for now.
He found Dudley some underwear and loosely covered Dudley with a duvet from one of the spare bedrooms. He was close to passing out himself now, the exhaustion pulling him down to the ground. Draco slumped to the floor next to Dudley, his back resting on the bed frame. He took Dudley’s hand and held it loosely with his fingers on Dudley’s pulse. It was slow but steady. Draco fell asleep like that. Praying Dudley wouldn’t die.
***
Draco woke with a shudder, he had no idea how long he had been asleep for but his back and neck were stiff. It took a moment for the memories of the previous twenty four hours to come back to him. He grabbed Dudley’s hand, it was resting close, still laying where he had let go of it as he slept. Dudley still had a pulse, Draco relaxed, a tension he hadn’t realised he’d been holding dissipated.
He stood on unsteady legs and inspected Dudley’s largest wound, the dittany had continued working as Draco slept, it was still a huge gash across his middle but it no longer looked fatal. The rest of Dudley’s wounds were almost gone, fading into scars already.
‘Dudley?’ Draco whispered gently wobbling his body. Dudley didn’t stir as he lolled from side to side. He’s still alive Draco told himself. He took small comfort in the knowledge no one was here to stop him from taking his life, if Dudley did die, he would be able to join him without a fight.
Draco went to the bathroom, he stood in-front of the sink, exhausted he leant on the porcelain. He stared at his own reflection in the mirror. He was pale and his face was drawn. He was covered in grime from the floor of Riddle Manor and coated in an alarming amount of Dudley’s blood, he was also daubed in the thick black vomit he had thrown up, it had dried hard making his clothing stiff. How much blood had Dudley lost? He’d filled the bowl and then he’d bled out on the floor for a good while before Draco had woken up.
Bodies could replenish blood, Draco knew that. He hoped that given time Dudley would come around again as his body replaced what it had lost. He had to be okay, he had to be.
As Draco took his robes off, he felt the weight of the box in his pocket. The horcrux.
It seemed to come alive again when it felt Draco looking at it. The buzzing returned, the horcrux was excited. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled it out. It was a ring box, made of a dark wood, mahogany or walnut. It was engraved with the dark mark and finished with a glossy varnish. Draco turned it over in his hands, without consciously deciding to he found that he was opening it. There it was, his own signet ring, it had sat on his finger for years, now it laid on a green velvet cushion. The ring was silver, depicted a snake winding its way around a capital ‘M’ with an emerald for the snake’s eye. It was so familiar, but it wasn’t his anymore, it was tainted with dark magic. Still, something in him couldn’t help but touch it, as his finger brushed the cool metal the floor he was standing on gave way, he sank into the floor into a cloud of grey smoke. He grabbed at the floor, clawing hopelessly trying to stop himself from being dragged into the darkness. It was fruitless, he was pulled under into the smoke, it filled his lungs, it didn’t smell of smoke it was like air but thicker, it slowed his breathing. Panic rose in his chest, what was happening? He couldn’t leave, what if Dudley woke up?
The smoke cleared and Draco was able to see clearly again, he was in a damp cell. The walls dripped with brown water and a rat scurried past behind him, claws scraping on the uneven stone. The air was icy, it bit at Dracos skin like hundreds of tiny knives.
‘Draco…’ a hushed voice whispered from nowhere. It was low and rumbling, it sounded like whispered thunder, loud and quiet at the same time.
‘What?’ Draco turned around looking for the source. There was no one.
‘Who are you? Where am I? Take me back now!’ He demanded.
‘Guess…’ the voice taunted drawing out the ‘s’ like a hiss.
Draco considered his surroundings, taking it in. The wind howled outside, Draco walked tentatively to a barred window. The North Sea was crashing and swirling beneath him in an angry grey whirl. The wind sweeping the waves up into a furious torrent of water that hurled itself at the sides of the building, spraying the stone structure with salty spray.
‘Azkaban…’ he was inside Azkaban. Was the ring a portkey? No. Draco knew what portkey travel felt like. This wasn’t real, it was the only explanation, this was happening inside his head. It had to be some kind of vision.
‘You’re not real, this isn’t real.’ He said to no one.
‘I might not be real, but this is.’
‘What does that mean?’ Draco asked
‘This is the future.’
‘No it’s not.’
‘I may be many things Draco, but a liar is not one of them. What you see here is the future that will take place if you destroy me.’
Draco was unsure, time travel and prophecy were complex magical pursuits that Draco couldn’t even begin to comprehend, but they did exist. The department of mysteries was filled with prophecies. Could it be true?
Before Draco could contemplate anything further there was the sound of chains clanking and someone was whimpering in the corridor. Not someone. Dudley. Draco knew that voice anywhere. He would know that voice even if he forgot everything else he ever knew.
Dudley turned the corner, he was grey, the look in his eyes was pure fear. He was twitchy and walked with jerky steps.
He had heavy metal shackles on both wrists and both feet. His feet were bare and bloody. Draco winced at how cold the stone must have been underneath them. He was wearing an Azkaban uniform. Grey and white stripes covered in dirt. He was pulled along by another large shackle that was fitted tightly around his neck, like a dog on a lead. A grotty looking man with very few teeth roughly pulled him round the corner. The guard was flanked by two dementors.
‘Please, you can’t leave me here! Please please! Don’t leave me here!’ Dudley continued to beg as the man thrust him into the cell. Draco tried to move towards him but found that he could no longer move.
‘No Draco. Just watch.’
It was worse than the dementors kiss watching Dudley scramble along the floor to huddle in a corner. He drew his knees up to his chest and started to gently cry.
‘Please Draco. Please Draco. Please Draco.’ Dudley was muttering the words under his breath as he rocked backwards and forwards. The sight would have brought Draco to his knees if he had been able to move.
‘Stop it.’ He begged the disembodied voice.
‘Only you can stop it Draco. This is Dudley’s future if you destroy me.’
Draco closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer.
When he opened them again Azkaban was gone and he was back in the bathroom of the cabin.
Draco clutched at the sink trying to stay upright, he took several steadying breaths before leaning down to snap the box shut, he hurriedly threw it in the bathroom cabinet and slammed the door shut. Draco had planned to shower but he couldn’t be in the same room as the horcrux. He needed to see Dudley, to check he was still alive in the next room and not huddled in a corner of Azkaban. The vision had felt so real. Draco tried to tell himself it wasn’t real but deep down he knew it was, just like he had known where to find the horcrux. He knew it was true as much as he knew that grass was green. If he destroyed the horcrux then Dudley would end up in Azkaban.