Portae Mortis
For the first time, Draco was on the verge of investigating something which was not based on a muggle legend... but a magical one.
It was not linked with death, necessarily, but the premise was certainly interesting. Draco had just spent a few days searching for the 'rainbow serpent' of Australia—a mythical creature that also had nothing to do with death, but which was allegedly responsible for the water of life in Australia's desert planes. Draco decided to go looking for it anyway, mostly because he found the idea of a technicolor snake that made it rain funny, and, well, he mused, maybe Harry would, too.
The twat could even talk to it, if such a colorful serpent existed.
But it didn't, and so Draco decided to spend some leisure time in the Victoria region of Southern Australia. The weather was lovely, the sun was warm and welcoming, and he had been fortunate enough to happen upon a wizarding pub, for once.
It was amazing, really, just how much people—magical, muggle, whichever—were willing to say when enough gold was shoved in front of their faces... and bartenders, Draco came to learn, were some of the most knowledgeable people in the world.
He supposed it made sense. Who better to hear and collect juicy gossip and information than those who essentially worked as cheap therapists for drunks when business was slow? Inebriated individuals spilled secrets like leaky faucets, and the bartenders of the world collected their words right along with their money.
But this last gentleman was a wizard, not a muggle, and so it was a much more straightforward bribery which occurred in The Golden Chalice of Melbourne, Australia.
Draco had asked, somewhat vaguely, if there were any notably dark, suspicious locations that he should know about, hinting heavily that he may work for the Department of Mysteries in Britain and that it may be impossible for him to explain in detail due to magical contracts, restraints, and obligations, but that his cooperation would be so (underhandedly, monetarily) appreciated.
The information he'd gleaned was simply too intriguing not to look into.
There was an island not far off the coast which was rumored to be cursed. The Magical Commonwealth of Australia had attempted to do many things to it—vanish it, barricade it, make it unplottable—but no enchantments worked within the vicinity. There was very little which the wizarding public knew about it other than one, terrifying thing:
Magic didn't work there.
Magic. Didn't. Work. There.
"Bollocks," Draco had said, when the young bartender told him so in a hushed voice.
"It doesn't! I heard directly from a man who works for the Magical Commonwealth, sir. It's cursed. There's an anti-muggle ward around the area and it's illegal for witches and wizards to go there—not that anyone would, mind you. Not being able to use magic! And not just your wand or what have you, neither. Nothing magical works at all. Not brooms, not anything. Who would want to go?"
He'd paused, one eyebrow raised when Draco's eyes gleamed inquisitively. "...Do you want to go?"
"Maybe I do," Draco had responded coolly. "Can you tell me about where it is?"
It took a few more galleons for him to suddenly remember where he thought it just might be. Draco scribbled the information down hurriedly, feeling altogether too excited to go to a location where his wand would be useless.
"But if you can't take a broom or apparate there, how does one get to it...?" he'd murmured, realizing only then how massively inconvenient this was.
He hadn't expected to get an answer to that, but he did. "Take a boat," the bartender had said, shrugging.
...And so Draco was looking into that.
He was flipping through a muggle magazine about these boats, and it was ridiculous, these enormous things which muggles had invented to take them places! Draco didn't know a damn thing about boats, but he was pretty sure that he would need a crew of effing muggles to help him run one, and he wasn't about to do that.
Then he flipped to a section which had something much more his style and size. A crew of muggles, no... but maybe just one.
"Hey there. Girl."
The muggle girl in question looked up at Draco with narrowed eyes, probably because he had just called her girl, and he supposed that might have been rude.
He'd been watching her for a while. She was young, possibly a few years older than himself, with curly brown hair and dark eyes. By the way she was examining the merchandise, Draco could tell that she had experience with these contraptions.
Young, experienced, and currently by herself: just what Draco was looking for.
"Yes...?" she said, looking instantly skeptical. Draco frowned. Did he really come off so immediately distrustful? "Can I help you?"
"In fact, I think you can," Draco said smoothly. "Do you know how to ride one of these Jet Ski things?"
She looked like she wasn't sure if she should laugh at him or not. "I... Yes, I know how to ride one of these Jet Ski things," she replied. "Why?"
Draco took a step closer to her and lowered his voice. "Because I want to learn, but I've never touched one." He smiled in the most charming, endearing way that he could. "What's your name?"
She looked at Draco like he might be something other than human. “...Melody," she said after a long moment of silent scrutiny.
"Melody, my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And that—ah, that means nothing to you, does it?"
She stared at him. "Draco Malfoy?" she repeated disbelievingly. "Uh... No, can't say that it does."
He laughed. "Right—I just—sorry. Anyway, I'd like to make you a deal, Melody. I want to learn how to ride one of these. I want to learn, and I want to learn quickly, and I want to do it tomorrow morning. On a scale of one to ten, how much do you like that red one you've been eyeing for the last ten minutes?"
Melody balked at him, clearly a bit perturbed that he'd been watching her ogle over a bright crimson Kawasaki. "I... uh... I suppose I would say eleven, if I'm being honest," she answered, staring at it wistfully.
"Right. What would say if I told you I was prepared to buy two of them, and that I wanted you to teach me how to ride tomorrow? To repay for your services, you could keep one afterwards."
She stared at him blankly, her jaw falling open and eyes going wide.
Draco was too impatient to deal with her speechlessness for long. "Melody," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder where she stood frozen to the spot. "Listen. I'm a busy man. If you don't want to do it, by all means you may say no—I'll find someone else. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Will you help me out, or not?"
"I have class tomorrow," she said blankly.
“Skive," Draco responded, shrugging.
Melody swallowed audibly, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Are... are we being recorded, or something? Am I on some kind of a reality TV show?"
Her eyes darted around the mostly empty warehouse like she was looking for something.
"What? A reality what? No," Draco said, annoyed. "Just answer the question—what's it going to be, a few hours of your time in exchange for the ride of your life, or are we done, here?"
She glanced quickly at the red Jet Ski before looking back to him. Later, Draco would tell himself that her quick decision had less to do with the bribe and more to do with his stunning good looks and charismatic smile.
"I'm in," she said, grinning.
"This... is... awesome!"
They'd been out on the water for less than an hour, and Draco hadn't stopped laughing and smiling the entire time. As it turned out, he'd purchased two of the finest personal watercrafts that muggle money could buy. The red one for her, a green one for himself... and they went fast.
Nowhere near as fast as a quality broomstick, of course, but still. There was something extremely exhilarating about the whole ordeal. The machine rumbling beneath him, the roar of the engine when he accelerated, the wind on his face and sea water splashing in all directions when he turned.
Draco could suddenly understand the appeal of doing something like, say, enchanting a muggle motorcycle so that it could fly.
It was all so... exposing, too. Draco rarely did things like go swimming, even when the weather was agreeable in Britain. But here he was, wearing nothing but swimming trunks, his absurdly pale skin practically glowing in the Australian sunshine (he did, at least, have the foresight to slather on the most effective magical sun protectant available before leaving).
But there was no way he would go anywhere without his wand or his fully stocked dragon-skin bag, the former of which was currently inside of the latter. Fortunately, the seat of his new ride opened up to reveal a compartment, and so Draco was able to stash his bag in there.
He finally slowed to a stop, unable to stop grinning for even a second. Melody pulled up beside him, looking equally windswept and cheery. She killed the engine so that they could talk, and Draco quickly did the same. "You ride like a professional! You haven't even wiped out once," she said, sweeping some of her hair out of her face. "Are you sure you've never ridden before?"
"Nope. I must be a natural," Draco said. Though really, he thought, they were extremely easy to maneuver. He probably could have figured it out himself if he'd bothered to try.
"So then... Draco," Melody said, the emphasis on his name a clear indication that she thought it was made up. "You seem to be getting along just fine, don't you think? So, unless there's something else you need from me..."
Draco pursed his lips, trying to come to a decision he had been deliberating on for a while, now.
He'd chosen this specific bay for a reason; if that bartender was correct, then they were only a few kilometers from where this supposed 'cursed island' was.
He'd initially planned on going out alone, once he felt comfortable enough riding one of these things.
...However.
Now that he was out on the water, a few things occurred to him that he had not thought of before. What if he did wipe out, and flung himself into the ocean? He wasn't a great swimmer, and he was pretty sure this 'life vest' that he was wearing was a joke of a safety device and would do little to help him stay afloat.
Even more potentially upsetting—what if something truly awful happened, and this Jet Ski broke down? If this stupid island really did exist and it really was cursed, and he was stranded somewhere, alone and unable to use magic...
"Actually," Draco said, making up his mind. "There is something else you can do for me. How do you feel about going for a bit of a longer ride, Melody?"
She grinned, gripping the handles and making the engine roar to life again. "Lead the way!"
Draco did.
Making Melody accompany him turned out to be an even smarter idea than Draco could have anticipated. He knew the general area of where the island was supposed to be, but he may have wandered about on his Jet Ski for hours if it weren't for her.
"Oh, my god! Draco!" she suddenly screamed, loud enough to be heard even over the rumbling of their engines. She stopped, looking absolutely panicked. "I forget, I completely forgot—I have a doctor's appointment, and I can't miss it—"
Draco stared, quickly glancing upwards and smiling widely when he saw it. Just the barest hint of something shimmering, a translucency he surely would have missed otherwise.
The anti-muggle ward.
"I have to go, I to go back, I—"
"Melody. Listen to me," Draco said sternly, maneuvering his own Jet Ski closer to her. "You don't have a doctor's appointment. You haven't forgotten anything."
She shook her head stubbornly. "No, I do, I—"
"With who? What doctor? And for what?"
She gaped at him for a moment, her mind clearly racing. "I... It's important, it's..."
Melody frowned, looking down at the water concernedly. "Exactly," Draco said when she could come up with nothing. "You don't have any appointment at all."
She glanced back up at him, confusion and concern written all over her face.
Draco considered her for a long moment. What would happen if he broke the Statue of Secrecy here? He wasn't in Britain anymore, and besides, it wasn't like he was going to actually perform magic...
Draco decided to word things carefully. "You think you have a doctor's appointment because you're being affected by a... a magnetic force field," he said. "There's something, uh, electric in the air around here that messes with people's minds, trying to keep people away. But we're going to keep going, anyway. You don't have somewhere else you need to be. Do you believe me?"
Melody stared at him in disbelief. "...What?" she said weakly.
"You believe that you don't have a doctor's appointment, right? Because you can't even recall what it is, can you?"
"...I..."
"Because of the force field. There's a secret island around here that your government is trying to keep people away from. I've been trying to find it. I don't care if you believe me or not, but here are your options: you can either turn back now and try to figure out some doctor's appointment that you know isn't real, or you can come with me. Your choice."
She stared at Draco for a long moment, her face completely blank. "A secret island," she repeated slowly. "...A secret island that the government is hiding from us."
"Yes."
"And you've been looking for it."
"Yes."
"And they're using a magnetic force field to keep people away. One that literally makes people think they need to leave when they get too close? Like... like magic?"
Draco instantly laughed. "Yes," he said, smiling. "It's very, very much like magic."
Her emotionless face became suddenly interested, curiosity sparking in her eyes. Draco was just shocked that she didn't immediately start calling him crazy.
"Well, what in the world is on it? How and why is the government hiding an entire island?"
"That's what I want to find out," Draco answered, grinning wryly. "Are you coming with me, then?"
"You know, a more sensible person would probably stay far, far away from you, Draco Malfoy," Melody admitted, but she was smirking. "But you know what? Fuck it, yeah, I'm coming with. Let's go find a cursed island."
Draco grinned, revving his engine and heading towards where he could see the ward shimmering, the direction the island must be in. She followed close behind him, and he couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Draco Malfoy, purposefully bringing a muggle companion with him through an anti-muggle ward
on his quest to find Harry Potter, the Master of Death.
Life really was strange.
They rode for several minutes before a series of jarring, disturbing events happened which made Draco's amused disposition vanish.
The first was a rush of heat that swept over his body at some point—an undeniable feeling of something magical. Had they passed some new sort of barrier, had they triggered some kind of alarm?
Draco hardly had time to worry about that before another, far more powerful sensation won his full attention.
It felt like his insides had been hollowed out, as though all the warmth of his blood and tissues had been sucked right out of his body. He shivered violently, slowing down, and for a moment he found it difficult to breathe. Melody slowed as well, looking concerned. Obviously, whatever had just affected him had done nothing to her.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
It took Draco several long, shaky breaths for him to realize what had just happened.
His magic. This was his magic being suppressed. This, right here, right now... was what it felt like to be magic-less.
He stared at the muggle girl with new eyes. "Is this how you feel all the time?" he gasped, the horrified question escaping his lips before he could stop it.
"What are you talking about? I—oh! Oh, my god!" Melody pointed over Draco's head, looking awestruck. "Draco, look!"
Draco turned and looked over his shoulder. There, not far in front of them at all, was a small, desert island that had certainly not been there just moments before. The sky around it was darker, clouds gathering over it like a storm was brewing. Every single thing about it screamed ominous and dangerous.
If Draco had been by himself, he probably would have turned around right then. The sudden feeling of being magic-less was horrifying. He had never felt more vulnerable in his life.
But Melody, the young, muggle girl who had just seen real magic for the first time in her life and did not feel the loss of something which she had never known, visibly brightened. "Draco, did you see that? It just showed up! Wow! You were right—shit, what else is the government hiding from us?"
She revved her engine, moving in that direction and hesitating when Draco did not immediately follow. "Well, what are you waiting for? I thought you'd been looking for this! Let's go!"
Draco stared at her, amazed at her daring. "You're a Gryffindor, for sure."
"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked, noting the tone of his voice. "Is that some kind of insult?"
"Actually... No," Draco responded. "It just means you're very brave, is all."
"Oh. Well, you're a Gryffindor, too, then," she said, grinning. "Let's go see what's up with this crazy island already!"
Draco took a deep breath and nodded. If this muggle girl could so fearlessly walk into something with nothing but her curiosity driving her, then he, Draco Malfoy, could do the same thing for Harry.
You better be here you asshole, Draco thought as they sped towards the island, determined to leave no stone unturned. I'm going to find you.
By the time they made it to the shore, Draco's sense of foreboding had increased exponentially. The air vibrated with a sinister energy, and the sky, too, darkened several shades. Around the perimeter of the island were some large pieces of driftwood, but where the branches may have come from, Draco had no idea. His heart was racing as they stepped onto the sandy shores place which looked as though it had nothing living on it at all.
Draco reached into the compartment of his Jet Ski under his seat and grabbed his bag. He slung it over his shoulder, resisting the instinctual urge to pull out his wand and have it at the ready. He knew it would be useless here, and besides, the muggle would just be even more confused.
Unlike Draco, Melody seemed not to notice the ominous atmosphere even slightly. She looked around the empty space and frowned.
"What is this place?" she said, walking forward. The ground went uphill at a slight incline. Draco followed behind her warily.
"I dunno." Draco felt so empty, so unnatural. His every instinct was telling him that this was a very bad place, and they should leave, right now. It was dark and heavy with the feeling of—
Death.
Somehow, without knowing how he knew it, Draco could feel the undeniable presence of Death itself in this place.
It was a thought that would have made anyone else run away, not onwards.
Feeling both terrified and excited, Draco continued to follow Melody up the hill. He was
extremely glad to not be here alone.
They walked in silence for a few moments. Everything was eerily still, a seemingly blank space of white sand surrounded by dark, calm waters. The only sound Draco could hear was that of his own heart thumping against his rib cage, quick and erratic.
Then the ground caved in.
The sand suddenly began falling directly in front of them, an instant and inexplicable whirlpool that nearly swallowed them both. Draco and Melody screamed, backing away as quickly as possible to escape.
Draco tripped and fell. A gaping chasm was forming itself before them, and he would have fallen into it if Melody hadn't grabbed his arm and yanked him away with a strength he would have never expected from such a small girl.
It was like the center of the island was falling in on itself. For a horrible moment, Draco feared it may be another dementor breeding ground, but no—there was no iciness, no feelings of despair here. Just a huge hole of deepest black which was rapidly forming, and there was something moving, something writhing within the shadows below—
Their incoherent screams both died, so horrified were they at the scene which unfolded before them.
Rotting, animated corpses began crawling out of the still sifting sand, dragging their decaying bodies from the hole. Draco's heart stopped at sight of what he knew had to be Inferi.
The terror froze him. Draco stood there, his wand useless in his bag, unable to do anything but stare in unfathomable horror as the undead crawl over each other, pushing themselves to their feet where the skin and flesh peeled off their bones. Draco was rendered immobile as one came near him, petrified as the one thought dashed across his mind:
I am going to become one of them.
"Ahhhhh!"
A scream that was more of a battle cry jump-started Draco's heart back to life. Melody had gone and grabbed a piece of driftwood, rushing headlong towards the Inferi closest to Draco and stabbing it in the face. The wood went straight through it's eye socket, and after a suspended moment where the corpse stood there, unmoving, it crumpled and fell to the ground.
By the time she had turned to face him again, Draco had recovered enough from his frozen moment of terror to react. Without a word, they both ran, sprinting for their Jet Skis on the shore.
"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" Melody started screaming repeatedly as she fumbled for her key and hurriedly started the engine.
Draco did the same, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder where more Inferi continued to stagger towards them. They were incredibly slow, at least.
And then Draco stared in blank horror when the engine wouldn't start. "What's wrong with this thing!?" he roared, trying again and again to start it.
Melody glanced over at it. "Oh, Jesus, you're out of fuel!"
"What is fuel!?"
Melody's frightened expression turned so thunderstruck that it might have been comical, under other circumstances.
"How do you—no, just—get on mine with me!"
Draco didn't wait to be told twice. He scrambled onto the back of Melody's Jet Ski and wrapped his arms around her waist, and the two took off just as the first wave of Inferi were closing in.
The second they took off into the water, safely away from the moving corpses, Melody stared screaming.
"Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Zombies! The government is hiding a zombie island!" she yelled.
"Zom-what?" Draco shouted back.
"Zombies! Those were fucking zombies! Oh hell, it's the apocalypse, Draco, it's the zombie apocalypse!"
"Those weren't zombies!" Draco yelled, having never heard the word before and feeling he at least owed her the truth. "Those were Inferi!"
She glanced back at him, dubious. "What the fuck are Inferi?"
“They're products of dark magic, it's... They're basically animated corpses!"
"...That is a fucking zombie!" Melody screeched, louder than ever.
Draco felt the sudden, welcoming sensation of his magic sparking back to life as they sped further away from the cursed island. He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, and it struck him so strongly that he couldn't help it—he started laughing.
Melody hit the brakes, letting the engine idle so that she could look at him properly. She looked fiercely angry, despite how ashen her face was.
"Why are you laughing!? Who the fuck are you?"
Draco was grinning like an idiot, slap-happy from the rush of adrenaline coursing through them after their escape. It was all just so absurd! "I'm a wizard! A really stupid one!" he confessed, not even caring about secrets at this point. "And you! You just killed an Inferi with a stick! That was amazing!"
"You mean that zombie?"
Melody finally stopped shouting. She cracked a smile, too—probably starting to feel the same euphoria that only followed a near-death experience that Draco was experiencing. "Head shots, Draco, everyone knows that."
There was a beat of silence, and then they were both laughing harder than ever. Draco's hands were shaking and he felt like he might be sick, but he was alive.
Their laughter ended at the sound of half a dozen loud, ear-splitting cracks.
Six witches and wizards in dark cloaks suddenly appeared on brooms, hovering around Draco and Melody and encircling them. They all rose their wands at the same time, and—
Draco reacted instinctively. He grabbed Melody around the waist and fell backwards, plunging them into the water and dodging a plethora of brightly colored spells.
It was a valiant attempt at escape, but a futile one. Draco cursed himself for not having thought to grab his wand from his bag the second he felt his magic stirring within him again. He knew that apparating without one was possible, but he'd never been able to do it, and he wasn't about to try with a squirming muggle in his arms.
He also cursed the life vests they wore, which, as it turned out, worked quite well indeed at keeping them afloat.
Draco laughed weakly at the wizard who hovered closest to him. The older man did not look amused as he pointed his wand not at them, but to his side, where a large, floating platform appeared. Then he pointed his wand at Draco and Melody, wordlessly causing the two teenagers to float out of the water and land on the landing he'd just created, where they sprawled gracelessly onto its hard surface. The wizard then stood next to them, dismounting his broom and looking extraordinarily irate.
Melody stared all around, looking about the people flying on brooms holding wands with huge eyes, completely amazed.
"Oh my god," she gasped, looking at Draco. "You really are a wizard. Wizards... are real."
Draco just nodded, not really seeing the point in denying it. She ran a hand through her hair, looking like she might faint. "This is even crazier than the time I found out canned potatoes were a thing," she murmured, her eyes going out of focus.
"Stupefy."
A red flash flew from the tip of one of the witch's wands, hitting Melody right in the chest. The poor girl looked surprised for a split second before she slumped forward, unconscious.
"That was uncalled for!" Draco shouted angrily. He caught her by the shoulders before she hit her head and held her to his chest.
"Who are you?" the wizard looming over them barked, ignoring Draco's outcry. His voice was low and threatening.
"Hey... He looks familiar," one of the other wizards spoke up, leaning forward on his broom. "Are you famous or something, kid? What's your name?"
"Longbottom."
Draco answered so quickly and confidently that he surprised even himself. "Neville Longbottom."
"Oh... oh yeah! You were in the papers quite a bit a while ago, weren't you? Britain's little wizarding hero."
"That's me," Draco said, putting his hands up defensively. "You caught me."
"I don't give a damn who you are," the wizard before him snapped. "Mr. Longbottom, why are you here? This particular zone is off limits to all personal. Surely you felt the magical suppression within the vicinity?"
"Yeah," Draco said grievously. "Yeah, I did. What the hell is that island? It's infested with Inferi!"
The wizards and witches all exchanged dark glances. "That's classified," that same man finally said. "The pertinent information here is that you have broken the law. Not only have you ridden out into forbidden waters, but you took a non-magical individual with you and exposed them to magic. These are very grievous offenses, Mr. Longbottom. British war hero or not, you're under arrest."
Two of the witches dismounted, one of whom conjured up a very menacing pair of glowing, enchanted handcuffs.
"Wh-what?" Draco stuttered, pulling the unconscious girl more tightly to his chest like a human shield.
"Don't worry, we'll take care of the girl's memory," one of them said, almost pityingly.
"No! No, you can't! You can't do that, you can't arrest me—don't you just, you know, give out slips with a date for a future hearing, or something?"
They all laughed. "I don't know how they do it in Britain, but the Magical Commonwealth of Australia doesn't work like that. You're under arrest now, Mr. Longbottom. As in, you are being detained at this very moment."
Draco had just reached into his bag when a stunner hit him in the back, plunging him into darkness.
'Draco... Draco... Draco...'
Draco groaned.
He knew he was dreaming at once, because this nightmare was a familiar one.
The Department of Mysteries.
Currently, he was sprawled out on the cold, stone floor, like he'd passed out there, right in front of the dais. He pushed himself into a seated position, shivering when he looked up.
He was looking at the veil from the exact same place where he had witnessed it happen. Where he'd watched Harry reach out with one hand, a golden ring on his finger with that symbol...
A line within a circle within a triangle...
Draco watched the flickering fabric for a while on the floor. Whatever was happening on the other side of reality, he was sure it wasn't good. He was probably being hauled into a cell right now, soon to be woken up and questioned as to why the hell he was purposefully going to an illegal, cursed island on Jet Skis with a muggle.
"Because I'm looking for the Master of Death, of course," he muttered, realizing just how crazy it sounded, even in his dream.
"Yes, that's what I thought."
Draco jumped violently at the sound of a soft, familiar voice.
Luna Lovegood was sitting in the front row of the empty, stone auditorium, directly in front of the dais. She was wearing yellow, but she had no sunflower in her hair, anymore.
"Lovegood?" Draco balked in surprise, jumping to his feet.
"Hello, Draco," she said. Her gaze flickered to the veil, her expression blank. "You dream about this place a lot then, too?"
Draco's eyes fell to the floor. "All the time," he admitted, feeling strangely embarrassed about it. Luna hummed understandably, but didn't comment.
"Wait—Luna! I'm not just dreaming you up, am I? You can do that, you can use dream magic, right? You're actually here?"
She blinked at him slowly, giving Draco no indication whatsoever that she understood what he meant.
“Luna, I need you to listen to me," he went on, walking towards her and placing both of his hands on her shoulders. "I'm in trouble. I—"
"It was my fault."
“I—what?"
Luna stayed sitting, looking up at Draco with huge, blue eyes that were suddenly filling with tears. "It was my fault, Draco. I gave him his cloak back, I woke him up in St. Mungo's. I thought he deserved to make his own choice, you know? But I miss him. Did I do the wrong thing?"
Draco stared, completely unprepared for this confession. He gaped at her for a long moment before deciding that he didn't have time to confront this truth, not now. "Luna, listen, please. I'm in Australia, I was taken into custody by their aurors or whatever. I need you to help me. I can't go to whatever their version of Azkaban is!"
"You've gotten yourself arrested? In Australia?" she asked, tears still gathering at the corners of her eyes. Draco nodded.
"Well... That was silly, Draco."
Draco opened his mouth, about to seethe something impatiently, to—
"Rennervate."
Draco woke with a start.
He found himself in a small, dark room, his hands bound behind his back in a rigid, wooden chair. A table was in front of him and three wizards towered over him, their wands drawn and their faces cold. One of them was the man whom had placed him under arrest. Draco swallowed thickly.
"Mr. Longbottom," the familiar wizard drawled. "My name is Douglass Hahn. Do you remember what it was you did to find yourself here?"
Draco feigned thoughtfulness for a while. "Hmmm... Nope, can't say that I do," he said, smiling. "Should probably just let me go, then."
"Very funny," Hahn said drily. He slammed his hands down on the table, leaning closer to Draco and looking murderous. "Why were you in Portae Mortis?" he roared.
Draco flinched. "Wh-what? Porta-what?"
The older man stared into Draco's eyes unflinchingly. Draco had experienced Snape doing this very thing to him far too many times to not sense that he was having his mind probed at. I don't know what you're talking about, he thought adamantly, shielding his deeper thoughts behind Occlumency barriers as best he could.
After a long, tense moment, Hahn finally backed away. "Who are you really?" he asked slowly.
Draco stared at the ceiling. "Neville Longbottom," he answered stubbornly.
"Look at me when you speak!" Hahn roared. Draco saw him drawing his wand from the corner of his eyes.
He braced himself, knowing that he was about to be hit with something horrendous—
A sharp crack echoed loudly in the room, causing two of the three wizards to fire off spells at once. But it was not Draco whom they directed their curses towards, but something small and yellow and—
"Dobby?" Draco balked in absolute disbelief—but no, it was Kreacher; Kreacher was here, and he had landed on the table, and was that his bag?
"You shall not touch Mr. Malfoy!" the old elf screeched. Their curses went flying off in the wrong direction, like Kreacher had summoned an invincible force field of immense protection.
Hahn fired off a curse of his own, but Kreacher snapped his fingers and his wand flew from his hands. Then, before anyone could so much as react to that, Kreacher hopped onto Draco's lap, grabbed him about the waist, and disapparated with him.
They landed somewhere that Draco didn't recognize. A desolate, stormy place by the sea, the antithesis of the warm and friendly beaches of Australia. Instead of sand, there were stones—perilous and rocky cliffs.
"Kreacher!" Draco shouted in disbelief. The elf had already begun busying himself with untying his restraints. "How did you—where did you—"
"Mistress Lovegood has been sending me," he muttered. Then, as though Draco couldn't have been thankful enough already, he dropped Draco's dragon-skin bag at his feet.
"Luna," he breathed. "So she really could hear me... Kreacher, you have to thank her for me."
Kreacher nodded stiffly. "Where are we? Is this Britain? Also, what are you wearing?"
Maybe it shouldn't have mattered, but Kreacher's attire certainly was jarring. He was wearing what appeared to be a horrible, miniature tuxedo, only it was entirely yellow.
“Mistress Lovegood says yellow is her favorite color, so Kreacher has made himself a yellow outfit to make her smile," he answered. "She is not giving Kreacher the clothes herself, sir, only the order that Kreacher can make and wear whatever he is liking."
Draco hated how that made his heart ache a bit. "To answer your other question, sir, we are in Britain. I know you is trying to avoid Britain... Kreacher is sorry, sir. It is the first place Kreacher is thinking of."
Kreacher stared at the turbulent waters, out to where Draco could see the mouth of dark and ominous looking cave, a haunted look in his eyes.
The elf didn't explain further than that.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Draco said, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Really. Thank you. I owe you and Luna more than you could know."
Kreacher slowly looked back to him. Draco got the impression that the elf hadn't heard a word he'd just said when he'd bene staring at that cave. "Mistress Lovegood is also wanting Kreacher to warn Mr. Malfoy not to go to any major cities in Brazil, sir," he said.
Draco blinked in surprise. "What? Why not?"
"Because your mother is there, sir."
Kreacher gave him one last, condescending glance before bowing low to the ground and disapparating... leaving Draco feeling more conflicted and alone than ever before.