Got Any Sevens? (Go Fish)
“Where are we?” asked Harry, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.
Draco stood and glanced around to find that they had landed in a graveyard of some sort, with overgrown vines encasing the many old, cracked tombstones. The dark sky loomed over them, devoid of even a single star, and casting a shadow across the land.
“I don’t know,” said Draco, drawing his robes closer around him to block out the chill in the air.
“Do you think this is part of the task?” Harry asked. If Draco didn’t know any better, he would say Potter sounded slightly nervous.
“What are we meant to do?” snapped Draco. He hadn’t signed up for any surprise tasks, and quite frankly he wasn’t having it. “Defile a grave?”
“Yeah, I’m so sure they want us to- oh-” Harry stopped talking abruptly, slamming a hand to his forehead and screwing his eyes shut.
“Potter? What’s wrong?” Draco asked, genuine concern pricking at the edge of his mind. The concern wasn't for Potter's well being of course, but for the fact that if something was causing the boy pain, surely Draco ought to fear that he may soon be in the same danger.
Harry didn't seem to be in any place to answer, practically bent over in agony, and Draco didn’t wait for one, because he just noticed the hooded figure of a man approaching.
The man, however, did not catch Draco's eye as much as the thing the man held in his arms, like a baby in shape and size, and yet still the furthest thing from a baby, with its pale skin and alien-like features, all wrapped up in a blanket.
Draco wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't move for fear.
Then, the baby spoke, its voice high and cold. "Kill the spare…wait." The baby squinted its red eyes, scanning over Draco and Harry. "Why are there two of them?"
The man hesitated, his wand suspended in air as he stared at them. Due to Draco's previous drinking of Polyjuice back in the maze, he currently appeared identical to Harry Potter. "Master, I think the one touching his scar in pain must surely be the real one."
"Yes Wormtail…very astute…now kill…"
Staring down the barrel of Wormtail's wand, Draco slapped his hand to his forehead before he could utter a spell.
"Ouch," he said, trying his best to sound convincing. "My scar hurts too!"
Wormtail hesitated once more, wand lowering. "My Lord…what do I do?"
The monster baby hissed in frustration. "Oh, just tie them both up, Wormtail. We'll sort it out after the ritual is complete."
Wormtail hurried to complete his Master's orders, putting the bundle down on the ground and pointing his wand at them once more. Draco couldn’t move as he and Harry were dragged towards a large, marble headstone. Wormtail slammed them against it, and before Draco and Harry could even think to escape, thick ropes appeared, binding them both tightly to the grave, their shoulders touching.
“You!” Draco heard Potter gasp beside him, somehow recognizing the man. Wormtail retreated once he ensured they were both secured to the tombstone from neck to ankles, and Draco watched as he pulled out a black cauldron from seemingly no where. The cauldron was comically sized, big enough to fit a large pony or a small horse.
Draco and Harry struggled against the binds, but their efforts were fruitless. They could only watch in mounting horror as Wormtail picked up the baby-thing and dropped it into the cauldron, the liquid inside sloshing around.
“Quickly, now!” hissed the baby, and Wormtail stirred into action, lifting his wand yet again.
Draco flinched away from the moment, but for once Wormtail wasn’t pointing it at him.
Voice shaking, he spoke, “Bone of the father…unknowingly given you will renew your son!”
The ground beneath Draco’s feet split upon, and a powdery substance rose from it, floating into the cauldron, which began to heat and bubble.
Draco glanced to his left where Harry was bound, and they met eyes, both full of fear. Draco knew that at this moment they were both thinking the same thing. They needed to get out. They needed to get out.
Wormtail continued, his voice now trembling even more terribly. “Flesh of the servant…willingly given you will revive your master.”
Draco couldn’t tear his gaze away from the hideous sight, as Wormtail brought a dagger down on his own hand, letting it fall into the cauldron with a plop. The liquid inside turned a bright red, bubbling even faster.
After Wormtail’s sobbing mostly subsided, he approached the grave in which Harry and Draco were tied up. Draco flinched away from him as much as the ropes would allow, which was, admittedly, not very much. He was holding the dagger again, and it was uncomfortably close.
“Blood of the enemy…forcibly taken…you will resurrect your foe…Master, which do I take blood from?” Wormtail asked, unsure.
“Either - both - just hurry!” the cold voice from inside the cauldron hissed.
Draco shook his head rapidly. “Not me!”
Wormtail, however, did not listen. He brought the dagger up to Harry first, cutting into his forearm, despite the boy’s attempt to break through the ropes. Draco was next, and he couldn’t contain the cry of pain that escaped him upon being stabbed. Wormtail brought the bloodied knife to the cauldron, and flicked their blood into the mixture.
After completing this task, he fell back to his knees, cradling his handless arm.
Draco looked on in absolute terror as the potion turned a brilliant white color, shooting a thick layer of fog into the night air, so he could see nothing except Harry’s pale, petrified face beside him. For a moment, Draco thought that the monster baby had turned into a cloud, but then the tall figure of a man appeared.
The fog cleared, and Draco gasped as he met the form of Lord Voldemort. Snake-like in appearance with a flattened nose, red eyes, and pale, scaly body.
The worst part of all…he was butt naked.
“Robe me,” Voldemort said smoothly, and Womrtail hurried to cover his Lord with a traditional, black robe. “Ah, it’s so nice to be back in the same robes I wore thirteen years ago.”
“I had to go back to Godric’s Hallow to find that robe, my Lord,” Wormtail whimpered. “And then I had to pay and arm and a leg to have it dry cleaned, because it was covered in rubble.”
“Yes, Wormtail, I have to hand it to you, you did very well,” Voldemort said. “I’ll have you rewarded shortly. Now I can kill Harry Potter in the same robes I killed his parents in. But first I must figure out which of these two is the real Harry Potter…and which is the spare.”
His red eyes glinted as he addressed Draco and Harry, still tied to the headstone. Draco felt a wave of fear spur him into action.
“It’s me!” he blurted. “I’m the spare, he’s the real one! Kill him not me! I’m Draco Malfoy, I’m on your side!”
“Lucius Malfoy’s son, you say?” Voldemort tilted his head to the side.
“It’s true,” Harry verified, his voice quiet. “I’m the real Harry Potter.”
Lord Voldemort’s eyes narrowed as he chewed on their words, stroking his chin in thought. “But how can I be sure?”
“Because we just told you!” Harry said. Voldemort ignored him, pacing back and forth.
“I am going to ask you a series of questions that only the real Harry Potter would know.” Voldemort stopped pacing, standing in front of them with his arms crossed. “What number am I thinking of?”
Draco glanced sideways at Harry, who looked just as bewildered as he felt.
“Why would we know that?” Harry asked.
Voldemort scowled. “Answer the question!”
“Er, five?” Harry guessed.
“Six?” Draco guessed.
“No!” Voldemort shouted, his nostrils flaring with rage. “It was seven. Obviously.”
“Well, I was closest without going over,” said Draco, but no one payed him any mind.
Harry was puzzled. “Why is that obvious?”
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “Seven…for my seven horcruxes, obviously.”
Draco’s jaw fell open. He had heard the word ‘horcrux’ before in a children’s book his father used to read him, and he knew it was one of the most evil pieces of magic ever. Even, Wormtail, who had been sobbing on the ground up until that point, looked up in shock. Harry, however, just looked confused.
“What’s a horcrux?”
Voldemort blanched as if he just realized what he said. “Nothing…next question.” He cleared his throat. “What was the moon phase on the night I killed your parents?”
“Why would I know that?” Harry asked, exasperated. “I was one!”
“It was a waxing crescent,” Draco answered, confident.
Voldemort’s mouth stretched into a terrible smile that made his face look even more monstrous. “Very good, Harry,” he said, his eyes piercing Draco in such a way that made him feel oddly see-through.
Voldemort tilted his chin towards Harry, next. “So, you’re the Malfoy. Your father renounced me, after my…little problem, thirteen years ago. I should have you killed to punish him.”
“I’m not Malfoy,” said Harry.
“But,” Voldemort went on, as if Harry hadn’t interrupted at all. “I won’t, for I believe you could make a very valued Death Eater.”
“Yeah, I’m still not Malfoy,” said Harry. He turned to face Draco. “Tell him, I’m not Malfoy.”
“He’s not Malfoy,” said Draco, eager to get Voldemort to stop thinking he’s Harry. “I am. Let me be a Death Eater!”
Voldemort’s mouth curled down into a displeased frown. “Why must it be so hard to figure out who’s who?”
“It’s not hard at all. Just listen to us!” Harry shouted.
Voldemort put a hand up, silencing Harry while he thought. “Alright,” he said finally, rubbing his temples. “We shall simply wait until the Polyjuice Potion wears off. How much longer will that be?”
“Probably another twenty minutes,” said Harry.
“Perfect,” Voldemort said clasping his hands together. “What shall we do in the meantime. Wormtail?”
Wormtail either didn’t hear, or was in too much pain to respond, still nursing his stump arm.
Voldemort sneered. “Wormtail?”
Wormtail flinched, snapping back to reality. “M-my Lord!”
“What shall we do in the meantime?”
“Er, well, um we could…” Wormtail’s eyes flickered around the graveyard rapidly as if an answer would appear in midair. “Play a game of cards?”
Voldemort’s expression froze, nothing but murder written on his face. Draco was sure he was seconds away from killing Wormtail right there, but then the moment passed and his expression thawed.
“An excellent idea, Wormtail,” Voldemort said. “In fact, I believe I have a deck of cards in my pocket right now. Thirteen years ago, I was planning on playing a game with my closest Death Eaters, that is, before I lost my body.”
Voldemort threw a nasty look at Harry and Draco. Draco tried to make his face apologetic, while Harry simply frowned.
“What do you say, boys? Would you like to play a game of cards?” Voldemort asked. When neither Harry nor Draco responded, he squinted at them. “Do children even play with cards nowadays?”
“Only poor children,” Draco answered.
Harry made a face at him. “I’ve played cards before.”
“With who? The Weasleys?”
“Enough!” Voldemort snapped, and Draco and Harry fell silent for fear. “You will play, whether or not you like it, because I, Lord Voldemort, asked you to. Wormtail, give me a hand and untie their arms so they can hold their cards.”
Wormtail scurried to do as his Master asked, cutting the top few ropes, so while they still couldn’t run, they could at least move their arms around.
"We're going to play a little game I like to call poker. Wormtail, deal the hand,” Voldemort said, pulling the deck out of his pocket and passing it to Wormtail.
As Wormtail struggled with counting out cards one-handed, Harry piped up. "Er, I'm not entirely sure on how to play poker.”
Voldemort frowned, impatient. "I said I like to call it Poker, not that it actually is poker. The game is Go Fish.”
Harry’s mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape. Draco raised his hand. “I don’t know how to play Go Fish.”
“How don’t you?” Harry asked, shocked.
“I’m not poor, remember?” Draco returned, pointing a finger to his head, mockingly.
“Silence!” Voldemort yelled, and Draco pressed himself against the grave to make himself look smaller. “Wormtail, have you finished dealing the cards yet?”
Wormtail, evidently had not finished, and was currently standing in a circle of fallen cards, undoubtedly, that he dropped due to his lack of a hand.
“You fool!” Voldemort scolded, before wandlessly summoning the cards to him. “I shall do it. Each player starts with seven cards.”
“I thought it was five cards,” Harry said.
“It’s seven,” said Voldemort, harsh.
Voldemort passed out the cards in a smooth, clockwise motion. Draco saw Harry wince in pain as Voldemort’s hand came close to Harry’s. Voldemort then placed the remaining cards in a neat, little pile on the ground between them. He remained standing, while Wormtail sat beside the deck.
Draco examined his cards to find seven with all different suits and numbers.
Harry, however, put down a set of threes in front of him. Draco didn’t quite know the object of this game yet, but he was pretty sure he was already losing.
“Why don’t you go first, Harry Potter number one,” Voldemort said, peering at Harry over his cards.
“Okay,” Harry said, biting his lips. “Um. Got any sevens?”
Voldemort let a hiss of anger leave his lips, before he handed Harry a seven of hearts.
“Malfoy,” Harry turned to him. “Got any queens?”
Draco looked at his deck, but he did not have any queens. “No,” he said.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Go fish.'"
Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, that’s rather stupid, isn’t it? We aren’t even by a lake.”
“It’s the name of the game, Malfoy. Whatever,” Harry said, shaking his head. He then reached his hand out towards the deck on the ground but, with his legs tied up as they were, he couldn’t reach. “Um, could you hand me a card?”
Voldemort smiled, darkly. “Why, of course,” he said, doing as Harry asked. Harry winced again at the closeness. “Harry Potter number two, it’s your turn.”
Draco didn’t very much appreciate being called by this name. He also, still didn’t know how to play, so he decided to copy what Harry did during his turn. “Uh, got any sevens?”
Voldemort’s eyes flashed dangerously. “You very well know I gave my seven to Harry Potter number one last turn. Go fish.”
Draco shrugged helplessly, as Voldemort handed him a card from the draw pile.
Wormtail, who had not been paying attention before, too distracted by his severed hand, perked up when he realized everyone was looking at him, expectantly. “Oh, my turn!” He glanced down at his deck, and then back up at Voldemort. “My Lord, got any sevens?”
Voldemort gripped his cards so tightly they bent. “GO FISH!” he roared, pulling his wand on Wormtail. “Crucio!”
Wormtail writhed on the ground as the curse struck him, screaming into the night. After several long, torturous seconds, Voldemort let up on the curse, leaving him whimpering and curling in on himself.
“My turn,” Voldemort snapped, before Wormtail could even draw a new card. “Harry Potter number one. Have you got any sevens?”
Harry's eyebrows furrowed. "You can't ask me for sevens when you haven't got any!"
"How do you know I haven't got any?" Voldemort pulled his cards close to his chest. "Are you cheating?"
"No, I'm not cheating! I just took your seven on my turn! " Harry argued.
"I don't recall," Voldemort said coldly. "Now, surrender your sevens to me or else I'll curse you like I cursed Wormtail!"
Harry huffed at the unfairness of this, before begrudgingly handing over his three seven cards.
“Wonderful,” he said. “Harry Potter number two. Have you got any sevens?”
Draco looked down. He did have a seven. He handed it over swiftly.
Voldemort slammed his set of sevens on the ground, victoriously. “A match! Let’s chalk that up to my win, now shall we?”
“I have a match too, though,” Harry said, pointing at his set of threes. Voldemort waved his hand, and wandlessly Harry’s match moved in front of him. “Hey! That’s cheating!”
“We’re going to play a new game now,” Voldemort said, and with another hand wave all the cards vanished. He reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a deck of Uno cards.
“I trust you’re all able to play Uno, correct?”
Harry and Wormtail nodded. Draco did as well, a moment later, even though he has never heard of Uno in his entire life. Voldemort dealt the cards, giving them seven each, just like last time.
Draco caught onto the rules fast enough, as the game progressed. He wasn’t doing too bad, either, having a healthy supply of each color. However, Voldemort and Harry were clearly in the lead, with less than five cards in each of their hands.
“Draw four,” said Harry, flashing Voldemort a triumphant look.
Voldemort bared his teeth, picking up four new cards, and slamming one down. “Skip!” he yelled, skipping Wormtail’s turn and going straight to Draco. Draco threw a green two down at the pile on the ground before him.
Harry threw down a wild card. “I change the color to red!” he announced, and Draco thought he saw a glimmer of fear on the Dark Lord’s face.
On Voldemort’s turn, he shook with silent rage for several seconds before he picked a card from the draw pile. His rage subsided upon seeing it, a terrifying smirk making its way on that pale face. Another wild card. He slammed it down. “I change it back to green.”
Wormtail placed a green down silently, as did Draco. Harry however, slammed down another wild card.
“Red,” he said.
Voldemort gave an enraged yell. “STOP CHANGING IT TO RED!” he roared, before finding a wild card of his own and making it green again.
Wormtail skipped Draco’s turn, much to Draco’s displeasure.
Harry, seemingly, was all out of wild cards and had to resort to looking in the deck for a green.
Several more turns passed, with Voldemort’s stack of cards growing slimmer, and Harry’s growing larger with each time he had to search for a red. Draco had around the same amount of cards Harry did, while Wormtail had so many cards Draco was surprised there even was a draw pile.
Everything changed when Voldemort slapped down his second to last card, a green seven.
He smirked with pride as he waved his last card in front of Harry’s face.
Draco was sure it was all over, but Harry didn’t seem fazed. In fact, he gave Voldemort a smirk of his own.
“You forgot to say, ‘Uno,’” he said, coolly. “You know what that means. Draw two.”
Voldemort screamed, knocking over the draw pile like a toddler throwing a tantrum.
“Enough of this nonsense!” he said, vanishing all the Uno cards with a swift hand gesture. “When will that blasted Polyjuice wear off?”
As if an answer to Voldemort’s question, Draco felt himself begin to change. His hair shrunk down to his regular, slick style, his face shifted back into sharp, pointy angles, and his skin paled drastically. No longer did he appear to be Harry Potter.
Voldemort smiled, and Draco felt a chill go down his spine. A moment ago, playing cards, while they waited for the potion to wear off Draco felt a sense of security. But now that this pretense had gone, he felt oddly vulnerable. A glance in Harry’s direction told him he felt the same way.
“So it’s true,” Voldemort said. “You’re Lucius Malfoy’s son, spawn of the pathetic coward who abandoned me.”
“If it counts for anything, m-my Lord, I wouldn’t have abandoned you,” Draco said.
Voldemort laughed, a low chuckle. “Your flattery is pathetic. But I appreciate the sentiment. Wormtail, untie the boy, so he can stand among us and prove his loyalty.”
Wormtail scampered forward, letting Draco off the gravestone. His legs felt weak from standing for so long, and he stumbled a little ways off to the side. He didn’t dare look Harry’s way. He didn’t think he could bear to see the anger in those green eyes.
“Now, Wormtail,” Voldemort said. “Shall we invite the others?”
Wormtail swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing, before he raised his left hand towards Voldemort. Voldemort grabbed him by the wrist and pulled down his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark. He pressed it with his long, pale index finger.
“Good,” he breathed. “You’ve done good, Wormtail. I shall reward you.”
With a wave of his wand, a metallic, silver liquid appeared in the place Wormtail’s right hand should be. After a moment of this liquid shifting around, it solidified, forming a perfect hand.
“Thank you, Master,” Wormtail cried with joy, flexing his newly formed fingers.
“Now,” Voldemort said, looking up at the night sky, the few stars scattered about. “Let’s see who will be brave enough to return, and who will be foolish enough to stay away.”
Draco nervously played with the hem of his robes while the four of them waited for the Death Eaters to arrive. What would his father do when he saw him? Hopefully, he would take him home, because that’s the only place Draco wanted to go right about now.
Minutes passed, and finally the pops of multiple apparitions filled the air. Draco soon found himself inside a large circle of masked, hooded figures. He scanned the crowd for his father, and found him soon enough, his long, blonde hair giving his identity away.
“Draco? What are you doing here?” Lucius asked, taking an unconscious step forward. Voldemort put a hand out, stopping him from moving any closer.
“My friends,” Voldemort said, addressing the circle. “Thirteen years. Thirteen long years since we’ve last met, and yet you all still answer my call as if it were yesterday. And yet…where were you all during those years, when I was in need? Why did none of you attempt to find me? Could it be…you doubted I would return?"
"I'm sorry!" a masked Death Eater fell to the ground at Voldemort's feet, sobbing. "I'm not worthy to bear your mark! I should have searched for you, but instead I just stayed home all day with my wife and kids! I don't even like my wife!"
Voldemort looked vaguely uncomfortable. He took a step back. Another Death Eater fell to their knees.
"I don't like my wife either! And to think, I’ve wasted all my time trying to make her happy, instead of making you happy, my Lord!”
“Well,” Voldemort said, but he was interrupted by several more Death Eaters falling to the ground.
“I can’t handle the married life any longer! I need adventure and war and murder!”
“Lord Voldemort is the only one we need!”
“Why don’t we all just get a divorce?”
The only Death Eater that remained standing was Lucius. “I love my wife,” he said, with a shrug. The other Death Eaters paused in their cries to give him a dirty look. He instantly fell to his knees under the peer pressure. “But I love you more, oh Great Dark Lord!”
“Father!” Draco couldn’t help but say, scandalized.
“Don’t tell your mother about this, Draco,” Lucius said, putting a finger to his lips. Then he moved so he only rested on one knee, facing Voldemort. “My Lord, as an apology for leaving you in your time of need, will you marry me?”
Lucius took off his wedding ring, and offered it to Voldemort. Voldemort’s eyes widened, struggling to speak. Then, one by one, the other kneeling Death Eaters did the same, offering their rings to their Lord.
“Marry me, too!”
“And me!”
“I have two rings!” said a Death Eater with two rings.
“Stop!” Voldemort finally said, backing away from the rings, the slightest hint of fear on his face. “You’re all…forgiven, just stand back up and put those things away.”
All the Death Eaters hurried to stand, shoving their rings back on their fingers and brushing the dirt off their robes. Only one, rather stupid Death Eater remained on his knees.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, waving his ring in front of Voldemort.
“No!” Voldemort yelled, pulling out his wand. “Crucio!”
The Death Eater screamed and spasmed on the ground. When the curse ended he craned his neck up, weakly. “But Harry Potter could be the flower girl!”
“Harry Potter won’t be anything, because he’s going to die.” Voldemort waved his wand, sending the stupid Death Eater flying backwards several feet. Then he pointed his wand at Harry, freeing him of his binds. Draco watched as Harry adjusted to standing again just as he had, glancing around at the circle of Death Eaters trapping him on all sides.
“Wormtail, give him back his wand. I want to duel.”
“Um, my Lord, I never took his wand,” said Wormtail.
“You are getting out of hand!” Voldemort said. “What do you mean you didn’t take it?”
“I had a lot on my mind, I’m sorry!” he cried.
“Yeah, it was in my pocket the whole time,” Harry said, pulling it out. “I couldn’t get it, since it was digging in to the grave.”
“No matter,” Voldemort said. “I assume you’ve been taught how to duel, haven’t you, boy?”
Harry didn’t respond to this patronising question. Instead he made a hard right, and bolted to the part of the Death Eater circle where Draco stood.
Draco, not expecting this to happen, couldn’t do anything as Harry Potter ran through him, knocking him down. His ears rang as his head hit the ground, so that even Voldemort’s scream of rage sounded muffled as Harry approached the Triwizard Cup. He turned his head sideways to watch the scene play out in front of him.
“No!” Voldemort yelled, and just a second before Harry reached the Cup, he casted a spell, forming a bright, blue shield to protect the Cup. Harry ran into the shield, and immediately flew backwards, like he had been shocked.
Lucius Malfoy swam into Draco’s view, leaning over him. “Are you alright, son?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Draco groaned, taking his father’s hand to pull himself up. “I wanna go home.”
“Not yet,” Lucius said, softly. “But when we do, I’ll buy you something nice, okay?”
“A Firebolt?” Draco asked, excitedly, the throbbing in his head beginning to fade.
“I’ll buy you a hundred Firebolts,” he said, patting Draco’s shoulder.
Draco opened his mouth to respond, but he fell silent as Voldemort reentered the circle, pulling a visibly injured Harry Potter along by his forearm. He threw Harry to the ground roughly, pressing his foot against the boy’s stomach, preventing him from standing.
“Running away, like a coward?” Voldemort tsked. “And I thought you were supposed to be a Gryffindor, Harry. What would Dumbledore say?”
Harry said nothing, simply glaring up at Voldemort.
“I should punish you for your disobedience, Harry,” Voldemort said. “But I think I will give the honors to someone else. But who?”
Voldemort scanned the crowd of Death Eaters, all bouncing around and waving their hands to be picked. Draco swallowed hard when the Dark Lord's focused on him.
“Ah, Draco Malfoy,” Voldemort said. The surrounding Death Eaters all slumped in disappointment. “Perhaps, as the newest in my ranks, and the one who allowed Potter to run in the first place, you should have a go, to prove yourself. Come here.”
Draco looked up at his father, who nodded, once, as if to warn him not to disobey. Licking his lips nervously, Draco stepped closer to Voldemort and Harry.
“Good boy,” Voldemort said. “Now, do you know the torture curse?”
Draco gave a shrug. “I know what it’s called. But I’ve never tried it before.”
“It’s not all that hard,” Voldemort said, encouragingly. “As long as there’s genuine hate behind it. Now tell me, do you hate Harry Potter?”
“Yes,” Draco said.
“Do you want him to hurt?”
“Yes,” Draco repeated, his mouth feeling dry.
Voldemort smiled, a horrifying, toothy thing. “Then you shall have no trouble.” he stepped to the side and gestured, allowing Draco to stand right in front of Harry.
Draco did so, pulling out his wand and trying to stop his arm from shaking.
He met Harry’s eyes for the first time since he was freed from the gravestone. They were, as expected, filled with anger, but also something else…something almost like betrayal.
But Harry had no reason to feel betrayed by Draco. After all, they were never on the same side.
Draco raised his wand directly at Harry Potter. He mustered up all the years of hate and jealousy that he felt for the boy, from seeing his name come out of the Goblet of Fire to back in their first year, when he refused to shake his hand. He thought of how unfair it was that Potter always got everything - house points, the newest broomstick, and the approval of their classmates - while Draco was the eternal outcast, the one that everyone knew but nobody really liked. He thought of how many times, just this year, Harry Potter had butted into his business and tried to sabotage, when Draco was only ever trying to get the recognition he deserved.
“Crucio!” he yelled, and the red jet flew from his wand and struck Harry right in the chest.
Draco waited for Harry to flail and scream as expected…but he didn’t. He simply lied there, still staring up at Draco.
Only now, the green eyes flashed with something different. Something almost like…gratitude.
Why hadn’t the curse worked?
“Pathetic,” Voldemort hissed by his ear. Draco flinched. “Your schoolboy rivalry is not enough to complete the curse. It seems that, maybe, some part of you doesn’t want to see your classmate undergo such pain.”
“That’s not true, I-”
“Quiet!” Voldemort moved forward and Draco took a step back. “You will see him hurt, whether you want it or not. Cru-!”
But before Voldemort could finish the curse, a loud sound overhead made him pause. It was a deep, powerful sound, a roar of some sort, that could only come from something very large.
Draco watched as Voldemort, Harry, and the Death Eaters in front of him all looked to the sky with various expressions of shock appearing on their faces in the forms of dropped jaws and widening eyes. Confused, Draco turned around to see what had them all so surprised.
Draco very nearly fell to his knees at this turn of events.
Flying in the sky, drawing closer and closer, was a giant, elegant dragon with silvery-blue skin and great yellow eyes. It dived down nose-first, resembling Viktor Krum performing a Wronksi Feint, until it landed right beside Draco, causing the circle of Death Eaters to scatter in fear.
The Swedish Short-Snout had returned, and she was currently gazing at Draco dreamily through lidded eyes.
“You!” Draco signed, unable to believe it. “What are you doing here?”
“I smelt your fear from miles away,” she signed back. “Your sweet, delicious fear.”
Voldemort looked shell shocked at the sight before him, his face even paler than usual. He brought his hands up and did some signing of his own. “You know ASL?”
The Swedish Short-Snout gave Voldemort a dirty look before turning back to Draco. “Is this guy bothering you?”
“A little,” Draco signed.
“I know sign too!” Voldemort signed, furiously. “You can’t talk about me, when I understand the language too!”
“Well.” The Short-Snout batted her eyelashes, flirtatiously. “You can take a ride on me, if you like.”
Draco did not like what she was implying at all, but he was also very desperate. “Please, get me out of here.”
The Short-Snout turned around, and Draco wasted no time in climbing on top of her scales.
“You cannot run from me!” Voldemort continued. Draco knew it was not wise to make the Dark Lord angry, but he already was angry, and Draco really just wanted to go home.
“Ready?” she signed above her head so he could see.
“Wait,” he signed, glancing back at Harry Potter who was watching the whole situation in utter bewilderment. Someone clearly didn’t know ASL. Harry noticed Draco watching him, and they locked eyes for several seconds.
No words were exchanged between them. Draco certainly wasn’t about to save Harry Potter, now was he? Especially not in front of the Dark Lord himself. Harry however seemed to take the look on his face as an invitation. Draco wasn’t quite sure that he didn’t mean it as one. Either way, Harry rushed forward to take a seat on the dragon’s back as well, before Voldemort could stop him.
“Now!” Draco signed quickly, and the Swedish Short-Snout took off, soaring up to great heights and leaving Voldemort to sign and scream furiously on the ground beneath them. Draco watched as Voldemort and the surrounding Death Eaters became nothing but small dots as they ascended in the air.
“Woo!” Harry cheered in exhilaration, sounding half-delirious as they flew through the night sky.
Draco couldn’t imagine how he had so much energy, as he was full of nothing but exhaustion.
“Potter, you almost died, why are you so happy?”
“Because I didn’t die!” he responded, though Draco’s words caused a dip in enthusiasm, as shown by his next, bitter words. “Voldemort’s back.”
Draco flinched at the name. “I know, Potter, I was there.”
“He’s just going to try and kill me again,” he continued. “And what about you? You failed to torture me, and then you escaped with me. He’s not going to be happy with you.”
Draco inhaled sharply at this truth. Trying to mask his fear with anger he snapped, “Well, sorry, I didn’t torture you and then leave you to die, Potter! I’ll make sure I do better next time!”
Harry stayed silent for a long moment. “I didn’t mean it like that, I…thank you, Malfoy.”
“What?” Draco asked.
“Thank you,” Harry repeated.
Draco didn’t quite know how to respond to this, so he didn’t, instead turning his head to watch the view as they flew above buildings. He held on to the dragon’s scales tightly, afraid of falling.
After a while of flying in silence, Harry spoke again. “The dragon is taking us to Hogwarts, right?”
“Hogwarts?” Draco scoffed. “Are you kidding? I can’t show my face there, the Polyjuice wore off!”
“Then where are we going?”
“Luxembourg, hopefully,” Draco said.
“So you’re just going to run away?” Harry asked, sounding outraged.
“That was the plan, yes.”
“Why don’t you just own up to what you’ve done for once? You can still fix everything, if you just let everyone go and apologize to them.”
Draco laughed, scathing. “What world do you live in that you think they’ll let me go with just an apology?”
“A world where that’s at least more likely than making it to another country on a dragon’s back.”
Draco frowned hard, but he couldn’t help but face the truth. Potter was right. He had no where to run. He just hoped he would be able to bribe his victims to not tell anyone what he did.
Sighing deeply, Draco tapped on the dragon’s head to draw its attention, before asking it to bring them back to Hogwarts.
They were going home.