The Prophecy of Absconditus

Chapter Ten: The Nightmare Express

An old, rusted train shambled along the tracks. Splotches of rust splashed across the cars from the front to the back in various patterns. Some were large, some small, but all suggested the age and treatment of the machinery. A more sympathetic person might have been bothered by this neglect, but the most emotion it gained from Ron Weasley was fear. This was a bad place.

The land was barren. Cries from the desolate engine went unheard. Ron had been on a train several times in his life, but this was no Hogwarts Express. The cars were filled with crates, small and large like the rust patches. Cloaked figures with hoods draping over their foreheads passed from compartment to compartment. Ron didn't see much of this train. One compartment was his scenery.

Several crates were in this room. He wanted to see what was inside. It felt so important that he did, but there was no way. Their box was in the middle of the train, and a Death Eater opened the door at the back. He saw the next car rock along, heard the wheels scrape across the tracks. Then they were looking at him, waiting for him to speak. What was Ron supposed to say?

Against the opposite wall behind where Ron stood sat twelve people, all bound. Ron wanted to scream. No boxes sat against it because of the people cluttered there. Three Death Eaters held them captive. Besides the Death Eaters, Ron was the only one without binds on his wrists and ankles.

"I don't think he heard you," said one of the Death Eaters. "Perhaps you should make him listen."

"Perhaps you should let us go."

Harry. Ron knew that voice better than he knew his own. He sat fifth from the right, between Blaise Zabini and Draco. His heart stilled, lungs unable to work. Ron wanted to breathe. He tried to suck in the oxygen but it wouldn't come. He tried to exhale, but his throat clogged. Draco shook his head, mouthing the word no. More than anything, Ron wished he knew what was going on.

"I asked if you were willing to trade."

One of the Death Eaters walked to Ron, grabbed him by the chin, and forced their eyes to meet. Ron stared into cold, dark brown eyes. He swallowed.

"Trade what?"

"You know what we want. We know what you want. Your boyfriend for your gift. Do we have a deal?"

"I swear to God, Ron, if you so much as even think about saying yes --"

"Someone shut him up," snapped the first Death Eater. The third, who watched the exchange in silence so far, sent a curse in Harry's direction. A dry sob, Blaise's, followed as soon as Harry's screams started. Ron fought to keep his face straight and unmoved. It was too hard. He wanted to break.

"No," said Ron.

A sharp intake of breath sounded from behind him -- Draco's. How many times had he heard it before, though in so many different situations?

"You want to play that way?" said the Death Eater with the brown eyes. He released Ron's chin and walked over to the hostages. Ripping Blaise up, Brown Eyes threw him over his shoulder and kicked farther open the door that separated train cars. Seconds later, bones crunched beneath the train, and blood splattered across the front of Brown Eyes's robes. One of the younger girls vomited. "That was your warning. Each and every one of these people will go the same way as Mage number one. I'll give you time to think about the consequences of your actions."

"Don't do it, Ron," said Harry. He struggled against his binds. "I swear, I never thought I could hate you, but I just might if you do it. I don't care what they do. They can kill me. Our souls are bound no matter what they do, but they cannot take your gift."

"Shut up," said the first Death Eater.

"I can't do this, Harry."

Ron fell against a stack of crates across from the Death Eaters. Blaise's bones crunching beneath the tracks played in his mind. Bile rumbled in his stomach; tears pricked the corners of his eyes and filled his lower lids. He slid to the floor, crumpled. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Brown Eyes laughing.

"You're stronger than this, Ron," said Draco. "Don't let them beat you. Not yet."

"Not ever. Do not give in to them."

"I'm really getting sick of you," said the first Death Eater, looking like a rabid dog.

He grabbed Harry by the collar, hauled him up, and threw Harry against one of the crates. The wood hit Harry right in the face, but Rabid didn't let up. He shoved the skin farther, grinding Harry against it. Ron's head swam, watching. Some of the kids tied up screamed and protested.

"So this is supposed to be the savior of the wizarding world," said Rabid. He spun Harry around and slammed him against the crates. "You know, the Dark Lord wants you for himself, but I'm willing to suffer torture and death if it means I get to destroy you, because, quite frankly, you annoy the hell out of me."

"Quite frankly, you smell like a wet dog. You're pathetic, you know that? Bribing someone for their gift? You may as well have sunk to the level of kissing his arse. You should be an expert, doing it for Voldemort all the time. For the record he likes chocolate frogs and is still missing the Agrippa card. You give him that and he might hand over his gift."

"You talk too much."

"You don't bathe enough."

Grabbing Harry by a fistful of hair, Rabid ripped his head back and exposed his throat. Pointing his wand at Harry, he said, "Crucio."

"You know I hate that kind of screaming," said the third Death Eater. Brown Eyes sighed.

"Couldn't that have waited?"

"He makes me want to commit homicide," said Rabid, throwing Harry's body to the ground. It landed with a sharp thud, Harry's body twitching and his throat dying as he screamed. Ron clutched to one of the crates behind him, clenching his teeth and eyes shut.

"Why me?" he whispered.

"Because you have something we want," said Brown Eyes. Rabid lifted Cruciatus from Harry, and bent him backward over a crate. The third Death Eater bound Harry to the wood. "I had a best friend once. Terrible thing what happened to him. You see, we were at Hogwarts together, and when I decided to become a Death Eater, he decided not to. Came to an unfortunate end. Found dead in his bed, throat slit. Guess he couldn't take the thought that he made the wrong decision.

"There's still time for you, though. Make the right decision, Ron. Your consent to your gift, and we won't torture your friend."

"I --"

"Ron, you prat --" said Harry, coughing. His body shuddered and he closed his eyes.

"Harry --"

"I'm afraid I can't let you talk to the hostage. It could affect your decision, and we don't want that."

"You're a sadistic fucker, you know that --"

"Crucio," said Rabid. Brown Eyes turned around, glaring at him.

"Not - yet." Turning back, Brown Eyes faced Ron and arched an eyebrow. "Well?"

Ron wanted to say yes more than anything. He couldn't hear himself think over Harry's screaming. All there was in the world were those screams, Harry twitching, and Blaise's bones crunching beneath the train. Raising his hands, Ron covered his face with his fingers, and pulled them away to see slashes of tears. When had he started crying?

Looking to his left, Ron found the soft, familiar face. Draco shook his head, still mouthing the word no. Harry's screams died, replaced by labored breathing.

"Please, Ron," said Harry.

Yes. Yes! YES!

"No."

Brown Eyes's face hardened. Standing, he twisted around to face the cluster of people. It all played out in Ron's head before Brown Eyes ever moved. Brown Eyes walked forward, seized Draco, kicked open the door, and threw him between the trains. Blood splayed and that sickening sound of bones crunching came, but it wasn't enough to hinder a magical train, and so they rolled on.

Except when he approached the people, he grabbed one of the younger kids instead. The effect was almost as bad. This was a third year if Ron's memory served, a Ravenclaw. Only thirteen years old and his life lay in Ron's hands. Saying no was easier when he thought it would be Draco. Draco wanted Ron to reject but this boy . . . What did this boy want?

Above Ron's level of consciousness, Draco's voice flowed through the air, bringing him the only comfort possible. From the harsh rise and fall of syllables, he was in an argument with a Death Eater, but he could argue all his heart desired so long as he stayed alive.

Feet stomped and landed before Ron.

"Yes or no?"

"I can't," said Ron. He tried not to plead. Tears spilled over his cheeks.

"No? Fine then." Brown Eyes crossed the car, kicked open the door, and out went the Ravenclaw. "Not a close friend? Still want to say no?"

"I'm not giving you --" Ron's voice broke off. He gasped to breathe. "No."

"Okay, then. Tristan. Pick another. Sooner or later we're bound to find someone worth a little leverage."

The third Death Eater, Tristan, crossed and grabbed a small, waif girl from the Hufflepuff house -- Eloise Midgen's little sister. She screamed as Tristan carried her across the car and held her above the tracks. Tears soaked the collar of Ron's shirt, and he fell over onto the dirt floor. He placed a sweaty palm against the ground and dirt pasted against his skin. Screams faded, bones crunched.

"So this is what we have for our Mage," said Brown Eyes. He squatted before Ron, looking down at him. "Kind of sad to rely on them, really. I mean, look at what we've got. One's dead, one's dying, one's pathetic, and one," Brown Eyes looked to Draco, "needs to watch his mouth."

Draco smirked.

"I tell things like they are. Potter would, but he's too busy coughing up blood."

Ron raised his eyes from the floor to where Harry lay bound to the crate. His fingers curled around the corners and his chest heaved as he struggled to breathe. With every inhalation, his ribcage rumbled, and he coughed until a trail of blood rushed down the corner of his mouth.

"Harry."

"We told you we'd make you a deal," said Brown Eyes. "Your gift for your boyfriend."

Foresight for -- Harry? They thought that Harry --

"Harry."

"We'll give you Potter. Give us your gift."

"I don't even know how," said Ron, slapping the floor. Dirt whirled into the air.

"He's not giving you anything," said Harry. His voice rasped, and the coughing started again. Harry's knuckles turned white as his torso jerked above the wood. Rabid grinned, trailing the tip of his wand along Harry's torso and stomach as he fought to breathe.

"That is for Ron to decide," said Brown Eyes. "Ron? Have you seen the light?"

"I'm not giving you anything."

Draco's lips hung open and they curled into a lopsided smile.

"You tell them, Ron," said Draco.

Brown Eyes turned on his heels, ripped Draco's head back by his hair, and trained his wand on Draco's throat.

"Keep -- your -- tongue. Osiris?"

Rabid's eyes brightened, stopping his wand's path over Harry's heart.

"Yes?"

"Do it."

Crucio. Just one word and Harry struggled against his binds, screamed until he lost his voice, and there was blood -- more blood than Ron ever thought could come from a person. The internal bleeding was so great; Harry must've ruptured something. Brown Eyes fixed gazes with Ron.

"No."

"No?" said Brown Eyes.

"No."

He never looked. Pointing his wand at Harry, he murmured something that Ron couldn't make out. The effects were impossible to miss. His stomach went first, or so Ron thought, because it all happened so fast that by the time Harry's heart exploded in his chest, he was already dead. Ron fell to his elbows and vomited.

*

Ron choked, struggled, and his eyes snapped open to see a low stone ceiling. There was little else he could see with no light shining into the room. He moved to roll over, but a body blocked his way -- Draco, who had been sleeping by his side since Sunday night. For the four nights before last, Ron slept in peace. Having Draco there made such a surprising difference. Last night, though . . .

He heard the bones crunch beneath the train. Was it a dream or a vision? Ron hoped it would work out to only be a nightmare. Not every dream Ron had as a Seer came true. He once had a dream where one of Ginny's dolls came to life and tried to marry him. If that could be a melting pot of the day's events like most dreams are said to be, then this could be, too. God knew he thought about Death Eaters enough in a day for them to sneak into his dreams.

And Draco . . . in the five nights Draco slept by his side, not once had Ron woken to find him there in the morning. It must be early -- so early that Draco was still asleep, and he woke with the sun. Still, Ron was not going back to sleep. Nothing could make him. He shifted, pulled Draco closer, and closed his eyes. It was a bad idea.

The Death Eaters loomed behind his eyelids. He couldn't remember everything. The sound of bones crunching, blood splattered on robes, vomit, Harry's heart exploding in his chest . . . Ron remembered that. It was the last thing he remembered before he woke up. With the hand that wasn't wrapped around Draco, Ron pounded his pillow. The cases were wet. He had been crying.

"Ron?" said Draco, groggy. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Nothing."

"You don't sound like it's nothin'."

"Well it is, so go back to sleep."

Eyelashes fluttered over blue, blocking Draco's eyes from Ron, and then they blossomed. A soft smile spread across Draco's lips, and he squeezed Ron's wrist.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"It's no big deal. I had a dream."

"What kind of dream? A Seer dream?"

"I hope not."

Draco blinked, reaching to wipe his eyes. Sitting up, he tried to focus his vision, and then wrapped his arms around Ron's waist. He laid his head on Ron's shoulder and nuzzled his nose into the crook of Ron's neck.

"Was it bad?"

"It was really bad."

"What happened?"

"Death Eaters. Train. They -- they killed Harry."

"Who cares? It's only Potter."

"Draco, he's my best mate. I love him like a brother."

"My brother's annoying."

"So's Harry, but I don't want him dead."

"Technically, Potter's your sister."

"Lay off the woman jokes."

"Who's joking?" Ron frowned, furrowed his eyebrows, and stared at Draco. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you just saying that?"

"No." Yes.

Running his fingers over Ron's arms, Draco made a trail from Ron's left shoulder to his wrist with his fingertips. He bit his lip, swallowed, and his fingers shook before sliding into Ron's. Ron's other arm -- the right -- lay across the pillows now and under Draco's head. He dropped his wrist to wrap his fingers around Draco's shoulder, pulling him tight against Ron's chest.

"You smell bad," said Draco. Ron laughed.

"It's dirty down here."

"I know. I smell, too."

"You don't smell that bad."

"Yes I do." Draco laughed, nodding. "Maybe we could get the Death Eaters that way. Get a whole bunch of us together and put us in a confined space with them. The smell would knock them out before we'd have to do anything."

"That sounds like a plan."

"Rise and shine, guys," said Valmont, ripping back the curtains with an oil lamp in hand. Spying Ron and Draco in bed, he smirked and arched an eyebrow. "Well good morning to you. Sorry if I was interrupting anything."

"You weren't interrupting," said Draco, pulling away from Ron. He rolled out of bed and walked to his brother, helping to light candles and lamps. "Nothing happened. Whatever you're thinking in that sadistic little mind of yours should be discarded."

"I'm thinking you were cuddling."

"I couldn't sleep alone and he had a nightmare. We were being resourceful."

"You were cuddling. That's adorable."

"Shut up, Phoenix."

"You shouldn't talk to your big brother like that. It's very rude. What would mother say if she heard you speaking like that to your elders?"

"Applaud me? Don't you have someone else to torture? Snape, maybe?"

"Sev is out crawling along the ground looking for breakfast. I asked for worms but I don't think he's going to honor my request. They're too slimy."

"What is your purpose of being here?"

"I came to wake you up. And to let you know I have an assignment for you. One that does not require cuddling, but you may do so if you feel so inclined."

"I already told you that we were not cuddling."

"Keep lying to yourself, Draco. Maybe one day you'll believe it."

"I'm bright enough to realize that you won't ever see things for the way they are, so I'm just going to quit while I'm ahead."

"What makes you assume you're ahead? You are an arrogant little tosser, you know that?"

"What's the assignment?"

"Bout time you asked. I'm sending you to Hideout C."

"Hideout C?" said Ron, climbing out of bed and taking a lamp from Valmont. "What are we going to do at Hideout C?"

"I just got Rebekah's messenger back. Your friend, Harry, isn't taking to the Prophecy so well. We thought the four of you should get together, and conditions are much more hospitable there. That and I think you should talk to Rebekah about your visions. Tell them what you told me."

"When are we supposed to leave?" said Draco.

"Today. We don't have time to waste. Sev mapped out your course and will be helping you before you go. Rebekah will give you further instructions once you get there. I think your sister is there, Ron." Ron nodded. It would be good to see Ginny again. One less thing he'd have to worry about. "She said there are a few members of the Order there, too."

"Order?" asked Draco.

"I'll explain it to you on the way," said Ron. Valmont grinned and nodded.

"Start packing. I want to send you out after you eat."

"Okay."

Valmont left the room, pulling the curtains behind him. Ron looked to Draco standing on the other side of the room, leaning against the way, and picking at the collar of his silk pajama top. Holding out his hand, Ron said, "Draco. Come here."

Looking up, a hint of a smile fleeted across Draco's features. He sank back to the wall, sighed, and pulled his fingers away from the material. Draco crossed the room, took Ron's hand, and stepped up against Ron's chest.

"Never thought we'd be like this," said Ron. He brushed his fingers over Draco's hair, which hung to his shoulders and looked a fright after sleeping.

"I'm not as surprised as you might think. There was always something between us."

"Loathing?"

"That too." Draco laid his head against Ron's chest, watching Ron's fingers as they wrapped around his own and brought the fingertips to his mouth. "So what is this about an Order?"

"Order of the Phoenix," said Ron, biting on Draco's index finger. "People who fought against You-Know-Who first time around."

"If you can call me Draco, you can call the Dark Lord Voldemort. It's just a name."

"Then why don't Death Eaters use it?"

"Because the Death Eaters fear him just as much as you do. I have nothing to fear. I don't care if he kills me, and there's no one close to me that I would mourn if they died."

"What about your brother?" Draco didn't reply. Ron sighed. "What about me?"

"I don't fear a name. So tell me more about this Order."

"Like I said, people who fought against You-Know-Who first time around. They're grouped to fight against him. These are people who would believe that Dumbledore was gone. That would help us get Hogwarts back. Same people who once upon a time put your father in Azkaban. You know, before the dementors let him out again."

"Right. Back in fifth year."

"When you're friends with Harry, no year is a dull year. Especially when you're prancing around turning into ferrets and singing 'Weasley is our King.'"

The apples of Draco's cheeks flushed a bright pink and he hid his face in Ron's chest.

"Since when do I prance?"

"You've always pranced."

Ron kissed the inside of Draco's wrist, pushing the sleeve to the crook of his elbow. Blood pulsated through Draco's veins, and Ron tried to feel each beat with the caverns of his mouth. His tongue trailed along the vein line, working his way up Draco's arm. Breath hitched, first from Draco, then from Ron, and Draco angled his head down when Ron stopped his work.

Ron's eyes were drawn to a spot just below his elbow on the right arm, and Draco swallowed. Fingertips rubbed over the area where he knew the marring would be.

"It's not the Dark Mark," said Draco.

"I know. I've seen the Dark Mark. It's missing the snake." Draco nodded. "So what is it?"

"Death Eater thing."

Eyes locked.

"Tell me."

Crossing the room, Draco pulled out his bag and started packing. Without folding anything, Draco shoved things into his bag. Ron frowned, took a deep breath, and put his arms around Draco's shoulders, kissing his earlobe. Draco tensed in Ron's arms, breathing hard, and tried to pull away.

"Let me go."

"No. Tell me."

"You're going to hate me."

"No, I won't."

"You don't know that."

"Try me."

Draco turned, caught Ron's eyes with certain defiance, and shrugged.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." Ron nodded. "When you pledge to become a Death Eater, you have to go through a year-long training session. You learn curses, dueling -- anything you can think of. There are tests, too, the biggest one being that you stick around long enough to take your Dark Mark. You fail a test and they kill you.

"Upon pledging, they brand you with this," said Draco, shoving his arm at Ron. "It's a sign that you promise to abide by their rules until you're officially a Death Eater. If you drop out of training and the time for a year passes without taking the Dark Mark, this is supposed to go away. You're no longer a part of them. But their memories are long and they remember anyone who crosses them. Voldemort always remembers.

"Before you can take your Mark, you need to master the Unforgivable Curses. Imperius is the first, then Cruciatus, and Avada Kedavra.

"I started my training the summer before fifth year. I was okay at first. I thought it was what I wanted. That I could take it. Then I started getting more involved in it. I went to my first meeting and it scared me. I visited their headquarters. It looks so normal at first. It's just this normal, old house. But their lanterns are skulls. They have a fountain that doesn't pump water; it pumps blood. I was horrified, but I could take that. I've seen a lot of horrific things in my time thanks to my father."

"Blood?" said Ron.

"Not just any blood. My father told me that the blood is the blood of innocent children."

"That's disgusting."

"Glad someone thinks so."

Ron tried to offer some kind of comfort but Draco pulled away. He walked to the door, leaned against the jamb, and stared at Ron.

"I was so angry when my father went to Azkaban. I didn't want him there. I wanted him with me, so he could see what it was doing to me. I wanted him to realize that I wasn't like him. Make no mistakes, ruled by my mother or not, my father enjoyed what he did."

"I'm not following you. You were training to be a Death Eater."

"Malfoy Manor is on a hill in Wiltshire and just below it is Malfoy City."

"Malfoy City?"

"Yes, Malfoy City. We have no basis in it but one of our ancestors founded the City. For a large part, my father ignores them. We don't know what's going down there and we don't want to. A bunch of Muggles live in a city bearing our name. Why would we want to? But when I was little, my father took me down there sometimes. On one of these trips, I made friends with a girl named Leanne Carey.

"I told you before that you need to perform the Unforgivable Curses to receive your Dark Mark. To do that, we practice on humans. One of the elder Death Eaters picks your test subject and when it's time to practice, they're always there. I was barely at school fifth year thanks to my training sessions. Part of the reason I joined Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad was so that she'd think I was on her side. I couldn't have that evil bitch watching my every step. No one could know I spent my weekends practicing Dark Arts curses.

"My father picked Leanne as my test subject. He remembered us being friends, and decided to show me what happens when you make friends with a Muggle. They like it when it's someone you know. Makes it more personal." Draco scratched at the mark on his arm. "It was June. Still two months before I was supposed to pass this test. I had just been able to control my energy enough to do Cruciatus and I hated it. I didn't want to be a Death Eater anymore, and it was time to practice Avada Kedavra.

"I was so angry that day. I was angry at my father for making me do this. I was angry at the world for existing. And I was so damn angry at Leanne for ever talking to me because of what I was going to have to do to her. I killed her."

Ron bit his bottom lip and leaned back against the wall. His legs shook beneath his body, and he dropped to one of the mattresses before his legs gave out. Draco eyed him.

"When a year passed, my Mark wouldn't go away. It's supposed to be a sign of what I've done. There's no real way to counter it that I know of. After that -- well, my father went to Azkaban and I was angry because I wanted him to know what living with the grief did to me. I hated my mother for encouraging this. I felt so angry all the time. Even when my father came back out of Azkaban thanks to the dementors and he had to move around so the Ministry couldn't track him. All he cared about was him. He never saw what it did to me. But I loved him. I hate that he's gone."

"I don't hate you," said Ron. "I don't know how I feel about this, but I don't hate you."

"If you tell me you pity me, I'm saying that's worse."

"I don't know how I feel. I don't think I'm entirely comfortable with this."

"Of course you aren't. You aren't the kind of person who grows up around murder. Murder's a family reunion game for me."

"Don't be like this."

"Don't be like what?"

"I don't know. Bitter. Don't be mad at me."

Draco sighed. "If you think I'm mad at you, you really are an idiot."

"Don't call me an idiot."

Crossing his arms, Draco stared at Ron. His lips stretched into a straight line, unmoved, and then Draco grabbed his bag from the floor. Throwing it over his shoulder, he stared at Ron for a second longer, and turned to leave.

"Please don't walk away from this -- from me."

"Weasley . . . I don't get you."

"What's there to get?"

"This isn't like you. I killed someone. Don't you get that?"

"Did you get enjoyment out of it?"

"No."

"Do you want to do it again?"

"No."

"Then why should I hate you? I mean -- I don't like it. I hate it. But not you. Only if you wanted to -- liked it. Saw what the thrill was."

"But you aren't comfortable with it."

"Am I supposed to be?"

Draco angled his head toward the floor and shrugged. His hair fell across his eyes, catching in his eyelashes, and he took a deep breath.

"No. You aren't."

"I'm sorry, Draco. Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you. I just --"

"I know."

"How do you know? You know everything about me lately."

"Not everything, but I'm learning."

A small smirk spread across Draco's lips as he laughed. He motioned toward the doorway with his head.

"You reckon we should go see Snape about where we're heading? Phoenix might check in on us and think we started cuddling again, or give us a speech about how we should respect his authority. You know, when Phoenix says jump, the entire wizarding world should give a giant leap. Arrogant, that brother of mine."

"Think so?"

"Know so. Guys so bent on his prodigy status that he doesn't realize most people his age have caught up to him and that he was only a true genius until he was seventeen. Not to say he can't do really fancy things with his wand, but still . . . He makes up his own spells, you know. They usually require doing some strange sort of acrobatics."

"Seems composed when I'm around."

"You've never seen him eat lip gloss yet. Once that starts, there's no stopping the madness."

"Lip gloss?"

"He loves the stuff. Puts it on his lips and then licks it off. He can polish off a tube in two hours if he's really trying. Used to drive Father crazy."

"Guess we better go then. Don't want to be around when the madness starts."

"To be fair, I think lip gloss is a delicacy he can't afford. Still, there is the very free respect speech he loves to give so much."

Ron grinned, grabbed his bag, and threw things inside. He fastened it shut once packed and walked to the doorway. As Ron passed out of the room, Draco slid his hand up the back of Ron's shirt and let his fingers graze over the small of Ron's back. The pad of his thumb rubbed across the flesh in small circles as they walked toward the classroom to meet Snape.

They approached the room, curtain hanging limp from the thin wooden plank that supported it. Thrown aside, it revealed a third of the doorway, and through the gap, Ron saw Snape moving around the room. He cast a look to Draco, reached behind his back, and brushed his fingertips over the back of Draco's hand. Swallowing, Draco pulled his hand away and stepped forward to rip the curtain all the way back. Draco leaned against the jamb and cleared his throat.

"Phoenix said you mapped out our course."

Snape turned, glanced at Draco, Ron, and made an inclination with his head. Pulling open a drawer on a rickety, timeworn desk, Snape littered the top with yellowed parchments. Spidery threads of ink covered the pages in varying degrees of fading.

"You'll be going to Hideout C," said Snape. "I'm afraid that you'll be seeing Mr. Daubert again, but Mr. Smith was so appalled by the conditions here that I'm sure your conditions will be much better. This trip of yours should take a few days if you do not slack off. Remain as hidden as possible and stick to the route I've delineated on the map."

"How are we supposed to eat?" said Ron. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Here is the map," said Snape, handing it to Draco. "Phoenix thought we should put an enchantment on it for the path in the chance a Death Eater were to come across it, but you would need to use your wand for something like that --"

"And no magic is allowed in Hideout B," said Draco. "In other words, be careful to the point of paranoia until we're in a more populated area."

"That is the gist of it," said Snape, frowning. "This is not a game, Draco. This is a matter of --"

"Life and death?"

"Our necks or theirs. If they find our path, two of our Hideouts can be obliterated."

"We'll be careful."

"I know you will. You don't have a choice. As for places to eat, Draco, I believe you know Phoenix's version of the Revealing Charm."

"I am not doing Phoenix's version of any charm."

"We cannot use the common version. Any first year could tap into the information on this map. With Phoenix's version --"

"I'm going to have to jump up and down on one leg and sing nursery rhymes."

"Draco, it would do you good to stop interrupting." Draco sighed, dropping the map to his side and shoving it into his pocket. "If you use Phoenix's version of the charm, the map will show you where members of the Order are stationed to provide room and board for our messengers. If you refuse, you're on your own."

"You're using that charm," said Ron. Draco pretended not to hear him, but his jaw tightened as he glared at Snape.

"Guess we'll be off, then. Wish us luck."

"You won't disappoint us," said Snape.

"No."

Draco fumbled with the right strap of his bag, hiked it higher on his back, and stared at a point just over Snape's shoulder. He opened his mouth, tongue stilling just behind his lower lip, and he closed his mouth again. Shaking his head, Draco turned and pushed past Ron on his way out.

"Mr. Weasley, keep an eye on him," said Snape as Ron turned to go. He spun around again.

"Do you think --"

"I think he just lost his father. I don't know what he's told you, but Draco is not what people expect of him. He was once. Some things don't feel the way you expect them to, though. Some things set you straight. But when you've been down a path once . . ."

"I don't think he'd go back."

"I don't think so, either, but Bade Mizar was not a saint. He hated his mother because she was indifferent to him. Bade was notorious for pushing people because he needed a reaction from someone. Not much changed when Draco Malfoy was born. Keep that in mind."

Ron nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure what Snape was talking about. Wasn't Narcissa Malfoy the one who made Draco go to Hogwarts so that he wasn't so far away? Didn't Lucius and Narcissa spoil Draco to all ends? He turned from the room and headed into the dark corridor. People started to wake and milled in and out of the darkness as they went about their morning procedures. Draco stood at the end of the corridor where it met with the meeting room, swallowing a bowl of porridge (with some sort of blue colored berry).

"What did Snape say to you about me?"

"Nothing. Just something about -- er -- I think being here for you."

"You don't have to do anything."

"What if I want to? You should know that Snape isn't the first person I would do a favor for."

"You wouldn't want to."

"Why not?"

"Because I know what kind of person you are."

Ron fell silent, his lips slightly pursed as he stared hard at Draco. He narrowed his eyes, cocked his head to the side, and let his jaw fall open.

"And what kind of person am I?"

"Not the kind of person who wants to be around someone like me. I'm way out of your league, Ron. You're way out of mine. Let's not try to cross paths."

"Why are you so goddamn determined to cause a fight with me?"

"You're asking me like this is a new development."

"I'm not going to fight with you."

"You already are."

Ron brushed past Draco to fill a bowl with porridge, which he shoved into his mouth one heaping spoonful at a time. His stomach ached by the time he finished; this was often the effect of eating too fast, especially when Ron was already upset about something. Shoving the bowl away, he grabbed his bag and headed for the exit, never looking to see if Draco bothered coming.

It was like waking in the middle of the night, going down into the common room, and finding it still alive with Hogwarts students. Sounds were too loud; light was too bright. Ron didn't remember the sun ever hurting his eyes this much.

"From being underground for seven days. We'll get used to it."

Ron shielded his eyes with his left hand and turned toward Draco.

"Let's get going, then."

Squinting, Draco pulled the map out of his pocket and smoothed it out across his thigh. A pale index finger trailed the marked path and Draco looked around their surroundings.

"This way."

They headed south, leaving the shelter of Hideout B behind them.