Flight

"RUN, DRACO!"

And that’s what he did. Suddenly it mattered so little, whether he was being "treated like a child". He followed Snape’s blunt commands without the slightest flicker of resentment. Suddenly he would’ve given anything to see his pestering mother, to feel her arms close around him in one of her oppressive hugs. He’d never seen Harry Potter in battle before. He’d never known how loudly his "arch-enemy" (though, Hogwarts rivalries seemed so trivial now) could scream, how fast he could run, how hard he could fight. He’d never imagined that such wicked words could pass Harry’s prissy little lips, but now he heard the curses hurtling behind him, and he was scared to death, even with the knowledge that Snape would block them all, that none of these spells would be aimed at him, only at Snape.

His knees were strangely numb and every inch of him was cold. He panicked, thinking he might fall before he reached the gate. Thinking he might be caught and killed, or tortured. He reached the gate, though, and snatched the black iron in his clammy hands, leaning on it for support.

He wanted Snape to hurry up and tell him what to do next. He was much to afraid to ask any of the others for help.

Snape was yelling for the other others to leave. Draco heard Harry shouting a spell, and then suddenly it stopped. All he heard was screaming. He knew it was Potter, but he could not believe it, all the same. He felt horridly sick, without warning, as though he were about to vomit.

"NO!" Snape’s voice roared, and the screaming stopped abruptly. "Have you forgotten your orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord- we are to leave him! Go! Go!"

The brother and sister laughed at Draco and ran out past the gates to Apparate. He refused to look as the enormous Death Eater passed, afraid of being shot at. He thought for a moment that he should follow them and hide in the dark somewhere, but he couldn’t make himself move without his teacher there to assure him. What if he went the wrong way? He couldn’t Apparate legally yet; what if he tore himself limb from limb in the attempt?

Potter and Snape were screaming at each other now. Draco was too afraid to turn back. He just clung to the gates. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe. He tried to picture Hogwarts that morning, light falling through the windows. Sitting in the Slytherin common room with everyone, Pansy’s hand in his. He’d been too concerned to enjoy the scene at the time. In fact, he’d been irritated, nervous, fidgeting so much that Pansy yelled at him. Looking back, though, he wished he was there. Or better yet... he felt blindly through his memories, trying to remember before... showing his mother some stupid trick he’d learned. His father looking incredibly bored and a little disgusted as he read the paper in his usual chair. His mother was pretending to be fascinated, of course, and ever so proud. The livingroom was so polished and... clean.

He liked clean. He wanted it now, but instead everything felt like chaos; bloody, dirty chaos.

Then he heard the hippogriff screeching. Damned bird.

He turned.

Potter was standing up, unbelievably enough.

Snape snatched Draco, tore his frozen fingers from the gates.

Draco clung to Snape’s robes.

He didn’t know what was happening. He was suffocating,

and then they were standing in the dark.

Snape’s breathing was ragged beside him.

Draco blinked, but he couldn’t see a thing.

"Where are-"

A spell choked him.

"Shut up," Snape snapped unnecessarily.

He heard footsteps. Snape was leaving him.

He clawed at the air, trying to find his teacher’s shoulder, arm, hair, anything that he could hold on to so that he wasn’t left behind in this darkness.

"Professor!"Of course, nothing came out. He could feel his throat tightening as his panic heightened. He was too petrified to cry. He hadn’t cried once yet, through this whole ordeal. Not because he was brave, he knew. Not because he was better than Harry Potter, fighting as though he had no life to fear losing. No, he hadn’t cried because he couldn’t cry. No doubt Harry was crying somewhere.

But he’d still won, somehow.

Draco still felt like a failure.

A hand closed on his arm. He choked, as he couldn’t scream, in shock. His throat opened suddenly and he gasped in the cold air.

"Stop fighting it," Snape’s voice hissed. "You’re going to kill yourself."

"I didn’t know where-"

His whine was abruptly cut off as his throat blocked his voice again.

Snape took hold of his wrist and pulled him forward.

His hand was trembling as much as his legs. He prayed that Snape wouldn’t notice. He wanted desperately to know where he was, where they were going, but Snape remained silent. Tears began to slide numbly, soundlessly out of his eyes.

They stopped somewhere and he thought he heard Snape turn back towards him. He searched for the man’s pale face, but even that was not visible through the black curtain that seemed to have fallen over everything.

There was a pause as they stood there.

"I’m not going to leave you, Draco. There’s no need for that."

Draco bit his lip, alarmed that Snape knew he was crying, and wiped angrily at his cheeks with his free hand.

"Good," Snape said curtly. Draco felt the silencing charm released once more. "Now stay quiet or I’ll put it back on, even if you manage to choke yourself to death with it."

"Yes, sir," Draco said quietly.

As they walked on, he began to make out a white skeleton’s hand on his wrist. That would be Snape’s hand. His vision was finally adjusting. His own hand looked much like a baby’s in comparison, tiny and soft and smooth; though easily as pale, at the moment.

He wished his hands weren’t so childish.

He had thought that this year, he’d finally show every one that he was an adult.

But instead, he felt more like a six-year-old than he had in a long time.

He could see Snape’s black figure now, as it was slightly darker than even this darkness. Then there was suddenly a dim light down the hall a ways. Very dim, as though the black air was weighing it down, nearly swallowing it.

A hooded figure strode towards them, a shocked, hollow face looked out at them.

"Did he do it, Snape? Surely not. You saved him, didn’t you? Did you do his bidding for him? Well, I shouldn’t think the Dark Lord will be happy with-"

"I didn’t come here to discuss it with you, Bellatrix," Snape spat.

Draco’s aunt sneered beneath her hood. Draco had never known her well. She’d been in Azkaban most of his life. But he’d always been a little afraid of her, or what he’d heard of her.

She snatched Draco’s chin and lifted his face so that he looked at her.

She peered into his face.

Snape pushed Draco’s head down into a bow easily.

Draco could hear Snape’s twisted smile in his voice.

"I’ll attend to any mind-reading, if you don’t mind, Bella," he hissed.

Draco looked up when his aunts sharp fingers slid from his chin.

She was glaring at Snape. She bowed a contorted, sarcastic bow.

"Yes, my prince."

Snape looked as though he might spit on her, but he didn’t.

"Good bye, Bellatrix."

She glared.

"Shouldn’t I tell the Dark Lord that you are-"

"I think we can make our own introductions, thank you."

Her sneer returned and she flashed what was much more like a grimace than a smile at Snape before turning on her heel and disappearing into the dark.

Snape pulled Draco’s wrist again and they continued into a another dark patch.

"Couldn’t you please tell me where-"

"No. You must do exactly as I tell you, that is all you need to know."

Snape sounded very annoyed. His hand was closed very tightly on Draco’s wrist now, and it was growing colder.

They stopped outside what Draco guessed was an elegant door of some kind.

Snape touched his shoulder, then took his hand back.

Draco looked up at him. Waiting.

"You must stop thinking," Snape said suddenly, severely.

"Sir?"

"You must only think of your fear of him, nothing else. I do not want one thought in your head of Dumbledore, of failure, of Potter, of your mother, of anything except your fear of him, understand?"

Draco blinked, his pulse beginning to pick up speed in his neck.

"Why?"

"I told you to do as I say."

Draco’s mind had floated to Harry Potter, standing up. He was jealous of that strength. He couldn’t help thinking of his failure, of his wand lowering. The thought of hiding, somewhere safe with his family until the danger was gone. He wanted to go backwards, to run away when he had the chance.

Snape hit him, hard.

"I said stop!"

Something foreign leaked into his voice. Panic?

Abruptly, Draco’s mind focused on Snape’s face, straining not to wander.

Snape calmed, breathing angrily through his flared nostrils.

"Think only of your fear. It should not be too difficult. Do not speak unless you are forced to. I will speak as much as possible. You are to concentrate on only that one thing at all times, understand?"

Draco nodded.

"Good."

Snape clutched the back of Draco’s collar, pulling him up straight, and he pushed open the doors.

Heart throbbing, Draco was pulled into the room.

A white claw was all Draco could see of the Dark Lord, as the back of his chair faced them.

Snape pushed Draco’s head into a bow. Head spinning with nerves, Draco obeyed blindly.

He could feel a force before him as the tall figure stepped in front of him. He could feel cold breath, barely breath at all, and waves of something.

Only of your fear, only of your fear, Draco’s mind sang over and over, blocking out all else.

A very quiet laugh trickled like ice water down his spine.

"Is that all there is in that tiny head of yours, boy?"

He felt something touch his skull. A knife-like finger on his hair. Another laugh. He shivered.

"What did Severus tell you, hmm?"

Fear, fear, fear, he thought furiously.

The Dark Lord smiled, Draco thought he felt it in the silence.

"Alright, then, Severus," the Dark Lord laughed. "I’ll play your game." He leaned over Draco.

"Be grateful for your professor’s heart, boy."

His voice was not taunting or amused anymore. It was cold with anger.

He straightened and looked back to Severus.

"I think I know you though," he spoke to Snape.

"Yes," the Dark Lord tipped up Severus’s head, "you’re a clever boy. You don’t trust anyone to do the talking for you, hmm?"

He liked to look into this man’s eyes when he tried to read his mind, though he didn’t need to do so with most.

Snape met his eyes calmly. His mind was blank and waiting.

The Dark Lord smiled.

"Yes. Much too clever to dislike, I think.

"We’ll discuss this your way, Severus," he smiled a bit sarcastically, "so long as you’re grateful."

Snape almost smiled back and the Dark Lord pushed his head softly into a bow once more, still smiling.