|words and things (recursive) wrote in bandinnabox,|
@ 2007-08-25 18:48:00
3rd fragment for Femme
This doesn't really have a title yet, and it certainly hasn't been beta-ed, but it does have
Warnings: Spoilers for DH, angst
Pairings: none as yet
Rating: R-ish for implied torture and war
#1 here, #2 here
“Draco, do it, or stand aside so one of us…” And then the door burst open once more and it was Professor Snape there, wand in hand, assessing the situation in a moment, his eyes at last finding Draco’s and – just like every time he remembered it – Draco’s mind collapsed in relief. Professor Snape had come and whatever followed now was out of Draco’s hands. There was no choice, at last; no choice to make.
“We've got a problem, Snape. The boy doesn't seem able.”
Draco hadn’t been able to care. Snape would do whatever he did and if he saved the Malfoys then he did. It was out of Draco’s hands. Draco didn’t have to care and he didn’t have to hear.
But he did. Soft. Pleading.
Draco hadn’t looked up but that one word in that tone, pleading and soft, came back to him night after night. He hadn’t seen Dumbledore’s face but he’d known then as he knew now it was pleading and soft, because Draco had been able to speak that was how he would have said it too. Help me.
Then he’d been shoved aside, not that it mattered. And the stones against his back were cold and hard – not that it mattered – as Dumbledore said it again. “Severus. Please.”
Afterwards, he’d heard them tell the story, one after the other. Snape’s fury and Snape’s disgust and Snape blasting Dumbledore out into the night, but the soft and pleading voice in Draco’s head had held him against that stone wall not daring to look and feeling… something else.
Whatever it was had held his tongue like stone in his mouth. Dumbledore was dead, and not by his hand. He would be dead by the morning. The Dark Lord would kill his parents first and make him watch and he would cry and weep and he would plead for his life the way Dumbledore had pleaded for death. It would be useless but he would do it anyway because he was no better than that.
“Out of here, quickly,” Snape had said, his hand roughly on Draco’s neck and dragging him through the door. There was shoving and darkness and being thrust from one place to another and Draco had just gone. Hopelessly. Without a word. Not Professor. Certainly not Severus. Never Please help me.
There had been stumbling turns and angles. One door and another Floo. Greyback snarling something. Here staggering across floorboard and there falling against the wall of a damp stone corridor. The Carrows went for something else. And finally a small room, with a wooden chair and table and a narrow musty bed.
And he’d stumbled again but this time his knees wouldn’t lift him again and as Professor Snape swept towards the door Draco almost wished it would end there. Professor, please. Just kill me quickly.
But Snape had never understood the first thing about him.