A Wonderful Fortuitous Love

57. Persistence and Numbness

Draco’s hands were bound securely behind his back. His wand was being thrown carelessly up and down in the air by a tall and thin Death Eater to his right. When he did not walk fast enough someone behind him would shove or kick him hard in the back so that he stumbled. He never gave them the satisfaction of making any complains because he knew that was what they really wanted – to hear the rich boy whine at their mercy. Theodore was the one holding Draco’s left arm, leading the way up a dirt road through some kind of forest. His grip was not tight, but almost casual, like he was escorting him to a ball. Draco understood that this was because there were enough of them to take him out if he tried escaping, and even if he broke free there was nowhere to go (he had no bloody idea where they were), and there was no means of protecting himself against six Death Eaters anyway.

After an impossibly long time, the trees began to fan out enough so that a building of sorts surrounded by a high picked fence came into view.

The Death Eater who was tossing Draco’s wand stuffed it in his robes and pulled out his own. He walked to the gate that was at least twice his size and waved his wand over the lock in a circular motion until a light click was heard and the gate opened rigidly with a high-pitched creak.

Theodore lead Draco through first, the others closely following. Ahead he saw the same dirt road twisting up to a manor that was slightly smaller than his own, splitting into two around the disfigured statue of a man (or was it a woman?) that obscured where the font doors no doubt were. Although they were a decent distance from the actual house, Draco could see from where he was that the place was unkempt, and up until recently deserted. Surrounding the manor was a garden that surely must have been beautiful once was overgrown with so many weeds and dead plants that it was indistinct what plants used to grow there. The walls had vines creeping up them and growing on the few spots that weren’t hidden by vines was mould, colouring the walls so much that the house looked a dark green rather than whatever colour it originally was.

He felt he should know this place, but no matter how hard he thought about it he could not figure out why. But it had an air of familiarity about it. He looked sideways at Nott, expecting to see a smug expression, but his face was blank. No arrogance or hardness to it at all, and like that, Draco could almost see the kid he sat with in the Great Hall – just barely, of course, but it was there.

Perhaps Theodore sensed his gaze, he was always good like that, because his dark eyes met Draco’s. His face did not twist into a sneer, but remained blank except for the twitch of his jaw. He was the first to break eye contact, and moved on to the mouldy doors ahead.

Draco arranged his own face into a mask of indifference, but it could not hide his inner disappointment. He remembered in sixth year, when he was not listening to Flitwick or McGonagall because he was so tired with his mission to kill Dumbledore, and when he was unexpectedly called on to see whether he was paying attention, which he obviously was not, he would look over at Theodore beside him and they would share this quick and discreet exchange where he would whisper the answer. 

But everything had changed now, and he really needed to get over that his best friend was not miraculously coming back.

Nott tapped twice on the door and turned the rusty knob. Inside was no better than out. More mould lined the walls, ceilings and floor. As they stepped inside on the stained carpet (at least he thought it was carpet) dust floated up from where their shoes connected with the floor. Furniture was covered in plastic that was so dusty there was no hope telling what was beneath it other than the shape. There was a staircase to the right with railings that had long since rotted, or maybe had been burnt.

They made their way deeper into the house, bugs scattering from under furniture as they went, the floor feeling alarmingly unsteady under his feet; proof of this was the holes they all had to evade. They followed a dark stain down a hallway that started out as faded but grew larger and larger as though something had leaked, and the more it thickened, the more a distinct smell filled his nostrils that sincerely reminded him of blood.