Untitled Part 1

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"So here's how this is gonna go, Annabeth," He began, slowly raising his free hand and merely placing it upon the side of her hair, running his fingers along each strand, making her slightly flinch but she covered it up by putting on a smile to seem undefeated.

"You're going to tell me exactly where to find Harry and Lucien."

"Not if we don't get what we want in return." She said.

The blonde huffed in frustration as he looked away for a second, however keeping his hand steady. "Yeah right."

But before she could say anything in response, he pressed the wand much tougher against her throat for the third time; he wanted the message to be sent distinctly.

"Now let me just make a thing clear before I leave, yeah?" He leaned closer to her ear as he heard her audible sounds of pain, but that only made him gladder.

"I will get to Harry sooner or later, and I swear on my damn life if I see that Lucien or whoever the fuck had laid much of a finger on him, a weapon that's ten times the size of this," He paused, twisting the wand between his fingers so that it causes more agonising pain. "would certainly be used, and this time, instead of your throat, it'll drive it's way right through both your hearts." He trailed the wand slowly until it reached the left side of her chest as he spoke each word.

And with that, he let go off her.

He of course was not dumb enough to leave the room knowing that she'll follow, so instead...

"What the hell?" She shrieked as she looked at him from inside the room. He had walked out, however her...

She kept smashing her palms across the wide open door but it didn't seem to let her out.

She ran across the room in attempt to get her wand and break the spell that Draco had cast to block any exit,

only to find it broken in half.

The blonde chuckled at his success.

He knew he'd always be one step ahead.

"Now Annabeth, you have no choice but to tell me the location, sweetheart."

—

Harry's POV:

I can't even track time.

Probably a day or two have past and I remain here, held hostage in the same place by the same maniac.

And like I said, the bar is nonexistent to the point where I almost uttered the words 'thank you' once he allowed me get off that crusty chair after what seemed like a decade.

The only thing keeping me going is hope, and I'll hold onto it for as long as I can.

However, I seem to really hate myself for having to do that,

hoping for a rescue.

I've been through a whole lot worse and I know it, but now I just feel...

tired.

And now, as I sit on the ground since that is surprisingly more comfortable, my weary eyes shot up to the sound of the door creaking. I didn't even have to look up; I already knew who it was.