He shivered. 'My head? Rotten. Where are we?'
'I'm not sure.'
'How did we get here?'
Draco replied with a shrug.
Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, and felt something sticky on his chest. He glanced down and saw that the sleeve of his white shirt was bloody — mostly dried, stiff blood, but some new.
Either we haven't been here that long, he calculated, or I'm still bleeding. He pulled his sleeve up, saw the long cut along the side of his arm, oozing dark blood, and winced.
As if triggered by the sight of his own blood, memory began to come back to him, and with it, fear. He looked up at Draco. 'Hermione,' he said. 'Ron — and Ginny. Are they — '
Draco looked away. 'I don't know.' Avoiding Harry's gaze, he stood up. His bare feet made no noise on the blue stone floor as he crossed the room, running his hand along the wall — looking for gaps or chinks, Harry imagined. He was reminded of a cat, curiously prowling the borders of new territory.
Maybe you don't know, Harry thought at him. But what do you think?
Draco didn't turn around, but kept moving towards the opposite side of the room. Hermione's all right, he said. I feel it. I think Ron and Ginny are all right as well. Draco turned around, looked at him.
But I can't promise you anything.
I know. Harry couldn't have said why, but he felt that Draco was correct. Hermione was all right. Perhaps his mind was just telling him that because otherwise he might not be able to function, but he didn't think so. Malfoy — what about Charlie?
Draco paused in front of the wardrobe, his shoulders tensing.
Wincing a little from the ache in his back, Harry walked over to stand next to him. 'Was it my imagination,' he said to the back of Draco's head, 'or were Charlie and Slytherin working together? As a team?'
Draco turned around and looked at him. 'Yep,' he agreed. There was finality in his calm gray eyes. 'I practically expected them to go into a planning huddle.'
'But that's just not possible,' Harry argued. 'Charlie wouldn't do that.'
'I agree.' Draco turned towards the wardrobe, jerked the doors open, looked inside. There seemed to be piles of dark cloth in there, as well as some glittering objects that might be jewelry. Draco began poking at them with an experimental finger. 'I don't think that was Charlie.' His voice, a little muffled, reached Harry's ears clearly.
Harry blinked. 'Not Charlie?'
'Not Charlie,' said Draco firmly, and then he gave a little shout of surprise or amazement, and exclaimed, 'Potter. You've got to see this.' He retracted his head from the wardrobe, grinning with sly amusement. 'Look at this. Somebody left you a present,' he said, and he held out something that flashed red and silver in the blueish light of the room.
Harry stared in amazement. It was a sword — Godric Gryffindor's sword to be precise, looking just as he remembered it — perhaps a little smaller, but that was because he himself had grown. He reached out and took it out of Draco's hand, running his own fingers over the smooth blade, the rubies in the hilt that formed the shape of a crouching lion.
'Why would he leave me this?' he wondered out loud.
'No idea. But I'll tell you one thing, this place is a lot nicer than I was expecting. Usually, your standard-issue dungeon is pretty grotty. Slime, worms, the howling screams of some poor bastard being tortured in the cell next to yours…' Draco shrugged. 'The worst thing we seem to have to contend with here is the somewhat monochromatic color scheme. That, and the lack of food.'
Harry, who had been growing increasingly aware of the rumbling in his stomach, was dismayed. 'There's no food?'
Draco shook his head. 'Not that I saw. And I've been over this room a few times.'
Harry sighed. 'I guess I wouldn't have trusted any food he provided for us anyway.' Holding the sword carefully, he walked to the side of the room and threw himself down on a bench there to study it. A moment later Draco joined him, carrying his own sword. 'Hey, Potter. I found a Scrumdidilyumptious Chocolate Bar in my pocket.
You want half?'
'Sure,' replied Harry morosely. 'Why not.' He took half, and looked sideways at Draco, who was engaged in eating his portion of the candy. 'I would have thought your busy little mind would've been ticking over possible escape plans by now.'
Draco swallowed, and made a face. 'Urgh. Lint. Look, Potter, there's no way out of this room.'
'How can you be so sure?'
'Well, there are no doors and windows, no secret passageways, no breaks in the stone anywhere, and on top of that-'
'I thought you were Cunning Plan Guy! What happened to Cunning Plan Guy?'
'I didn't say I hadn't come up with a plan. I have come up with a plan. I just don't think you'll like it.'
'I might like it,' said Harry, around a mouthful of chocolate.
'No,' said Draco, 'you really won't like it.'
'Just because I'm a Gryffindor!' Harry said disgustedly. 'It's not like I can't appreciate cunning plans, Malfoy. Haven't I gone along with at least six of your harebrained schemes already? Haven't I been there for you, taken your side — '
Draco grinned hugely. 'This is turning into quite an ode to our relationship, Potter,' he said. 'Keep it up. I'm feeling all tingly.'
