Living Death

- chapter forty four

The conflict was considerably lighter up on the sixth floor, relatively untouched for the time being but you knew it was temporary, hearing the distant cries and crashes from the battle below. Draco looked at you, knowing this would be where you'd leave him again.

His arms wrapped around your waist firmly as he pressed his lips to yours with a feverish need, as though it would spur him to continue even when you weren't by his side.

The unmistakable growl of Fenrir Greyback, the werewolf that wore Deatheater robes in return for his hired savagery, brought you back to your senses, you could hear him taking the stairs and thought of the gash that scarred Bill Weasley's face.

"Go-" Draco whispered suddenly, shoving you slightly with an urgency to his tone, "Go! I'll handle him". Greyback believed Draco to be like his father, desperate to show his devotion and allegiance to The Dark Lord but Greyback's barbarity knew no bounds.

You ascended the staircase up to the next floor but froze in your stride, gripping the stone bannister firmly upon hearing Fenrir's sickening growl of a voice interrogating Draco from below. You ducked down to peer through the gaps in the stone, hoping nothing bad would come of their interaction.

"Y/N- Where is she? She has yet to bring the boy to The Dark Lord as instructed" Fenrir snarled, clutching his wand tight in his unforgiving grip, two snatchers in his wake.

"I don't know, I came up here to try and find her myself" Draco insisted, putting his wand away in his inner blazer pocket to appear less of a threat.

"Liar!" You heard Grayback roar and clutched your wand harder, praying you wouldn't have to use it, "I saw you with her just now!"

"I came up here to find Potter, to summon The Dark Lord myself, I thought I saw him disappear into one of the classroom's down here, I didn't want her to find him before me" Draco spoke with disgust to his voice, the kind of tone he used to use during his school days, "That's why I'm no longer by her side"

Greyback showed no signs of backing down, but fell relatively quiet, puzzled by Draco's story, taking a step forward to interrogate him further.

"If we both work to find Potter instead of her, The Dark Lord may honour you with your own mark" Draco added, his hands raised a little in surrender, trying to persuade Grayback to back off, "You heard him, didn't you? Those who bring him Harry Potter will be rewarded" His tone had that same air of persuasion his father had to his voice.

The werewolf seemed intrigued by the idea and seemed to argue no further. He might have been permitted to wear Deatheater robes, but only Voldemort's inner circle bore the mark. Greyback himself had not yet been granted the honour, but his scornful face highlighted his desire to be accepted as equal to the Deatheaters he served alongside.

Anyone with any sense knew no matter what Greyback did, Voldemort would never see him as equal to the pureblooded human Deatheaters.

Greyback was simply a weapon of mass destruction, always at his disposal, but if Draco could lead him on with the pretence of being branded with the mark, then he would give up on hunting you and turn his attention to obtaining Harry himself.

Once you were positively certain Draco had calmed Fenrir's rage, you descended silently up the staircase to the next floor, wand clutched in your fist, the image of Rowena's statue and the delicately carved diadem that lay on her head, etched firmly in your mind.

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The Room of Requirement lay abandoned once again, the tapestry that used to cover it was absent and instead before it stood a familiar short, dark-haired male. You ran forward suddenly with an urgency, and he turned to look at you with a look of relief in his expression.