Passed Around Dark Lords

2

Draco inhaled softly as he shot curse after curse, some darker than what they were casting at him, despite the fact that he was low on magical exhaustion (which really was a horrible idea...note to self...do not use dark curses when one is dealing with magical exhaustion). Dark Curses just came easier to him, and furthermore they stumped his opposition, who had not expected him to know...or to use?...or to either know and use these spells against them, which left him some more time. Which was really all he was able to do. Bid time, he already knew that there was no way that he was getting out of this without getting snatched up, but they were not ministry officials, which meant that they were likely poachers or something, if the animal in the dark teen's arms was any indication.

Which...okay, maybe they would not kill him outright, but Draco was almost sure that was worse. Despite that, he knew that his attempts to keep rounding them down was going to come to an end soon enough. He could feel his magic practically deafening him, and his vision was slowly beginning to teeter. Not exactly an amicable situation when one is...well...in the middle of a duel. He felt his eyes drifting closed more frequently, despite that he kept a steady stream of dark curses and hexes flying. They had strong shields, however, and Draco distinctly heard the shattering of one and a sharp pierced scream, but he didn't know who it was, or which one. All he knew was that one moment he was leaning heavily against the tree, and the next he was...not and a ringing sound of voices echoed through his ears.

"You are a talented young Wizard...Draco." The quiet voice hissed. Draco shuddered as the words caressed his ears. "Yes...Quite talented...it is really quite impressive the amount of power you have...so young...yet so advanced. Does your father know of your...propensity towards the Dark Arts?"

"Yes, my Lord." Draco whispered. "Father has been...quite diligent in my studies regarding the subject."

"Has he now." The words were spoken as a statement, and Draco inwardly shivered at that. It meant that the Dark Lord knew more than what he had asked.

"Of...A fashion, My Lord." Draco amended. He still stared towards the floorboards under where he was kneeling, not having the strength to lift his gaze up to the Lord.

"And, pray tell, what was this...fashion..." The Dark Lord loomed over him, Draco could feel his presence...his magic was cloying and sticking to his lungs as he could barely breathe...

Draco screamed his body flying from the bed. He felt a hand on his shoulder, which only served to cause him to jolt away from the hand, a brush against his shields had him slamming his occlumency in place immediately, his eyes wide and wild as he stared about him hastily. His breathing was quick and laboured, his wand clenched tightly in his hands, his body shaking from the sheer level of stress it was dealing with at the moment. His eyes slowly stopped fading in and out as he realized this was not his room, this was not his dorm, and there were no silencing spells along the edges of his space. He felt himself flush in embaressment, despite the fact that he shouldn't. They kidnapped him, and then tried to read his mind nonconsentually, really what worse people were that. Even the Dark Lord asked permission...usually.

"That's enough..." Draco heard a disembodied voice, likely connected to the arm that held him down on the bed. "Queenie, if you would please leave." Draco grit his teeth, but did not try to move, he was too tired to deal with that, and he did need to rest, save his strength for later. He was not entirely stupid.

"It is alright, calm down." Draco's gray eyes locked onto those icy blues of his captor...or rather the person that was keeping him from mauling himself with his nails...so he supposed this could potentially be someone else. He doubted his captor would really care that much, but barring that...Draco was unsure where any of the wizards, or that witch, was that had captured him in the first place, assuming this person was from the same little group as they were. He doubted that he got picked up by other people, but it was possible.