Canary Creams and New Yellow Paint - (DRARRY)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

They land roughly at the side of the stream, and the stones to step across are lit up — but there's no one there to greet them.

Draco feels a distinct uneasiness whisper across his skin.

They rush over the water and through the tall, miry grasses, heading towards the wall of stones. But it isn't there.

The shucked husks of rock are still laid in a neat pyramid to the side, but there are no living members of the pod above the surface.

"Down the rabbit hole," Granger mutters.

Draco gets on the ground after her and slides through the hole like it is a chute, his arms crossed over his chest. When he lands at the bottom, he's comforted by the familiar softness of his landing, as if gravity takes a break for a moment whenever they fall through.

That, along with Harry's hand grabbing his, is the last comfort he feels.

Draco lets himself be pulled through the cavern, the growing cries of the Wallygagglers echoing off the walls. He tries to tell himself it's good that they can hear them. If nothing else, it means they're still here, and they're alive, but he recognises the mournful, throaty bellow as a distress call. He feels the emotion of it rise in his throat.

Draco remembers the canaries as they break into a sprint, their sweet twittering to the coal miners. His legs begin to ache as though they've been running for hours, but only minutes seem to pass until light sneaks its way into the tunnel.

Behind him, Scorpius, the last person in their group, has got one finger plugging his ear, and the other ear mashed up against his shoulder. Draco doubts it's doing much to conquer the noise, but he doesn't blame him.

Quite suddenly, their ears fill with muffled hissing, and it sounds as if they're getting farther away from the Wallygagglers, not closer. Draco knows they're moving in the right direction, because the sensation of being underwater strikes him again.

Finally, they make it to the mouth of the cave, and Draco's startled when he bumps into Harry from behind.

The whole group has stopped moving.

Draco readies his wand immediately. He breaks away from Harry and Scorpius and pushes to the front, prepared to see Aurors waiting for them.

Then he hears Lavender whisper, "No," and his heart falls out of his chest.

Oh, Merlin.

Draco forces his way around her, stopping short when he sees the Wallygagglers crowded around a thunderegg, its surface dull and lifeless.

Scorpius tries to peer around his shoulder, and Draco pushes him back, "Don't," but it's too late. He's already seen.

In the crowd of Wallygagglers, there is one noticeable absence. Click is nowhere to be found.

Harry is heedless to the dread holding the rest of them back. He takes one slow step forward, then another. Finally, he stumbles the rest of the way to meet the Wallygagglers and kneels beside the rock, head bowed.

The silence is ear-splitting.

"Leave," a voice growls.

It's Pop. He hobbles forward from behind the hanging basin, trembling with fury.

"We can help," Harry whispers, and it's only due to the Wallygagglers' resolute silence that he can be heard.

"We do not want your help," Pop claims.

"We've got a theory," Scorpius says. "And potions you could try right now. Teddy—"

"We do not want your help."