Save The Date (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Fifteen

   Draco made short work of undoing the harness to the doggy bat wings, then unpicked some of the stitching on the side. Just as he had hoped, the wings were kept in shape with wire spines, one of which he was able to ease out without too much trouble. Bones looked incomplete now without them rising from his back, but it was hardly the biggest problem they were facing right then, so Draco figured Bones would be okay with it. He bent the wire, crouched down and started working with the two prongs in the keyhole.

"I feel naked," Bones said morosely.

"You look gorgeous," Draco told him in a deadpan voice.

Bones harrumphed, but he also preened a little, and Draco couldn't help but give half a smile at that.

It took a bit longer than Draco would have hoped seeing as they were out in the open with nothing for cover but a lazy Venus fly trap that could only be bothered to snap in their direction occasionally, and even then it only took a tap on the nose to get it to flinch away again. But eventually the lock clicked, and he was able to turn the handle and swing the door inside. "Bingo," he said, using a Muggle saying he'd picked up along the way despite his best efforts.

The door led into a corridor that was dark and draughty, but also thankfully empty. There were no windows, but there were some small, rather ineffective torches on the wall providing a modicum of light, several doors that opened up on the left and right, as well as stairs at the end that headed downwards. "Straight on?" Draco asked with a raised eyebrow. Bones nodded silently.

They crept inside, and tried not to jump when the door slammed behind them. Draco held his breath, waiting for someone to come investigate, but no one did, and he surmised that slams and bangs were probably common in a house like this.

Now they were indoors the temperature had plummeted, and Draco wished he hadn't ditched his frilly morning coat earlier. He shivered and rubbed his arms as they tiptoed forwards, eyes snapping anxiously back and forth between the doors.

Most of them were only ajar by an inch or two, and beyond that the rooms were dark. But some were slightly more open, showing what looked to be stacked up storage boxes and not much else. But then Draco smelt something sharp and tangy, like rust, and his stomach lurched as they slunk past a door which led into what had to be a kitchen.

He couldn't see much beyond the green smoke that wafted from various pots and pans, but the sounds of sizzling meat was clear enough, and Draco risked a closer look at what was poking out of the nearest bubbling saucepan.

It was a human arm.

"Okay," he whispered so quietly it was barely a sound at all, but with extreme alarm nonetheless. "Let's go. Now, now, now!"

Bones' nails scratched too loudly on the stone floor for Draco's liking as they raced the last few steps to the stairs, but he would take speed over stealth if it meant getting away from that gruesome sight.

Halloween Land had seemed quite quaint until that point. Now Draco was ready to get the hell out of there and never, ever look back.

They dashed down the stairs towards what he hoped was the basement, but it took them a twisty-turny rout, their footfalls echoing disturbingly off the walls. They were down in a dank corridor with firmly locked doors either side, metal bars in the doors' small windows suggesting this was some sort of prison. Voices on the other sides wailed and moaned at Draco and Bones' arrival, shuffling near the doors and flinging their bloody and filthy hands out in an attempt to grab at him.

"It's not real, it's not real!" he hissed to himself as they sprinted past.

"I told you!" Bones cried from down at his heels. "It's very real, which is why we need to keep running!"

Draco didn't need telling twice as the metal bars rattled and several things creaked and screeched horribly. He really hoped it wasn't the doors grinding open, but he was too scared to look over his shoulder and find out.

It was so dark he could hardly see now, but there was enough light from the feebly flickering torches that as they turned the corner at a t-junction he could clearly see the figure blocking their path. "Leaving so soon, Your Highness?" the man drawled in a simpering tone.

He was almost seven foot tall and deathly thin, with bulging eyes and a slender moustache on his top lip that could have been drawn on with a single flick of a quill. His suit was black and pinstriped, but it was hard to see below the billowing white apron that covered most of his body.

Well, in the split second Draco registered it, he assumed it had started as white. It was now mostly dripping with thick, red blood.

His hands were covered with fat rubber gloves, and as Draco and Bones skidded almost comically to a halt before him, he raised his left hand in greeting, the large meat cleaver glinting in what little light there was to be had under the house.

Draco's false memories informed him in no uncertain terms, that this was Mayor Abattoir; in all his glory.