Clean

The Deadline

Chapter 25: The Deadline

"Malfoy."

Draco inclined his head at the oncoming form of Gregory Goyle but did not slow down.

"Malfoy," Goyle grunted, reaching him and attempting to corner him menacingly. "I'm talking to you."

Draco rolled his eyes but raised his hands in mock surrender. "So I see," he noted with amusement.

"It's been a bit since me an' Crabbe have seen you," Goyle snarled suspiciously. "Not thinking of shirking the Dark Lord now, are you – "

"Goyle, are you totally brainless?" Draco hissed, yanking him to the side. "I mean you are, obviously, but still – "

"It'll be your head on the block, Malfoy," Goyle said brusquely. "Not mine, not Crabbe's – "

"I'm familiar with the parties involved," Draco said smoothly, brushing some nonexistent dust off his robes for emphasis. "I hardly thought my head was any of your concern, Greg."

"Just because we ain't the mates we used to be don't change the fact we've still got a job to do," Goyle sniffed.

Draco tried not to laugh. In the elaborate game of wizard chess that was to be the murder of Albus Dumbledore, Draco had clearly overlooked the pawns.

"Consider yourself dismissed," he said curtly. "I can handle it from here."

Goyle looked at him with confusion – though it was difficult to distinguish the change from his resting facial expression. "What d'you mean you can handle it?" he asked slowly, stitching his thick brows together.

Draco shrugged cheerfully. "Tell Crabbe I've got it covered, would you?" he said, clapping Goyle's shoulder. "Appreciate it."

He turned to leave, narrowly avoiding Goyle's outstretched hand as he reached for Draco's arm, attempting to pull him back.

"Malfoy," Goyle called loudly, and Draco barely spared a moment to look at him with impatience before continuing down the hall. "Better not fuck it all up, you prat – "

"Trouble in paradise?"

Theo was leaning casually against the wall at the end of the hallway, observing Draco as he sauntered away from his disgruntled lackey.

"Nott," Draco said, nodding. "Your timing is impeccable, as always."

"Obviously," Theo replied with a grin. "Having some trouble with the troops?"

"You know, I'm not much of a general," Draco said, grimacing.

"Of course not," Theo agreed, throwing an arm over Draco's shoulders. "But why bother, really, when you're doing so well as a self-destructive lone operative?"

"Your faith in me is overwhelming," Draco muttered.

"Oh, you don't know the half," Theo said musically. He let his long stride fall in with Draco's and the two carried on in an unburdened silence.

"So you told Granger about the slipper incident," Draco said, his voice wavering.

"And you told her about the glasses," Theo remarked, unfazed.

Draco paused mid-stride. "Why?" he asked simply, eyeing Theo carefully.

Theo turned to face him, his expression vaguely amused. "Don't you think I could ask you the same thing?"

Draco considered him for a moment.

Much had happened to Draco over the last year, and he had internalized nearly all of it. For every blow he'd taken, he'd done so quietly, locking away the feelings of disappointment in his father, the guilt he felt as a result of his actions, and the growing anger at his past decisions. Theo had observed it all and said nothing, taking Draco's lead, and Draco was indebted to him for it.