The Price of Light | drarry

five | the embers

April 2002

Harry spends a while torn between ripping Malfoy's head off with his bare hands or just crashing his way out of the forest and leaving him alone, until he realises both are futile.

He's convinced that any second now - surely, any second - Malfoy will cave and lead him out of the woods, but he doesn't. Maybe he really doesn't know how to leave, Harry thinks, and his blood runs cold in his veins. He only walked for twenty minutes to get where he is now, but Harry knows he'd have no chance trying to escape by himself now. He doesn't even know which way he came from any more, and every step in the wrong direction could be a step away from survival.

"You're a bloody psycho, you know that?" he seethes, and Malfoy only smiles.

"And you're a wet blanket," he responds.

"Are you really going to keep me here?"

"I'm not detaining you myself," Malfoy shrugs. "I'd rather not touch you again. So no, Potter, be my guest. Au revoir."

"Ha, ha," Harry mutters sarcastically. "This is bloody ridiculous."

He wishes more than anything that he took on Arthur Weasley's passion for Muggle items more seriously years ago. A mobile phone would certainly come in more than useful right now.

He wonders what time it is. It must be approaching dinner, and he's skipped lunch by now. There's a growing hunger in the pit of his stomach, which reveals itself with a low growl that makes his cheeks flush.

Malfoy laughs. "You need food?"

"No," Harry lies stubbornly. He crosses his arms over his flat stomach as if to hide it. "I don't want whatever rat shit you've been living off while you've been here."

"I've been living quite well, Potter, thank you very much," Malfoy shoots back. As if to demonstrate, he reaches into his robe pocket for a small handful of nuts which Harry realises are acorns, and he chucks a couple into his open mouth.

"Oh, yeah, a life of luxury," Harry says scornfully as Malfoy chews. "Those'll give you a lovely stomach ache."

"Not if you soak them to remove the tannins," Malfoy frowns. "I eat them with berries too sometimes; I know which are safe to eat."

"What a feast."

Malfoy looks at him, a hard glare which makes Harry feel very vulnerable all of a sudden.

"I wasn't joking when I said we aren't leaving the forest, you tosser," he says slowly, pushing his blonde hair back and out of his eyes. "I could probably find the way out at a push, but then who would I bump into outside except one of your lovely fellow clowns from the clown station?"

"There aren't that many Aurors patrolling around here," Harry protests, but he knows there's truth in Malfoy's words.

With Lucius dead, Draco is now the most wanted Dark wizard on the planet, and will probably soon be adopted by his father's followers as the new face of the Revolution, whether he shows his face or not.

The minute he's seen in public, he'd be lucky to be arrested. Because the alternative is far, far worse. Harry knows that. Draco would be ripped apart where he stood by the public; he wouldn't stand a chance.