DRARRY SLASH You no like, you no read! Draco/Harry
Draco unlocked the other, disentangling himself from Potter at the same time so as not to end up being dragged down by Potter's full weight. Potter landed and stumbled, while Draco swung back and forth above him. Draco reached up and grasped the chain above the manacle, pulling himself further up to put slack in the chain. He grasped the chain with his manacled hand so that he could unlock it. When it popped open, he let himself tumble to the floor.
Potter caught him, strong arms wrapping themselves around his back and holding him up. For a few moments, he was engulfed in warmth, feeling the material of Potter's cloak against his cheek and the solidness of Potter against him.
"I'm okay," he said weakly.
Potter unclasped his arms and pulled back, lifting up Draco's damaged wrist. The other one was scraped, but the one Potter was inspecting had puncture wounds in it. Gritting his teeth, he turned his wrist over, examining the wounds. The cuff on one wrist had only too obviously had barbs on the inside.
He looked at Potter's wrists where the sleeves of his robe had ridden up, but both were only about as damaged as his other wrist was.
"Why?" he asked, trying to sort out in his head why only one wrist had punctures in it.
He looked more closely and found what he had been fearing was the case: evidence that there had been potion on the barbs, and that whatever it had been was now in Draco's bloodstream.
"Do you know of any potion that is this particular metallic blue colour?" he asked, peering at the residue left around the wounds.
Potter looked at him blankly. Never mind, he'd forgotten just how inept Potter was at anything that had to do with Potions.
He sniffed at his wrist, and underneath the metallic scent of blood was a distinct smell.
"Coriander and lavender," he muttered, leaning forward to lick up a patch of the blue potion. "Vervain. This is not good, Potter. Although, as you said, it could be worse. At least it's not poison."
"What is it?" Potter asked. "Are you sure you should have licked it before you knew what it was?"
"I had my suspicions. It's Linder's Lullaby. It will put me to sleep indefinitely. The antidote is Love's First Kiss, which is notoriously hard to find. I'm going to be asleep in about an hour."
"Love's first kiss?" Potter wrinkled his nose. "How are we supposed to find your true love?"
"Don't be daft, Potter," Draco said with a resigned sigh. "Love's First Kiss is a potion. It's a deep red colour and it smells like cinnamon. It has a very rare ingredient in it, so it is hard to find."
"What's the ingredient?"
"I don't know if you realize this, but I do have access to a phoenix..." Potter replied. "His name is Fawkes."
"Oh. Well maybe I won't be asleep forever after all. It can only be absorbed through very thin skin though," Draco explained. "The reason it's called Love's First Kiss is that it's usually administered to the lips."
"Right. Well, we should continue with our escape attempt then," Potter looked around. "We appear to be in a dungeon cell."
"Way to state the obvious, Potter."
"Sorry, I just wanted us to be on the same page."
"We're certainly in the same dungeon, and that's quite enough for me at the moment, Potter. Now how do we get out of here?"
Draco walked up to the bars that separated them from the wooden door and pushed on them. They were solid iron, as far as he could tell. Potter began walking around their cell, first looking up at the shackles, then pacing back and forth. There was a discoloured tile on the floor, and Potter stepped on it, not even looking down at where he was going.
The bars shimmered and disappeared.
"What?" Potter gasped, stepping forward.
The bars reappeared suddenly, almost seeming to slam back into place. Potter skidded to a halt. The two of the glanced back and forth in between the bars and the tile. Potter stepped backwards, back onto the tile. The bars disappeared. He stepped off them, they reappeared. Potter took off his shoe and put it on the tile. The bars stayed as they were, as solid as they had been before.
Draco came back over and stepped on the tile. Nothing happened.
Draco stepped aside, and went over to where the bars were. Potter stepped on the tile. Glancing back into Potter's determined green eyes, Draco waved his hand through the space where the bars should be. His arm went through just fine. Still watching Potter, he stepped through to the other side, and he was able to pass through.
Potter leapt forward, but within a split second, the bars were back in place.
"Maybe I can't leave," Potter blinked rapidly. "This prison was only meant for me. You can just leave if you want."
"Then why was I also chained up beside you? Why am I even here?" Draco asked slowly.
He could leave. If he wanted to, he could just go, and nothing Potter could do would be able to stop him from abandoning him.
Except that Potter was staring at him, green eyes wide, begging him wordlessly not to go.
Draco looked away, looking around the room he was in. It didn't take him long to find another discoloured tile, this time on his side, imbedded on the wall at knee height. It was a coppery red-brown colour. He stepped forward and put his hand on it. Potter leaned forward in anticipation.
Potter cursed from behind him, and Draco pressed harder, willing it to work. It still did nothing. Frowning, he knelt on the floor, examining the tile. It was the colour of blood. He looked down at his mangled wrist, that was still sticky with clotting blood. He pressed his wrist against the tile, smearing his blood over it.
The bars shimmered and disappeared.
Potter surged forward, running to Draco's side as if his life depended on it. But the bars stayed hidden, and after a minute, they still hadn't reappeared.
"Let's just get out of here," Potter said roughly.
The two of them went cautiously over to the wooden door. There was a rusty metal ring obviously meant to pull it open. Expecting it to be locked, Draco dragged on it and nearly fell when it actually swung open. They stepped into a perpendicular hallway lit up with torches, with one passage that went left and the other right. Right in front of them hung a paper scroll that was backlit by the orange glow of fire.
Congratulations, two young warriors
One of light and one of dark
The both of you are free to go
Should you wish to disembark
Freedom lies in one direction
Nothing here will hold you back
But if you wish to claim them
I have the wands you dearly lack
Right will take you out of danger
But no return once through the doors
Left is where the challenge awaits you
To reclaim what's rightly yours
"Oh hells, no!" Draco groaned, reading the message through again to make sure he understood what was going on. "I don't have time to go on a long quest for wands! I only have about three quarters of an hour left before naptime."
"Do you want to go?" Potter was looking at him seriously. "I'll get both of them if you want to leave."
The offer was tempting. Draco didn't do well when confronted with danger, and retrieving his wand would probably be a deathtrap. He should leave. The message said he could leave, Potter said he could leave and Draco really really wanted to leave.
"Fuck." He walked past Potter and the stupid message and began striding down the lefthand corridor, one that probably led to his ultimate doom.
He shot a challenging look over his shoulder. "Coming, Potter?"
Potter hurried after him, and together they walked towards what Draco thought was likely certain death.