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The Devil You Know	By : JBankai89 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 2281 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, I gain nothing from this but a way to pass the time.

Chapter List
- 1-Taken
- 2-Hostage
- 3-Survival
- 4-Home
- 5-Aftermath
- 6-Suspicions
- 7-Confessions
- 8-Recovery
- 9-Verdict
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter Three – Survival

The soft chirping of songbirds woke Draco that morning. The peaceful nature in which he woke lasted mere seconds before he became acutely aware of the fact that he was both naked, and being embraced by someone from behind.

He jumped a little, for Draco had never before woken up with someone before—at least, not like that—and he whipped around to see Harry, fast asleep next to him. Slowly, he relaxed as he took in the comforting sight of Harry's still, peaceful form.

There was a cut on Harry's forehead, not to be confused with his famous scar. This one was new, scuffed, and encircled with purple bruising. The left frame of his glasses was cracked, but still in place, and his lips were slightly chapped from their lack of recent access to food and water.

The sight of him slowly brought back all of Draco's bad memories of the night before, and his eyes dropped to his own wrists. They were flushed a deep red and purple, showing how tight the bonds had been.

Draco returned his gaze to Harry, and felt a swell of affection towards him. Of course, this was technically all his fault, but he couldn't help feeling grateful that he was not alone out here.

Harry began to stir as Draco observed him, and blinked bemusedly as he slowly woke up, before he smiled up at Draco.

“Morning,” he said, and leant up to kiss Draco's cheek lightly.

“Morning,” Draco replied, and arched a brow at Harry. “No proper morning kiss?”

“I figured you didn't want me to kill you with my morning breath,” Harry teased, and squeezed him once, then sat up and stretched with a groan. Draco grimaced when he heard Harry's spine pop audibly, then he scratched his back as he looked around the cave they'd taken shelter in the night before. Harry still seemed to be waking up, but Draco was still on edge from all that had happened, and he was keen to get moving.

“So, what now?” Draco asked as he listed off the things in his mind that they needed to do—find their wands, find food, find their clothes, contact the Ministry. Given that he was still more than a little shaken from the previous night's encounter, he had no idea what they should do first.

“Let's find some running water and wash off that cut of yours,” Harry suggested, and brushed his fingers over the nick on Draco's throat. The gentle touch was enough to make Draco shiver. “Then we'll try and find something to eat, and then maybe we should try and get out of here. There's no telling where that—man—left our stuff, so if we come back with someone with a wand, we'll probably have a better chance of finding it.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Draco replied with a small nod, “except...running water? We're in a bloody forest. I don't see any faucets sticking out of the trees, do you?”

“I mean like a brook or a stream or something, you prat,” Harry shot back with a snort, and Draco felt his face grow warm. He hadn't thought of that. Harry's amused smile never wavered as he took one of Draco's hands, and they stepped outside the cave.

It didn't look all that different to how it had the previous night. Dense vegetation, heavy moss on the ground, and the air was heavy with the promise of rain, but thankfully, not overly cold, given that they were still very much naked.

The most troubling aspect, at least to Draco, was the fact that every direction looked the exact same.

The trees were high and very thick, and even though Draco knew that it was the morning, the light was almost as dim as twilight. With the sky so completely obscured, they had no way of orientating themselves, and Draco began to feel like getting out of this forest alive was becoming more and more impossible. What if that madman came back?

“Well,” Harry said, “we better start walking.”

“Which way?”

Harry tilted his head from side to side, his expression thoughtful. After nearly a full minute, he pointed to the left.

“Let's try that way,” he said, “this might sound a bit mental, but I think I can hear rushing water in that direction.”

Draco grimaced, but did not offer up any sort of complaint as Harry began to lead him in the direction that he had pointed to. He was hungry and dizzy, and he had no idea how he could be so calm when it was very likely that they would die out here. For the moment however, he kept his concerns to himself.

As it would turn out, Harry had been right.

They had been walking for barely ten minutes—there were no paths this deep into the wood, and therefore they had to navigate through dense foliage, and watch carefully where they planted their feet, so it felt significantly longer. But they did indeed find a small, babbling brook.

The couple drank deep from the clear, fresh water, and tended to each other's minor wounds. Draco's cut stung a little, but it had already scabbed over. Draco had a feeling that it was going to scar, adding yet another blemish to his torso alongside his Sectumsempra scars.

The next order of business was food. Harry had gathered some dry wood and said he was going to try and start a fire using an old muggle method that he'd heard about, but never tried, while Draco created a makeshift fishing pole using a branch, some acromantula silk he'd found, and a thorn off a nondescript bush. Harry, ever the gentleman, dug out a worm from under a stone and threaded it onto the thorn after Draco refused to touch the slimy thing.

It took the better part of two hours before Harry had managed to light a fire, and Draco had caught a few small perch in that time. Harry stripped a nearby bush of some wild strawberries, which the couple feasted on while they roasted the fish on stones in the fire.

Full and satisfied, Draco and Harry each took another gulp of water from the brook, then doused the flames with soil, and once more got their bearings.

“What now?” Draco asked, and rubbed his arms self-consciously. He'd never been naked and exposed like this before, and even though it was only Harry who could see him, he still felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“Well, You can sort of see the sun through those trees over there,” Harry said as he pointed to a point on the far right. Draco looked, and could just barely make out the glint of the sunlight through the trees, but it was definitely there. “Which means we were going west. We started southwest yesterday, so if we follow the brook that way—” Harry pointed in the direction he meant, “we should make it to where we started yesterday, and the forest should thin from there.”

“Are you sure, Harry?” Draco asked dubiously as he gazed in the direction he intended they go. It looked as though the forest got thicker in that direction, not the opposite.

“Not really,” Harry answered honestly, and shrugged. “I'm just guessing. But we did start in the southwest part of the forest, so it's an educated guess, at least.”

“You seem to sort of know where we're going, at least, so...my life is in your hands,” Draco replied, still uncertain about the direction that Harry had proposed. “But if we die out here, I'll kill you.”

Harry looked for a moment as though he was going to respond, but then with an amused smile and a small shake of his head, he took Draco's hand and led him away.

~*~

“Okay, so maybe I miscalculated a bit.”

“A bit? bit?” Draco asked, and he glared at him. It was now well past sundown; they hadn't managed to find any more food, so they were cold, hungry, and still very much lost. “These woods can't be that big, Harry. We've followed the stream as you suggested, and the trees are not thinning at all.”

“Look,” Harry said in a plaintive tone, as though determine to cut off Draco's fit before we really got going, “we'll just find some shelter and try the other way tomorrow, it's no biggie!”

“It's a big biggie, Harry! A big biggie! We're lost, we have no clothes, and—oh, brilliant, now it's raining.” Draco wrinkled his nose as a drop landed on its tip, and Harry's glasses began to speckle.

“Come on, let's find somewhere to camp for the night,” Harry said without addressing Draco's complaints, and took his hand again.

Grumbling, Draco followed Harry as they searched for a place to camp, and luckily found a hollowed out old tree, at least four feet wide, with a small crack that they both were able to slip into, just as the rain really began to pick up.

It felt a little bigger on the inside, and it was warm and dry, for which Draco was grateful. Harry settled down beside him, and once again he was made painfully aware of their dual nakedness, when Harry's bare hip brushed his own.

Despite the fact that it was warm and dry, it was still far from comfortably warm, and Draco found himself shivering. Immediately, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him close.

“I want to go home,” he mumbled, while Harry stroked his hair.

“I know,” Harry replied gently, “don't worry, Draco, we'll get home in one piece.”

“What if that man finds us again?”

“He won't.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I'm not, I'm just trying to make you feel better,” Harry replied, and Draco chuckled. Harry kissed him gently, and they shifted closer together for extra warmth. The kiss certainly helped Draco feel less hopeless about the whole situation, at least until Harry rested a hand on Draco's hip, and moved to caress his bottom.

“What—what are you doing?” Draco asked, and tensed when Harry offered it a gentle squeeze.

“Just relax,” Harry whispered, “I'm gonna help you stay warm...”

“No, Harry, no—stop,” Draco said quickly, and Harry retracted his hands at once, looking hurt. “I told you, I don't—”

“I know, I know,” Harry interrupted with a soft, frustrated sigh. “I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking with my cock, I'll have you know. I really did just want to help you stay warm, but if you'd rather be cold...”

“Don't start with the guilt-tripping bollocks,” Draco grumbled, “I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but it does to me. I want to save myself for marriage. Multiple generations of my family have taken part in this practice, and I'm not about to let it end with me.”

“All right, I'm sorry,” Harry said quickly, though he sounded less apologetic, and more deeply frustrated. “Let's just...try and get some sleep, yeah?”

Draco nodded as they curled up together, and the rain picked up around them. Draco's toes twitched as cold water overflowed into their sleeping spot for the night, and it was a very long time indeed before he finally fell asleep.

~*~

The Auror assigned to Draco's case was not someone Narcissa nor Lucius knew, and indeed had only emigrated to England within the last two years—from Poland, if his thick accent and name, Aleksy Robak, was anything to go by. This was something of a small mercy, given that it meant that he was less likely to pass judgment on them for their part in the war.

“Mr and Mrs Malfoy,” he said, “we have made a possible connection between the two letters both you two and Miss Granger and Mr Weasley received.” Robak paused to extricate something from the folder he had brought with him, and pushed a small sheet of parchment across the table. It illustrated a symbol of a pentacle and a fist superimposed in its centre, as though cracking the sacred image apart. “Do either of you recognize this?”

Narcissa moved to shake her head, while at the same time Lucius frowned and opened his mouth to protest.

“That's impossible,” he said coldly, “they were disbanded before I was even born. The Inquisitors aren't a threat anymore.”

“Murmurs from our operatives in the muggle world have stated otherwise, unfortunately,” Robak replied gravely.

“Just one moment,” Narcissa interrupted, “who are these...Inquisitors?” The name sounded oddly familiar, but she couldn't place it.

“Muggleborns and half-bloods who rejected their magical inheritance, and chose to stay in the muggle world, ignoring those magical parts of themselves,” Robak explained patiently. “They hated anything to do with the wizarding world, much like muggles in the Dark Ages. They refused wands, they can't Apparate, they won't use their magic at all...except for one dark purpose.”

“Hunting down wizards,” Lucius filled in, and Robak nodded.

“This symbol was found on both of the notes, hidden in the punctuation. It was tiny, barely visible. I believe it would be safe to assume that the words themselves are meaningless—an attempt to throw us off,” Robak continued patiently, while he regarded the couple. “Now that we know this, we have undercover Aurors looking for leads that might indicate where they may have stashed the boys. In the meantime, we're also canvassing the area where they disappeared from, looking for clues that might lead us to them.”

“They were on a nature walk, in the Forest of Dean,” Narcissa said, parroting the facts that Granger had offered the Auror earlier in the day. “You intend to canvas an entire forest?”

“Only the areas with the paths for hikers,” Robak explained patiently, “we have Mr Potter's blood signature on file, given that he is a junior Auror, and that can be used in extreme circumstances to locate where someone has Apparated to, but for some reason the signal is...muddled. We've no idea specifically where Potter escorted your son, but we now know the general area. I know this is a difficult time for you, Mrs Malfoy, but these things do take time.”

The Auror did not stay for very much longer, and when he left, it wasn't even to return to work, but home to his own family. Narcissa stood at the window and watched the sunset, barely visible through the heavy clouds that promised rain that night. Lucius stepped up next to her and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. Narcissa covered it with her own.

“He's out there somewhere, Lucius,” she murmured, and felt her throat grow tight. My little boy...

“He's not alone,” Lucius reminded her, “Potter may be a lot of things, but he would not let harm come to Draco.”

“But he led Draco to this,” she replied sourly, “when they're found, Potter will have some explaining to do about putting our son in danger...”

“I'm sure he didn't mean to...”

“Didn't mean to?” Narcissa snapped, and gazed wide-eyed at her husband. His expression did not change. “That boy attracts trouble like nectar attracts bees. I swear, when they get back...Potter won't even have time to celebrate, I'll have the house elves chop him into tiny pieces and feed his remains to our peacocks.”

“I do believe there is a penalty for murder, even if it is warranted...”

“I don't care,” Narcissa replied angrily, and returned her gaze to the window. “No one hurts my son and gets away with it, even if they didn't mean to.”
A/N: For what it's worth, I'd just like to note that I am vehemently against saving oneself for marriage, (and I have a lot of mixed, contradictory, and grumpy views towards marriage anyway...) so writing this was really, really difficult for me. It's not intended to come across as a preachy, “save yourself for marriage!” sort of thing, it really is just a plot device for this particular story.
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The Devil You Know