#scabco

               He heard her sigh and give up, going back to bed without him. It was probably better this way, that she realize his heart would not be in it if they went and married as their parents hoped. Astoria would learn that he had no room in his heart for her romantically, though she was a good friend. She was one of the few who had seen past his wrongdoings in his last year of schooling. Only Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne had done the same. The rest…

               Well, to be honest, he could care less about the rest.

               When he was sure he was alone again, Draco resumed a previous train of thought as he stared out the window in the sitting room that branched off from his room. There was a balcony, too, but he didn't want to go outside. It was raining, and he was perfectly fine looking from the inside out.

               Funny thing, it raining. Despite the downpour, the sky wasn't wholly gray. It still had just a hint of blue. The color was a favorite of Draco's; it looked peaceful, hopeful. But it also brought back painful memories.

               He thought of times at the Manor, of Snatchers extraordinaire. He thought of teasing smirks and of little greetings. He thought of danger and of chances and of allegiances.

               He also thought of betrayals and of not-kept promises. He thought of anger and of frustration and of fear.

               But he also thought of feelings, of his hand on someone else's arm, and of red streaks.

               But that's silly, he thought. He had tried to convince himself that the Snatcher, Delwyn Scabior, had been just some passing whim in his mind, in his life. Because Draco Malfoy was not attracted to men, no. He didn't kiss them either (though that took more effort to recall, after two kisses with Scabior). He also was not attracted to anyone so strongly.

               Draco grimaced.

               Maybe a good shower in the rain is what I need.

               He turned and went downstairs. Outside, it was still very early morning, but the clouds covered the sun and most of the blue sky. In the backyard of Malfoy Manor was a large garden not all that unlike the labyrinth the champions had had to navigate in the Triwizard Tournament, though this one was infinitely much safer.

               Still, Draco was more than content to sit on one of the stone benches and admire the flowers growing on the outside of the garden maze. He recognized the roses only, for they were so commonplace—

               Draco stilled as he heard a rustle in the bushes. He strained his ears for the sound, as he wasn't convinced it was anything more than an animal or the rain drowning the foliage. When he heard nothing, Draco relaxed enough to stare at the sky again, rain and all. But he was a little disturbed by the scare.

               Looking at the sky, Draco easily could picture a matching set of eyes. Yes, and if there were a laugh and a mark of red, too, then Draco knew that he still could picture Scabior very clearly. But he knew he would never see Scabior again. Once, Draco had said "no" for his family. The second time, Draco had said he'd run away with Scabior—but that didn't happen. After they'd crossed the gorge, Draco had hesitated and said "no" a second time. Scabior, still on the bridge, had become very agitated, and he'd ranted at Draco for leading him on again. Sadly, that bridge's foundations had been weakened from the suits of armor being present on them hours before, and the floor had crumbled beneath Scabior. Draco had had to watch in horror as he could do nothing to save a man—well, a man about whom he did care. It's my fault for telling him "no," the wizard thought with a frown. He'd probably still be alive if it weren't for me…

               The wizard stood and marched into the maze, taking his mind off Scabior by focusing on the flowers. The rain always brought these memories to mind, even though two, almost three years had passed since he'd last seen Scabior. Compared to those dark thoughts, the flowers were a nice distraction.

               However, he heard the rustle again. Draco's hackles went up. Following the war, he'd all but shut himself off from the world, for he never wanted to be involved in anything so dangerous ever again. But just because he'd shut himself off from the world didn't mean that the world had shut itself off from him. And it seemed to come find him. "I know someone's there," he said loudly.

               If someone really was, they didn't give away their position.

               Were they toying with Draco? Was someone playing a terrible prank on him? Hadn't he and his parents suffered enough? They'd avoided Azkaban, but they were outcasts, only a few close family friends still interacting with them.

               Or maybe…maybe someone had come to finish the job and rid the Wizarding world of the Malfoys once and for all.

               "Please leave," he said, though not as loudly. "I don't want to have to escort you off my property." Though his wand was in his hand, he didn't feel reassured. His wand nearly had been glued to his palm following the war.

               This time, there was a response: a whistle. It wasn't just one note. It was a series of notes, as though the person were humming a tune. Three slow notes preceded three quick ones, another three quick, and a long single one. The person repeated the pattern a few times.

               Thanks to the maze and the rain, however, Draco couldn't pinpoint the person's location. He knew it wouldn't be his father—Lucius couldn't whistle. Narcissa preferred to hum than to whistle, and she would've announced herself. And Astoria…well, Astoria was still in bed. Besides, he would've seen any of them enter since he'd been by the entrance.

               So…this meant that, whoever it was, he or she was lying in wait.

               "Fine then, I'll come find you." Draco cleared his throat and took a few leaden steps forward. But he picked up his pace as a thought bolstered him, the idea that the sooner this annoyance was solved, the better.

               The pattern was repeated a few more times with little variation. Sometimes Draco thought he was getting close to it; other times the person sounded to be on the other side of the maze. But the thing about these garden labyrinths was that they always met in the middle, and, though Draco didn't remember the way since he'd last been here in his childhood, he Burned a mark onto the left walls to follow a winding path through the enigma. It was about ten minutes before Draco felt he was lost, but then he took a right turn and stumbled upon the clearing.

               He gasped.

               In the clearing was a stone bench that matched the ones outside the entrance. But that wasn't the shocker. The real shocker was the mirage in front of Draco's eyes. It frightened him.

               "Sca…Scabior?"

               The mirage whistled the pattern again and grinned as he faced Draco. "Hullo there, lovely. It's been a while." He stood, hands on hips, as though waiting to be thanked for saving the day.

               Draco frowned. "…why?"

               "Why what?"

               "Why did you come here?" He shook his head. "And how?"

               Scabior gave him a look. "You really 'ave to ask?" He sighed. "Cushionin' Charm, 'course. Didn't prevent me from blackin' out from my fall, no, but I survived."

               Draco closed his eyes, unable to believe this even though he'd wondered something similar. "Then why did you come here? I thought you were angry. I turned you down not once but twice."

               Scabior scowled. "You know exactly why."

               The Malfoy nodded. It was only a few months ago when their parents had put a notice in the papers about Draco and Astoria's engagement. They would probably be engaged for a while, but they were betrothed nevertheless.

               "So naturally I 'ad to come back for you."

               "What makes you think I'll go this time?"

               Scabior's grin returned to his face as he took several steps towards Draco. "I don't think you 'ave much of a choice, Draco. You can't stop thinkin' about me, can you?"

               Draco bit his lip as he looked up at Scabior's face. Of course he hadn't stopped thinking about a man he'd thought he'd killed. Of course he couldn't stop thinking about a man who'd risked his neck for him. Of course he couldn't stop thinking about a man who just wanted them to run away so that he could have Draco all to himself. And sincerely, too. It wasn't just possessiveness with Scabior. It was you're-mine-and-I'm-yours-and-that's-that.

               Scabior looked ready to kiss him, but he didn't even though he bent down. Draco felt his breath on his face.

               "Are you not leaving without a yes?"

               Draco closed his eyes again, but Scabior took a few steps back. His gentle chuckle forced Draco to look at him and see his sad smile. "I'm never leavin', luv. I'm just a figment of your imagination."

               Panic seized him, and Draco darted forward, his hand reaching for the Snatcher without a thought. But his hand passed right through him. Dear Merlin. Was he really insane?

               He'd actually seen a mirage.

               But that wasn't what bothered him the most. No, what got to him was the overwhelming loneliness that crashed over him as soon as those eyes had dissolved into the mist. Draco sank to his knees, trying to get a hold of himself. He'd never been so distraught before, and certainly not because another's absence was the cause.

               Of course. That was it.

               Draco returned to the house only to change and to grab a few things. He wasn't going crazy, he thought as he left Malfoy Manor. His true feelings merely had manifested during the rain, taking on a pivotal form. And if he couldn't get that form out of his head, then there was no reason to stay here where the real Scabior wasn't. Draco had been wishy-washy long enough; now, both Scabior and Astoria deserved the truth. Draco told Astoria first, in a note:

Ast—

               I doubt you'll be surprised when you wake up to find I'm not there. But we both know that my heart's elsewhere, Ast. I can't ruin your life. You're too dear to me…just not in the way our parents wished.

               Please, don't let them look for me. I don't want to be found. I'm going to find someone myself, and then—I don't know. And I don't know if I'll ever be back.

               Tell Mum I'm sorry, and give Daph, Pans, and Blaise all my love.

               But I'm saving all my love for him.

Yours,

Draco

               He'd underlined "him" in red, knowing she would understand, for he had spoken only briefly of his Snatcher to her once. But he wanted her to know. Maybe it was the kindest thing he'd ever done…

               But now the boldest thing he'd ever do would be to find Scabior and at last give him that "yes."

I smell sequel! ;D *LOL* Tbh, I really like Drastoria friendship. And I like this kind of Draco that's not totally emo. Of course, I love Draco/Louis even more, but… ;P I also really enjoyed this mirage idea; I've heard that fogs can play tricks on the eyes, after all. But yeah. Note: The whistled tune is real! I had "Fatal" (I think that was the one) by Japanese composer Yoko Kanno in mind; it's this eerie whistle done by the villain in the anime The Vision of Escaflowne. (It's short and definitely I recommend looking it up on Youtube or something! :] ) Been a while since there's been more Scabco, eh, Shade? ;}

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

                The Snatcher wandered through the crowd assembled. Most were chatting anxiously about besieging Hogwarts Castle. A few were playing with spells—oh, never mind, Rodolphus was yelling at them already, finally that lazy bastard was doing something—and some others looked impatient. Scabior, on the other hand, wasn't like them. He just wanted to get this over with and find him…or find him and run.

                At that thought, he sought out the pair of fair-haired heads near the Dark Lord. Ah, yes, there they were. Lucius and Narcissa.

                Lucius looked worse than at the time of Potter and company's escape from Bellatrix at the manor. Narcissa…well, she looked nicely composed, all things considered. Scabior mused that she probably was trying to be strong for her husband. Or—

                Scabior looked around. Were they jesting? If he wasn't here, then… The Snatcher cursed.

                Draco was in the school.

                And all tha' talk about tellin' me "no" because he wanted to stick with his family, Scabior thought. It hadn't even been that long ago when Potter and his mates had fled from Malfoy Manor. Scabior hadn't been there to see it happen, exactly. Bellatrix had flung him outside with a rather strong spell, and Scabior had very nearly walked then and there. Draco had risked scorn, leaving the house to see if he was all right. Scabior—Scabior had given him an ultimatum.

                And what had Draco chosen? His family. His bloody family.

                Scabior gritted his teeth. Why did he even feel anything for the—the kid? That's right. It was better to label him thusly, because then Scabior didn't feel so bad that he hadn't gotten his way. It meant nothing, all those months of passing by one another, each gaze lingering longer than the previous one. It meant nothing, the way Draco's eyes managed to possess a warmth that rattled Scabior. It meant nothing, all those times when they could've had a moment, a word more than all the niceties they had ever exchanged.

                It meant nothing, a kiss that Draco seemed all too ready to forget.

                As that memory resurfaced, Scabior backed away from the Malfoys. He didn't need to look at them right now or speak to them. There was no point if Draco wasn't with them.

                Argh! Why'd he have to go falling for that weak little brat anyway?

                In time, the lot of them was ordered to rush the castle, and Scabior was relieved that his mind was more preoccupied with making it across the covered bridge before it blew up. He had a near scare where he clung to the broken ledge…but those two idiots from Gryffindor (wasn't that the Longbottom kid?) were none the wiser when they turned and retreated to the castle, thinking they'd halted the Death Eaters.

                Well, luck was with Scabior this time. He heaved himself up, keeping an eye out for more Hogwartian defenders, and drew his wand before spiriting into the grounds.

                For a group of ickle ones, they were doing a damn good job of protecting Hogwarts. McGonagly must've been the one to summon the suits of armor to life; Scabior had to hide from at least two already, and he'd been in the castle for what, five minutes? Sheesh!

                Quite honestly, Scabior… He didn't know where he was running. He was too busy deflecting spells to cast any himself. As he ran outside one of the towers, he bit back an expletive as a crystal ball nearly clobbered him over the head. What the hell?! Hogwarts had one hell of a way of fighting back.

                Twice Scabior thought he saw a flash of white-blond hair. Twice, he was mistaken. Scabior recognized one of them as that witch who had been in the basement of the manor…but she wasn't Draco. Where was Draco?

                And why did Scabior care so much if he'd given up on him?

                Hours passed. Dawn broke. The turmoil died down until Hogwarts was eerily quiet… Scabior shook his head and hid in the recesses of a large pile of rubble. He needed to rest. The adrenaline that had been pushing him earlier had left him. His resolve was quickly abandoning him, too. Draco had to mean something for him to stick his neck out like this. Because, truthfully, Scabior couldn't give two shits about the Dark Lord winning the war.

                While he was lost in his thoughts, a commotion sounded from the Inner Courtyard. Scabior picked up his hanging head and stood.

                As quietly as he could manage, the Snatcher stuck to the shadows and kept an eye out. The scene was chilling, with Hogwartians and the Dark Lord's servants alike merely…standing still. Oh. He could understand why. The Dark Lord was making some announcement and—what the…? That was Potter? Potter was dead?

                Draco appeared from the school's side and jogged over to meet his parents. The Malfoys began to back away while the Dark Lord spoke, thinking no one would take notice of them. Granted, few did as it turned out that Potter was not, in fact, dead, and the battle resumed. Lucius and Narcissa were drawn back into battle, and Draco found himself fending off some more of his schoolmates and classmates. Scabior rushed to his side.

                "Expelliarmus!" Scabior shouted, knocking the Ravenclaw back several yards from the power of his spell.

                The Malfoy heir stopped panting, his breath caught in his throat. "What. Are you. Doing here?"

                Scabior mustered half a smile. "I'm evil, and I 'ad a summons. Did you get the invite, too?"

                "You shouldn't be here." His expression was hard, but his tone was weak.

                Scabior eyed him up and down. He hadn't seen him in ages… No wonder Scabior had risked running into the fray. How could he deny himself the chance to see these gray eyes? Without thinking, he grabbed Draco by the shoulder and smashed their mouths together, and, oh, sweet Salazar, Draco was not a flavor Scabior would be forgetting in this lifetime or the next. When he broke for breath, he caressed Draco's cheek with his thumb.

                "Stop that," Draco growled, but he made no move to stop him.

                "You've got soot on your face," the Snatcher retorted, brushing it away. "Why?"

                "It's nothing."

                Scabior's eye twitched in annoyance. "It is, is it?"

                Draco grimaced. "Potter—Potter saved me… From Fiendfyre."

                "Who the bloody 'ell was stupid enough to summon Fiendfyre?" Though, as soon as the words left his mouth, Scabior regretted them, for something broken flitted through those lovely gray orbs. He clenched his jaw; though regretful, Scabior wasn't one to apologize.

                "But what about you?" Draco asked, putting Scabior on the spot. "Why aren't you fighting with—with the others?"

                "The only thing I'm interested in 'ere is you."

                Funny how, even amidst a war, Scabior could still make Draco pause and turn pink in the cheeks. "You sound ridiculous."

                "Now or never, Draco."

                It was those words. They were simple words, but delicate ones. Scabior had used them ages ago, and Draco had told already him "no" once, but…

                Well, if Draco weren't going to come with him this time, then Scabior might as well go fight alongside the Aurors, for all it was worth. Once the Death Eaters discovered Scabior hadn't lifted a finger to help their side…

                So what now? Was Scabior burning his last bridge? Was he going to lose the last thing that he—ugh, don't make him say it…! …the last thing that he cared about?

                "Don't shit with me, Draco," Scabior hissed, withdrawing his touch. Go figure that it had happened once and was happening again. "And don't bother ever callin' on this ol' Snatcher if you ever need a favor."

                Draco remained frozen where he was, his face unreadable as Scabior put more distance between them. Draco… Draco wasn't much of anything. He was weak, needed protection, and cared about himself and nothing else—except maybe his parents.

                But Scabior couldn't deny that having two tastes of the wizard was better than one. And he'd probably continue to care—

                He froze, eyes wide, as one of those newbie Death Eaters who had signed up simply for the massacring spied Draco and raised his arm to throw a spell at him.

                Scabior moved automatically. He didn't even utter the Killing Curse as he threw it, at the same time pushing Draco out of the way. They crashed to the ground, the opposing spell whizzing past Scabior's lovely red streak of hair and the Death Eater hitting the ground with a thud. The Snatcher…he was unsure that his heart had ever pounded so hard in his chest before. He looked under him at a pale face that had turned whiter—and he hugged that form to him, tightly.

                Fuck being decisive. Scabior liked being indecisive, because he really couldn't leave this time without Draco coming with him.

                "Let go of me, Scabior," Draco breathed. In reality, his grip was tight on the Snatcher, too. Fear still tightened every muscle in his body.

                "If I do tha', I won't know you're safe." Scabior squeezed him more tightly. "So I'm not movin' until you say 'yes.'"

                The minute that passed felt like forever… But eventually they stood, Draco's grip on Scabior's arm like that of steel.

                "Well."

                Draco said nothing.

                However, Scabior gave him the tiniest of grins. "I hear you loud an' clear, luv."

                Good thing Draco had an "Exceeds Expectations" for chickening out and running. Scabior needed him to lead the way while the rest of the world around them drowned in chaos.

-w- Lovely. This is only my 2nd time where I've really had the charries run away…almost like eloping…and both wanted to run away… Hmm. I think this calls for a sequel, though… On another note, I just keep giggling when Scab says, "I'm evil, and I 'ad a summons. Did you get the invite, too?" XDDD And I feel sad when Draco looks hurt at bringing up the Fiendfyre… Crabbe and Goyle might've been cronies, but cronies can be friends, too! :'( You better enjoy this, Shade, hon! I was trying to write a final when this distracted me! XD

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

"It's been seven hours long And your shadow still hangs on" —La Roux, "Fascination"

  Shadows&shadows&bags under eyes They're things they have in common (but maybe that bugs Scab to begin with, because he can't stand having another him in the w_o_r_l_d)

  D.a.r.k.n.e.s.s. is much more EvIdEnT in Draco, though It c-c-clings to him like a burial [shroud] That kid's never gonna get back the :)c h i l d h o o d(: of which he was ROBBED

  Scabior, on the other hand, e~m~b~r~a~c~e~d his darkness a long time ago (a miscreant's misspent youth) &it's taken him all this t-i-m-e *tictoc* to adjust& now that he's found himself in a position of gAiN He's. So. Screwed.

  {Agh, Draco, you've got the l/o/v/e/l/y gray eyes of a wounded animal}

  Scab rather liked reporting to Malfoy Manor —a day-to-day chance to glimpse those gray eyes— Draco's stare began lingering on the Snatcher in passing ~perhaps that red streak in his hair was like a F L A R E &&Draco just c o u l d n ' t tear his eyes away~

  {Oh, Scabior, you're a damned magnet to Draco's +p-o+l-a+r-i+t-y+}

  Scabior was the "leader" of the Snatchers in front of Draco (Greyback could go sCrAtCh someone, for all Scab cared) Draco was not as w:e:a:k & did not /cower\ at the Dark Lord's name when Scabior was in the room (Merlin, wouldn't it be nice to think he could draw on Scab's obnoxious confidence?)

  B-U–T

  There was a d.I.f.F.e.R.e.N.c.E. between being friendly with Scabior &&with "being ;]f r i e n d l y[; with Scabior" & Draco knew that line was .::not::. to be crossed

  {And, really, plenty of people had already ?questioned? by now that Draco had let H a r r y off so easily several times before}

  So where did it leave them? In a room full of captives&&a half-arsed attempt to escape? Ah, if only A*u*n*t*i*e Bella hadn't lost her temper (but that was the real chance)

  oUtSiDe (((cold))) »damp« • w e a k • Draco found Scabior [u n c o n s c i o u s] &&Scabior had had enough the Snatcher's ploy was no more

  "Now or never, Draco"

  A nod—a lean—a whisper and Scabior thought Draco would cave… But apparently he was not as persuasive as he thought, for all he got was the ghost of a kiss & a pitiful excuse:

  "…but, my family…"

  So Scabior left he fought he survived &&he lived with a permanent s_c_o_w_l on his face, the taste of Draco

  (of bitter ¤f r u s t r a t i o n¤)

  lingering on his tongue…

  &&heart

Aww… I think Draco should seek out Scab postwar… Sequel, anyone? ;D Hope you enjoyed it, Shade.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew