Work Text:
Smoke
Smoke.
It swirled through his nightmare, taunting him. Challenging him to wake and confront that which he had been running from.
Antonin opened his stinging eyes as the acrid smell assaulted his nose, memories forcing their way into his conscious.
He had had many a long, desolate night to try and process what had happened. To try to make sense of the killing, the mayhem, the horror. To wonder what had happened to Thorfinn and Yaxley. All he knew was that both sides- ‘good’ and ‘evil’ - had suffered and that there were no winners or losers in that battle. Only losers.
He had been on the run now for a week, waiting for his Lord and Master to give him some kind of sign or instruction on what he should do next and where he should go. And so far, he had managed to stay one step ahead of the aurors. Until now.
The crumbling, disused cabin he had sought shelter in was now filled with choking, black smoke. Dogs barked their warning while harsh shouts and threats permeated the walls of his refuge. He knew he had to act.
Sitting up, Antonin checked the protective wards that were still in place. The aurors had obviously decided that if they couldn’t get in, they would force him out.
Flames now crept their burning fingers across the rotting floorboards toward him, their heat almost welcome after the frigid cold of the forest he had made his temporary home.
Coughing and wiping his streaming eyes, Antonin crawled towards the broken window that gaped like an open mouth screaming its agony into the darkness.
Gratefully inhaling lungfuls of fresh air, he saw the faceless figures of his pursuers swirling just beyond the clearing and tried to form a plan. He needed to get out but where would he go?
Malfoy Manor was the obvious choice, but it would be crawling with those ready to send him back into the hell of Azkaban. No, the Dark Lord would choose somewhere less conspicuous to hide and wait for his loyal followers to regroup. The Parkinson Estate lay not too far from here. Purebloods that supported the cause.
As the flames continued their determined advance his mind issued a command. “RUN!”
Skirting the flames, Antonin moved towards the door with his wand gripped tightly in his hand. He began to mutter the incantation that would hopefully allow him to slip unseen past the wizards outside, and stealthily left the building.
He had almost made it to the protective safety of the trees, when his foot caught a concealed branch and he fell, the sound of his body splintering the rotting wood alerting the aurors.
Panicked, he risked a look over his shoulder to see 2 dogs released from their leash, snarling as they ran towards him. Hexes and spells were thrown at him, his protective charm threatening to give way.
Stumbling forward he cast his signature curse towards his pursuers. One of the dogs yelped in pain as his enemies continued their assault of magic, bellowing orders to stop.
He began to run.