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Draco’s head was pounding.
His eyes blinked open before he slammed them shut against the assaulting light. Moving to rub at his eyes, he found his hands unable to move. Shaking his head to clear the fog, his eyes stayed open this time and adjusted to take in his surroundings.
Cold, grey stone beneath his feet, which were tied to the legs of a chair. Shifting in the seat, he finally noticed the rub of coarse rope that was sure to be leaving marks on his wrists. Rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the pressure, he sat up. The first thing he noticed, as his eyes lifted, was his son in a similar state to himself - hands behind his back and eyes blinking owlishly as he stared back at his father. They had just gone to Diagon to celebrate Scorpius’ return from his fifth year at Hogwarts.
The memory slammed into him as Draco recalled the stunning spells hitting both of them in the back.
“Scorp?” His voice was hoarse from disuse. “You okay, son?”
Scorpius nodded, and they both continued their perusal of the small and sparse room. They both noticed the other inhabitant at the same time. But only Draco reacted.
His muscles burned with hatred as he flexed against his restraints. One of the last men that he ever wanted to see was sitting against the far wall.
The grin on the man’s face made Draco see red.
Antonin Dolohov had escaped from the Battle of Hogwarts and had been public enemy number one ever since. He had evaded capture many times and was said to be leading a Death Eater resurgence. What did he want with the two Malfoy men?
Slowly, the Russian came to stand in front of his captives.
“What do you want, Dolohov?” Draco asked calmly.
“I had hoped to convince you to join our ranks,” came the heavily accented English.
The new Malfoy patriarch had done much over the years to rehabilitate his family name. Turning spy was the first step, but after Potter had defeated Voldemort, he kept his head down, made amends, contributed to rehabilitation charities, among many other things. Many late nights at the Leaky after a quiet truce during 8th year at Hogwarts had brought the Golden Trio and the Slytherin gang into each other’s orbits. Now, their combined friend group had quite a few mixed-house couples. Most surprising was Pansy and Neville, but Theo and Harry were so sickeningly in love it made him want to vomit. Not that he was any better, he had fallen hard and fast for the Golden Girl herself and they had been the first of their friends to get married and reproduce. No, Dolohov couldn’t possibly think for a second that Draco would renounce all of that just to take up with his father’s old buddies. That could only leave one thing.
“You want money.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course,” came the reply.
None of the men thought it was necessary to speak for a while after that. Although Draco had difficulty telling time without a watch, his best guess was that a little over an hour had passed since the two of them had woken up. Scorpius started to grow bored at that point and so began asking their captor questions, much to both of the adults’ dismay.
After five questions, Dolohov screamed at Scorpius to shut up. Finally, his son’s attention turned toward him. He asked about the business and how it was going, if there were any interesting cases that he had worked on recently, how the breeding of the Abraxans was going, and other mundane topics.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed that Antonin was growing more and more agitated. Hiding his smirk, he started asking questions about the last school term. Finally, their captor hit his breaking point.
“What is the matter with the two of you!” he screamed, storming over to glare down at Draco.
Scorpius, insolent teen that he was, scoffed loudly and rolled his eyes, drawing the attention of their irate guard. This time, Draco’s smirk made its full appearance.
“Please,” came the snarky reply that only a fifteen year old could muster, “do you expect us to be scared of you?” He spat the last word.
“You are at my mercy! MINE. We are waiting for your bitch of a mother to send the ransom. Then we will see if I decide to let you go. You should be begging me for your life.”
Draco tried to stop the sound that bubbled up from his chest, but the laugh was exhaled anyway.
Dolohov whirled on him.
“You would have been better off kidnapping my wife, not that you would be able to.” The silence prompted Draco to continue, “I have been trying to distance the Malfoy name from the absolute wreck that my father left it as. I am still under scrutiny by the public. I ensure that every step I take is above board. My wife has no such compunction.”
“I am not scared of…”
“You should be.” Draco’s voice had turned cold. “You see, Hermione has a very particular set of skills…”
“Oh Gods, dad!” Scorpius’ voice was dripping with embarrassment. “Seriously?”
“What? It's a great line! You love that movie,” he insisted.
Dolohov was clearly confused but before he could say as much, a door slammed and muffled yelling commenced. Draco had assumed that he wasn’t acting alone, but the voices from the other side of the door confirmed that.
The two Malfoy men made eye contact and their mouths lifted in identical smirks.
“Mummy’s home,” Scorpius said underneath his breath.
Flashes of spells colored the cracks around the wooden door as three pairs of eyes were glued to it. Suddenly, it slammed open and a familiar vinewood and dragon heartstring wand was pointed at Antonin Dolohov, Death Eater, and Ministry’s Most Wanted.
Hermione Jean Granger-Malfoy stood silhouetted in all her curly haired, stilettoed glory. As she moved into the light, Draco saw the splatter of blood across her cheek. How she looked so damned sexy covered in someone else's blood, he’d never know.
“Hello, boys,” she sing-songed.
“Hi, mum!” Scorpius replied brightly.
“Wife,” was all Draco said, and he saw her eyebrow raise at the obvious undertone of that word.
“What happened to my men?” Dolohov demanded.
She shot him the signature Malfoy smirk. “Dead.”
“Mudblood bitch!”
His wife sighed in disappointment. “Really, Antonin? Your master has been dead for two decades and you haven’t come up with a better insult? It is a shame.” She had begun circling the room, moving to put herself in between him and them. Unfortunately, the Death Eater had grown smarter in his years on the run. He just snarled at her.
Draco saw the moment happen in slow motion. The same purple curse that had left a nasty scar on his beautiful wife’s skin was building on the Death Eater’s lips, just as the wordless green curse shot through the air and hit him square in the chest. Antonin Dolohov was dead before he hit the ground.
The enchanted ropes binding the two Malfoy men vanished as soon as their caster was gone. Hermione threw herself into two sets of waiting arms.
Their embrace was interrupted as the door that Hermione had made her grand entrance through flew open once again.
Harry Potter’s wand flew across the room before he even registered his favorite spell being used against him. Rising from her defensive stance, Hermione gave him a sheepish look.
Draco watched him inhale a fortifying breath and adjust his ever-crooked glasses, a sure sign that he was agitated, before beginning. “Hermione, just what am I supposed to tell my boss when I show up to find Dolohov and five of his Death Eater buddies dead before aurors have even arrived on scene?”
“Self-defense?” She had plastered on her most innocent smile. Unfortunately, it was not at all convincing.
Rubbing at his scar, he grumbled under his breath then looked up as Ron jostled his shoulder as he walked by, moving to retrieve his partner’s wand. Handing it back to him, he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You’re just upset that she got to have all the fun!” He threw Hermione a playful wink.
Potter just scoffed and exited the room. They could hear him giving instructions to the rest of the team to clean up.
“Nice work, ‘Mione,” Ron said as he followed Harry out.
She buried her face into Draco’s chest as she tried to cover her snickers.
“Let’s go home,” he said into her hair.
“Yeah!” Scorpius said. “And watch Taken!”