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Summary
The tent's protective enchantments hummed softly as Harry laid Draco Malfoy's unconscious form onto the conjured bed—the nicest one, with silk sheets he'd transfigured specifically for this moment. His hands trembled as he smoothed back platinum hair from Draco's pale forehead, fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long.
"Harry." Hermione's voice was sharp, cutting through his reverie. "What have you done?"
He turned to face his best friends, both staring at him with expressions caught between horror and disbelief. Ron's ears had gone red, always a sign of extreme emotion, while Hermione clutched her beaded bag like a lifeline.
"I saved him," Harry said simply, turning back to adjust Draco's collar, to make sure he looked comfortable. Perfect. "Voldemort wants him. Wants to mark him, make him a Death Eater like his father was supposed to be. I couldn't—I won't let that happen."
"So you kidnapped him?" Ron's voice cracked on the last word. "Mate, that's—that's actually mental. Even for you."