Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Bros. They are used here for entertainment purposes only.

Warnings: Slash. Het. Violence. Language.

Spoilers: Previously written story: Like Glass. Written Pre-OotP.

The Shattering
Chapter 7 - The Pain in Mine

He shifted slightly when he woke, face crumpling into a grimace at the pain reverberating through his head. He lifted his hand, slowly, to the back of his skull to check for blood, and his other hand went up with it.

His hands were, as they say, tied.

To his feet.

He struggled briefly to free himself and, giving up, groaned lowly and let his head drop back to the hardwood floor. Another brief flash of pain interrupted his conscious thoughts until all his brain would say was, "Ow ow ow ow!"

Breathing deeply, he eventually settled down. He opened his eyes, immediately discovering the blindfold as his eyelashes swept across black fabric. Straining, he could make out a blurry shape or two, as the fabric wasn't as thick as it needed be to block out all of the morning light.

Next time, try linen. Or silk. Bigger thread count, his tired mind supplied.

He worked his wrists against his ankles, judging the looseness of the roped binding him and snorted in the back of his head.

His kidnappers were, obviously, amateurs.

A shifting to his left caused him to freeze mid-movement and lift his head, ears straining to pick out any further sounds.

"He's up."

The voice was muffled, but clearly male, and Draco's eyebrow raised from beneath the blindfold.

"That he is," he offered. "He is also wondering who was dumb enough to kidnap him."

"Why?" Another male voice to his right sneered, "'S your boyfriend gonna save you?"

"Probably." Draco didn't flinch, but inwardly sighed. He was almost insulted that he hadn't been worthy of kidnapping before his relationship with Harry. "What do you want? Money? I hate to be the one to inform you, but I've been disinherited. You probably won't get a penny out of my father."

"Really?" said the voice to his left, but the voice to his right interrupted tightly.

"We're not after money, traitor."

"Traitor? Please tell me you're not working for Voldemort," he said, dryly.

There was a shocked silence when he said the Dark Lord's name, but eventually the voice to his left grumbled, "not yet."

"Shut up!" The voice to his right hissed, and a wand was pressed against Draco's throat awkwardly. "Just- Just shut up! Gag him!"

There was a shuffling, and Draco started to struggle only to discover his hands and feet were tied to something else that kept him in place. Soon, something was being shoved into his mouth by slightly pudgy fingers.

He bit down.

"Ouch! Ow! Little bastard! Draco!"

Draco's muffled protests soon flooded the room, but his captors ignored him, talking over him. "We have to get back, or we'll be missed."

"What about my hand?" Draco was kicked, softly, in the side. He grunted and would have scowled if he weren't so busy trying to work his hands free.

"You should have kept your fingers away from his teeth. Come on." The voice to his right addressed him one last time as the body belonging to the voice on his left began to move away. "We'll be back later, Draco. Trust us, this is for your own good."

The insults being thrown around in Draco's head would have made the most stalwart of men blush.

* * *

Rubbing his head against the floorboard eventually caused the blindfold to fall slack from his ears and he could barely peek out from above the edge of the fabric. He paused in his ministrations, panting, to judge the time of day by the length of shadows in the room. It was dank, he'd long ago noted how awful the place smelled, and by his estimations it was nearly noon.

Harry would have noticed he was gone by breakfast. Snape would have begun looking for him by the time the first class was out. They'd be arguing probably. Eventually Harry, and perhaps his two sidekicks, would sneak out to look for him while all of Hogwarts gossiped.

He idly wondered if waiting to be rescued by your hero boyfriend was always this boring.

He thought back over the conversation he'd had with his captors and a moment or so later winced.

Most people just didn't call him 'Draco' with such familiarity. They'd been Slytherins. And they'd known him.

Old friends.

They'd also not done a very good job of kidnapping him, and supplied with all these observations, Draco came to the most apparent conclusion.

Crabbe and Goyle.

Let's see. Slightly dumber, Goyle had been to his left and Crabbe to his right. Vin had always been the marginally smarter of the two. He slumped to the ground again, ceasing to work at his bound extremities, depressed.

Crabbe and Goyle.

They thought he was a traitor.

He supposed that, in a way, he was. It was bad enough he was seeing a Gryffindor, but... Harry Potter?

In frustration, he let his head thump back against the floor, causing him to wince in pain and squeak against his gag.

Whimpering, again in frustration, he fought back tears all the while swearing they didn't exist, and began to work at his restraints.

* * *

Harry and Snape were scowling at each other and Dumbledore was looking on bemusedly, obviously not worried. This caused Hermione to relax, which caused Ron to relax, and together they exchanged an exasperated look.

"You are a student, Mr. Potter, and, despite your delusions of grandeur, should go back to your class and let the adults deal with this situation."

"He's my boyfriend," Harry returned, only a small part of him reveling in the wince his words caused, "and I'm going to find him with or without your help. Professor."

"Ten points for talking back, Potter." Snape growled, but before he could go on, Professor Dumbledore interrupted them.

"Professor Snape is correct, Harry. Why don't you go back to class while we look for Mr. Malfoy. I assure you he'll be just fine when next you see him."

"But, Professor-"

"You heard him, Potter," Snape sneered. Turning, he swirled away and Harry bit back an angry retort, which would have done nothing but lose him more points. Professor Dumbledore smiled at him before following after Snape.

Harry scowled after them until he felt a pull at his sleeve and turned to meet Hermione's worried, but less panicked eyes. "If Professor Dumbledore says he'll be fine, Harry, then he'll be fine."

Harry harrumphed, but relaxed a little. "I still want to go after him. He might be in danger, and it's probably all my fault-"

Ron sighed and interrupted Hermione as she opened her mouth to retort. "Can we pretend we had the conversation where Hermione tells us we should do what the Professors told us to do, and we end up doing whatever we want anyway?"

Harry grinned at him and Hermione scowled, but said nothing as they headed for Gryffindor tower to dig out Harry's invisibility cloak and the Marauder's map.

* * *

About an hour later Draco had finally freed himself and, removing the gag from his mouth, threw it to the floor and stomped on it several times, yelling out insults.

It made him feel better, and no one was around to see him acting undignified.

He shoved his way through overturned furniture, graying wood and dusty fabrics, to the front door of the little cabin nestled in what he assumed to be the Dark Forest.

Why?

Who would have wanted to live in a cabin in the Dark Forest anyway and how had Crabbe and Goyle known about it when Draco hadn't?

Questions such as these served to distract him from the most important issue at hand; namely, what was he going to do about Crabbe and Goyle? They'd been his friends. He'd taught them to do exactly as they had done, and the irony of the situation was that normally; before all this nonsense with loving Potter came 'round; he'd have been right there with them.

Although he would have made sure their captive couldn't have escaped.

He kicked at a molding stair and paused at the bottom of the short flight down, staring out into the woods. They looked rather different in the middle of the afternoon. Still kind of dark, but light enough to see through. The last time he'd been through them he'd been a first year, and had been absurdly comforted by Potter's presence, no matter how he snarked at the brunette he'd once hated, right up until...

Okay. Not helping.

He sighed and searched the ground at his feet, suddenly relieved to find that Crabbe and Goyle, heavy-footed, had left footprints behind for him to follow.

Helpful, that.

Stretching a little, and cursing in the back of his head, he started towards what he assumed to be the school and brooded silently.

* * *

Thirty minutes later Draco halted in the middle of his walk. The throbbing in his aching head had made itself known to him just a few minutes after he'd begun his escape, edging slowly into his mind after the adrenaline of escaping had gone away. But now it was edged to the background again as his adrenaline once again picked up due to the rustling in the underbrush ahead of him. He ducked behind a nearby tree, listening.

"-you sure he's out here, Harry?"

"Yes."

"I mean, why the forest?"

"Where else could they have taken him so they wouldn't be seen running off with him?"

"Potter," he breathed, suddenly slumping against his tree in relief. Harry and friends froze at the sound of his voice and Draco dragged himself out from behind the tree. "What took you so long?"

Harry stared at him in dawning horror.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

It was said weakly, and he squinted at the colorful spots in his vision, and a half a second later Harry was there, wrapped around him.

"Draco, you're bleeding. But you're okay! Well... sort of."

"Bleeding?" His vision was growing wobbly.

"You're hair's all... sticky and red," offered Ron. Hermione had rushed forward with Harry and was checking him over for other injuries.

"Are you all right, Draco?" Harry whispered.

"Of course, Potter. Just got tired of waiting for you to rescue me. Thought I'd do it myself. Lazy git." His voice grew weaker, and he was thankful to already be in Harry's embrace when he passed into unconsciousness.

End Chapter