Title: Sidetracked Home –Prologue?
Author: Emerald Thorn
Rating: R eventually
Pairings: HPDM maybe others eventually
Genre: Humor, Romance, Drama (maybe), excuse to get Harry and Draco to do naughty things.
Author's Notes: er.... I don't know if I should continue onwards with this... I have semi-constructed a plot in my head but I don't know (is still debating fate of ficlet).
'You brilliant arsehole... look what you've gotten yourself into this time' Draco mentally berated himself as he watched a Death Eater prepare some sort of potion that they were planning on giving to him but hadn't told him what it would do to him. Rather ruined the fun in Draco's opinion but it seemed more and more that his opinion meant next to nothing with this particular crowd. 'Stupid Father... why do I always have to pay for his mistakes?' Draco asked himself, keeping up the mental one-sided dialogue to avoid focusing on the large amounts of pain he was in. 'One would think that after the Dark Lord came back Father would have realized that it wasn't a good idea to mess up but it was just one mistake after another until he finally landed his sorry arse in Azkaban and in order for his cronies and fellow henchmen to free him he promised me as Voldie's personal lab rat—eugh... Pettigrew. I refuse to compare myself to that cowardly little bastard. I think I actually am starting to feel sorry for Sirius Black.'
Draco's attention was drawn outward as he watched three big Death Eaters carrying a large vat of something. Something that smelled rather odd in Draco's opinion as his nose was assaulted by the smell of sweetness, evergreens, wind, sky, wilderness and rain. It was a rather large vat, the three bulky Death Eaters stumbling under the weight as they grappled and tugged the container into the large torture chamber that had been converted into holding cell for Draco combined with impromptu potions laboratory.
The biggest of the three gave a mighty "eugha!" as they sat the vat next to the large cauldron where Voldemort and two other Death Eaters had been working on the potion for the last two days in-between extracting Draco's blood which had then been put into the potion.
Needless to say, Draco was getting rather worried about just what they intended to do with the potion. The little he knew about potions involving blood was enough to scare a Hufflepuff to death, maybe even a Gryffindor. Wizard blood used in potions usually meant very, very bad things.
At least he hadn't seen his Father since the spineless shriveled bastard had drug him in front of his lord and given him as a thank you gift. The thought of seeing his father filled his head with every nasty curse or hex his Father had drilled into him as a young child and using them all at once.
The half-lusty, half-insane smile Voldemort had given him after Lucius left had doubled Draco's worries. Voldemort wasn't currently in the room, but Draco knew he'd be back. Voldemort had been the one to collect all the blood that had been taken. He'd rather enjoyed it and the memory of it made Draco feel as if he were about to take sick—even though he no longer had the energy left to do more than struggle slightly against his bonds when someone approached him. Even now, although he was being ignored, Draco's head leaned back against the wall, his arms pulled painfully tight to either side. Despite the coolness of the underground room, a light sheen of sweat covered his mostly nude body. The sweat mixed with blood from the numerous cuts and tinted his skin red. His modesty had been preserved only because Voldemort hadn't wanted anyone getting any ideas... which was another thing that seriously worried Draco.
There had been a lot of things to seriously worry Draco in the last two days.
The death eaters were now tilting the vat and slowly pouring a red colored liquid into the potion. Surprisingly, it didn't seem like there was any added volume to the potion as gallons and gallons were added to the much smaller cauldron. A fourth death eater had entered and was stirring the cauldron with a sword...a sword... and if Draco was not mistaken it was a silver sword.
It was time to leave the seriously worried behind and stick with overwhelming panic.
As the Death Eaters finished pouring in the red liquid there was a loud 'poof' noise and a red mushroom-shaped cloud erupted from the cauldron. All four Death Eaters scrambled backwards to avoid the cloud which dissipated in less than two seconds. Cautiously, the one holding the sword peered into the cauldron and announced "Almost done. Milord will want to add the final ingredient himself."
Draco fervently hoped he was NOT the final ingredient.
Harry felt weird. There was no other way to describe it. He had practiced his occlumency before he had gone to bed the night before and still he had somehow connected with Voldemort. Normally this would have triggered a frantic note to someone but Harry was unsure what he would tell them. All he had sensed was anticipation and lust—which seriously worried Harry. He was now scarred for life. Voldemort and sex—ewww...
What was even more disgusting was the brief image of Draco Malfoy chained to a wall, bleeding and snarling as he tried to free himself. The look of hatred and disgust in the younger Malfoy's eyes had been aimed directly at Voldemort—or at least Harry assumed it was Voldemort. Even though Harry wasn't a huge fan of Malfoy, he didn't think that if what he suspected was happening was happening... Malfoy didn't deserve that sort of fate.
However, the more important question of debate this evening was if what Harry thought was a vision was actually a vision or a really messed up dream. And if it was a vision, what should he do about it? He really didn't know where Voldemort was and even if he did know he had no way of leaving the Dursleys without getting cited for underage use of magic.
What was a Boy Wonder to do?
So should I continue it or not?
Feedback please and I promise LLL will be updated again before the end of the week!