Close Encounters of the Muggle Kind, Part 2
Era: Post-HBP
Rating: R for descriptions of violence/gore
Length: 200 words
Characters: Draco Malfoy (aged 19), Harry Potter
A/N: You don't need to have read the previous entry to read this, nor do I think they'll be more parts to this. Just thought it would be nice to have a mirror entry for when Bellarix's nephew first meets a Muggle. WARNING: mention of possible Character Death (not in an especially angsty way though).
The first time Draco Malfoy properly encounters a Muggle he’s with Potter, of all people.
They’re running as hard as they can across a muddy field, both of them panting for breath, sweat mingling with the dust and blood on their skin and clothes. Draco’s once ash-blond hair is a grimy, greasy mess and - oh Merlin - they’ve left Snape, Severus, behind them, facedown in a pool of blood and surrounded by furious Death Eaters.
“Come on!” Potter grabs his hand as Draco staggers, and still they run. Surely there can’t be any more Death Eaters after them. Even mad Aunt Bella, who let out such a terrifying screech at his betrayal, will have given up. Won’t she?
Suddenly they can’t run any more - it’s too much. Gasping, they slow down and begin to walk away from the field, until they stumble upon a small cottage. Shrugging, the ever-resourceful Potter walks up to the front door and knocks.
A middle-aged man answers and speaks, his voice full of caution. “Can I help you boys?” They look at each other and Draco surprises himself by answering, seven centuries of breeding behind him.
“If you please sir, we’re in need of some help.”
Rating: R for descriptions of violence/gore
Length: 200 words
Characters: Draco Malfoy (aged 19), Harry Potter
A/N: You don't need to have read the previous entry to read this, nor do I think they'll be more parts to this. Just thought it would be nice to have a mirror entry for when Bellarix's nephew first meets a Muggle. WARNING: mention of possible Character Death (not in an especially angsty way though).
The first time Draco Malfoy properly encounters a Muggle he’s with Potter, of all people.
They’re running as hard as they can across a muddy field, both of them panting for breath, sweat mingling with the dust and blood on their skin and clothes. Draco’s once ash-blond hair is a grimy, greasy mess and - oh Merlin - they’ve left Snape, Severus, behind them, facedown in a pool of blood and surrounded by furious Death Eaters.
“Come on!” Potter grabs his hand as Draco staggers, and still they run. Surely there can’t be any more Death Eaters after them. Even mad Aunt Bella, who let out such a terrifying screech at his betrayal, will have given up. Won’t she?
Suddenly they can’t run any more - it’s too much. Gasping, they slow down and begin to walk away from the field, until they stumble upon a small cottage. Shrugging, the ever-resourceful Potter walks up to the front door and knocks.
A middle-aged man answers and speaks, his voice full of caution. “Can I help you boys?” They look at each other and Draco surprises himself by answering, seven centuries of breeding behind him.
“If you please sir, we’re in need of some help.”