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[lionpassant]

If Peter were in my situation right now, he’d probably have this all sorted. I don’t. I'm not Peter.

I don’t know where I am right now. But I know one thing and it’s that this place is not Narnia. Far from it.

Answers. Answers would be good.

I have to sort this out myself.

First. Where am I?

Comments

surprise action is nothing like surprise buttsecks I promise.

[serpentmarked]

[And, because Draco is - when push comes to shove, more or less a coward, (more rather than less) and because he is also quite angry, that proclamation causes him to do three things.

Apparate to Xanadu.

Hex the bloody bastard before he can so much as blink and--

Realize, quite abruptly, that this was a very bad idea.]

OF COURSE YOU CARE or maybe you're just using me for the lulz. o u meaniepants.

[serpentmarked]

[No response to that. He just shoves at the other boy's foot, because he's really not liking this whole idea of someone standing over him. It's a Slytherin thing.]

Fine.

[And that's as much a concession as he ever plans to make, Edmund.]

Let me up.

AHAHAHA I LAUGH AT YOUR FOOLISHNESS

[lionpassant]

[Edmund's answer is to push him down even deeper into dirt. He doesn't look very convinced. He knows better than to simply let someone go on good word alone. Good word is usually never good enough. It does little to abate Edmund's worries.]

What promise do I have you won't get out your little stick and try that little magic thing again?

DON'T I'LL SMITE YOU I CAN DO THAT YOU KNOW.

[serpentmarked]

I suppose you'll just have to trust me.

[His voice is a bit of a snarl - though it's breathlessly said and in that same higher, panicked pitch. But mentally he upgrades Edmund from Gryffindor to Ravenclaw.]

DON'T YOU COW. THAT'S NOT VERY NICE

[lionpassant]

[Edmund doesn't find the prospect very amusing. The idea of trusting Draco is a bit dim to Edmund, but he supposes that he could just as easily have Draco back on the ground if he has to. He doesn't lift his foot immediately. Instead lets it linger against Draco's chest ss warning in event that Draco does decide to destroy their little agreement.]

Watch it, Malfoy.

I'M NOT VERY NICE IN GENERAL BB WHY DO YOU HAVE AN ISSUE WITH THIS?

[serpentmarked]

[For a moment he says nothing, just glares. Sullenly. Draco Malfoy: poor loser extraordinaire. He's going to go home and clean his (admittedly tattered) clothing. Possibly more than once, just to get the fact that he's been tusselling on the ground with a Muggle.]

I'll watch whatever I please. Now let me up.

HECK NO. BRING IT ON SWEETCAKES

[lionpassant]

Alright then.

[Edmund has the decency to shake his head at Draco's antics. The whining of a premature babe. Such a child, Edmund chides within. Just because Edmund is slightly younger in body, though none as much in stature, it causes Edmund never to doubt the level of maturity he possesses in comparison to the other boy's. It's a lot like his own, back in the day. It causes Edmund to back off just a bit more, sympathizes just slightly.

He removes his foot as promised, places it safely back on the ground, giving Draco a steady eye all the while. A backlash is somewhat expected, though not really. Edmund expects Draco, with his dignity low and his odd sort of character, won't be doing anything for a while. At least, he'd rather Draco not.]

NO U!!!

[serpentmarked]

[He sits up, and makes some disparaging comment or other about the dirt as he brushes it off his chest, though his other hand reaches for his wand.

His fingers close around its handle, and he hesitates. And then he stuffs it in a pocket of his robe. He's fairly sure he could win in a proper duel - the wizarding sort, which is, in Draco's mind, the only kind of duel worth having, but if the other boy is going to insist on baser means he is, in a word, royally fucked.

Two words.

Oh, whatever.]

YES, ME.

[lionpassant]

[Edmund notices the rigidness in Draco's form, can sense the hesitance that years of living has made him acutely aware of. Edmund doesn't make a move. Just trusts. Blindly, for now. He does, however, appreciate the fact that Draco isn't trying to send another spell flying at his face after a moment passes.

Edmund isn't quite sure what to do now. He just gives Draco a look, a sympathetic sort of look, a pitying sort. Because, really, being on the ground in a nice field of sunflowers and having dirt all over what seems like a very battered robe isn't all that great, Edmund knows.

He tries to stifle a groan, hopes he doesn't regret what he's about to do. The Pevensie reaches out a hand, pulls Draco up by the wrist to straighten off the ground. Sees something that maybe he isn't supposed to see.]

[serpentmarked]

[Something he wasn't supposed to see kind of at all. When Edmund had first grabbed his wrist Draco had made an alarmed noise of protest that came out something like a hiss, but it was hardly a deterrent. Seconds later he was on his feet and jerking away from the other boy almost violently. There was no way the Mark was known here for what it was at home, but it was still his own personal, private damn business and like bloody hell he wanted some do-gooder Gryffin-- Ravenclaw wanna-be armed with any knowledge that could get back to him eventually, through whatever means.]

Did I say you could touch me, Muggle?

[His voice is no longer panicked or angry. Now it's just cold. But he's reaching for his wand again, half-turned away from Edmund as he glances out across a field of flattened sunflowers.]

WE'RE BREAKING ALL THE RULES

[lionpassant]

[Edmund drops Draco's wrist quick like it's coal. All of a sudden it burns. Hot and violent against his skin. It's electric. Edmund's fingers drops loose. They flex in and out of a grip as he pauses, has nothing to say to an obvious faux pas on his part alone. The mark, dark and seemingly burned into Draco's pale skin stands bold, a shock against skin until it's covered up back by a sleeve. It's barely there, a quick look and you'd miss it unless your eyes were sharp. If it weren't for the fact that Draco's reacting in such a hostile manner, Edmund would've doubted he'd seen anything at all.]

He's not apologetic usually, he doesn't like it to think he ever owes anyone an apology. Especially anyone beyond his circle of siblings. Today, Edmund can't help it when he lets slip out a word that doesn't come often.]

Sorry.

[Edmund remains quiet, isn't quite sure how to react to the cold threat in Draco's voice, so beyond the usual madness or desperation he's known so far.]

wtf @ ur internet

[serpentmarked]

[He glances back, eyes narrowed. There's no trace of irony in the word, but the fact that he's apologizing at all means that yes, he'd seen the Mark. He should obliviate him. It's not magic he hasn't done before, after all. Snape will probably-- well it doesn't matter what Snape might do, he's not here. But if he's going to do it eventually anyways, he might as well learn what he can from the conversation. His grip on his wand relaxes, and he forces his shoulders to do the same. Compartmentalizing. By the way the boy dodged his first curse, he's obviously good at reading body language, threating and perhaps otherwise.]

So who are you, really.

[He says it in a tone of idle conversation - bored, condescending. As if he isn't possibly about to care for the answer. And he doesn't, really. But he thinks some of the reason Edmund had apologized was some disgusting emotional prompting, like sympathy, and he knows that there is no better time to get answers out of people than when they're trying to help you. And Draco hasn't been in the

innit THE BIGGEST WHORE

[lionpassant]

Nobody special.

[He says it like it's true. It's no lie. Here, Edmund's nobody special. In this wide City, he's no one. Just another name and a face in a countless seas of endless names and faces. It's not like Draco will probably remember either way. It's best that way. But perhaps, Edmund think it might be nice to indulge him, for bothering him in the first place. His way of apology. It might just serve to help Draco relax ever further. An easy shrug follows, lazy, one-shouldered.]

Just someone who grew up in England.

[And more. Edmund doesn't add that last bit, knows better. That, and he thinks he's given Draco quite enough to work with for now. He turns the question back at the inquisitor.]

You?

[A glance up at Draco as Edmund works the tie off his neck, looser, finally manages to untangle the bloody thing and leaves it to hang on his neck free, unbidden.]

I concur. D:

[serpentmarked]

You think your accent escaped me?

[He gives the other boy an idle look, one eyebrow raised, lips curled in a sneer. Because honestly. If he looks half as daft as the other boy sounds, he might as well be Potter.]

*STABS ATZ IT*

[lionpassant]

Doubtful.

[Another shrug. Edmund's rolling his shoulders in mindless stretches. Routine after spars to relax the muscles.]

I was just wondering whereabouts you came--

[A pause. There's something about Edmund's question and Draco's answer that sinks in. Edmund snaps him a look in surprise. The worlds they're both from-- is the same?]

Wait. You know England?

BUT WHAT IF YOU JUST DESTROY IT ALL TOGETHER D:

[serpentmarked]

Well obviously my accent escaped you.

[Scoff, scoff.]

Of course I know England. Not the sort you're used to, I imagine, since you don't know anything about magic, or wizards.