Harry Potter: The Price of Silence.

Finally - fucking finally - Draco heard what he'd been waiting for; voices. Several low, urgent whispers. "Masks on gentlemen," he hushed. "This is supposed to be a stealth mission."

"Aye, aye captain," Theo said, using the skeletal arm to give Malfoy a theatrical salute before he slipped his mask in place.

Draco and Blaise did the same, and with a unison flick of their wrists, they all cast distorting charms on their voice boxes.

"Remember, this mission isn't about slaughter, it's about gathering intelligence," Draco whispered as he pressed his back against the wall. He craned his neck around the corner, eyeing his prey. Just as predicted, there were nine possible hostages in the caves; six men, three women. "We need to capture as many of them as possible."

Both the Gold Masks nodded.

"That means we need them all alive," Draco said sternly. Both he and Blaise turned to stare at Theo.

Theo's head whipped between his friends, feeling their accusatory glares, even through their masks. "What?"

"I mean it Theodore," Draco hissed. "No killing."

Theo gasped. "I would never! I am shocked! Utterly appalled that you would think-"

"I mean it, Nott! No. Bastard. Killing!"

There was a stretched silence. Theodore tapped his foot quietly on the floor and his fingers tightened and then relaxed around his wand. For a second, Draco thought he was going to disobey.

"Fine!" Theo raised his hand, palm towards Draco, and used the skeleton hand that he was refusing to let go of to draw an imaginary cross over his chest. "I solemnly swear - on my shrivelled black heart - that I will not intentionally kill one of the opposition."

"Thank you," Draco sighed.

"But if one of them happens to walk into my Avada, it's not my fault!"

The attack went exactly as Draco had anticipated it would.

As usual, Blaise had followed his orders religiously; he'd whipped around the corner the instant Malfoy instructed him to, and cast a strong - non-lethal - knock-back jinx that'd rendered two of the hostages unconscious. He'd quickly bound their wrists and legs with unbreakable chains, and then tied their restraints together neatly. Incapacitated. Alive. Bound so securely that they had no possible chance of escaping.

Yes, as expected, Blaise had proudly followed every instruction Draco had given, and - as usual - Theo had ignored every fucking one.

"Did you really have to kill that many?" Blaise seethed through gritted teeth while he banished the mess of blood and mangled flesh from his robes. "The Dark Lord will be furious. He wanted them all captured, not three out of nine!"

Theo shrugged. "He's a big boy, I'm sure he'll get over it," he said, dragging the bound bodies of the unconscious hostages through the tunnel and out of the exit at Westminster Underground Station.

As soon as they were outside, Draco tore his mask from his face, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, pulling the clean air deeply into his lungs, hoping to wash the stagnant odour that seemed fused to the walls of the tunnels.

His dragon was curled in a tight ball on London Bridge, her tail waving gently behind her while she chewed on the remains of a horse she'd picked up on the flight here. She reared her head as Theo approached her, and when he laid the hostages near her feet, she bared her fangs and a low rumbling sound emitted from low in her chest.

Theo dared to get a little closer. He reached his hand towards her - trying his luck - but his tail promptly flew between his legs when she snapped her teeth just inches from his face.

He jumped back, holding his hands up in surrender, and slowly stepped away. "Alright, alright! Don't get your scales in a knot!"

She kept growling until he was at least twenty feet away from her.

"She really doesn't like me, does she?" Theo asked.

"She doesn't like anyone," Blaise quipped, standing back as Malfoy levitated the hostages onto the dragons back, "apart from her Daddy."

Draco was quiet as he conjured an extra set of chains around their bodies, and secured them onto some of the spikes lining the dragon's spine. He didn't think they would wake up any time soon, but he thought it best not to risk it.

He mounted his dragon, and when he'd settled between her shoulders, she stretched her colossal wings, readying herself for the flight to Voldemort's base. Theo and Blaise would have to Apparate home.

"Malfoy," Blaise said. "I've been thinking."

"About?"

"Granger," he clarified quickly. "About how she got into your head.

Draco cocked a brow, intrigued. "Go on?"

"How much do you know about the blood ritual the Dark Lord used to bind her to you?"

"Only what he's deemed necessary," Draco admitted. "Only that it links her life to mine, and allows me greater access into her mind."

Blaise nodded thoughtfully. "Do you think it could link you in other ways? Perhaps there's more to it than he's led you to believe? I've been going through some of the ledgers in your family library-"

"Oh just spit it out would you?!" Theo snapped. "Some of us have better things to do than stand around here all day, gossiping like old women!"

"Go on then!" Draco hissed, irritated. Theo might have been one of his oldest friends, but his patience was steadily drying out for the sarcastic Gold Mask. If Theo didn't bite his tongue soon, he would risk losing it. "Run along, off you go, before I think of a suitable hex to punish you for your insubordination today."

A scowl snapped its way onto Theo's usually expressionless features. His lip curled, he took a step forward and pointed his wand at Draco.

His dragon growled again. Her gums retracted as she took an aggressive step towards Theo, causing the very foundations of the bridge to shudder under her weight.

Theo Immediently lowered his wand and took several cautionary - and smart - steps back. He glared at Draco for several seconds, squared his shoulders, and then apparated away with a violent crack.

"So?" Draco asked as soon as Theo disappeared. "What's your theory?"

Blaise met his eyes. "It's only a theory at this point. I'm not even sure if its possible. The circumstances are quite unique, so I'm not sure how accurate a hypothesis it is." He fastened the cufflinks on his robes while he spoke, a habit he'd picked up years ago. It meant his thoughts were muddled, and Blaise often worked through that inner mess of thoughts by straightening his outward appearance. If his attire and expression were organised, then his mind would quickly organise itself to do the same. "I believe- and again, I'm not sure how possible this is - that she channelled your magic when she touched you, and then used it against you."