Chapter 12: Heed Your Words

Pyrrhus woke up to shouting, which was often a bad sign, considering he was dragon and all, it was more often about stupid wizards arguing who got the spoils of war — intestines, blood, eggs, heart, etc. — you get it. Cracking open an eye, the first thing the male felt was the many wrappings of bandages over his torso and thighs, figures for a wizard curse to cause so much damage. He was so getting Hitsugaya to heal this shit for him, the captain owed him for saving his bae-not-bae. Or whatever the fuck those two were.

Groaning as he felt like someone had broken his skull, he sat up, trying to stop mentally stabbing the shouting people on the other side of the gods-damned curtain. News flash, they weren't fucking soundproof. Idiots.

Deciding that waking up half-mummified and his face burning with fever with no one at his bedside, (the bedside manners here were horrendous) he also made the executive decision that his limit of bullshit was bypassed a century ago and grabbed the closest thing to him, which was a jug of water, and chucked it at the floral curtain that was offending him with it's existence alone. True to it's aim, the jug splashed on the ground before crashing into the curtain, knocking it over (take that you stupid excuse of a tablecloth) to reveal a restrained Malfoy, flanked by Snape on one side and Dumbledore, McGonagall and Potter on the other with the Minister of Magic smack in the middle of the bullshit.

Snape looked like he usually did — hating the world but the dragon sympathized, he hated the world too. Dumbledore looked displeased as he looked like he was trying to get a grip of the situation, while McGonagall hovered over Potter like a mother hen, not too subtly as he was kinda behind her, shamefaced. Draco and the cranky Minister, who was flanked by two other Aurors, looked like they wanted the world to burn because of the existence of humanity — again, he could relate.

"As fascinating as your little discussion is, it really isn't." Pyrrhus growled at them, gesturing to the exit with a thumb. "If you lot want to have your little heart-to-heart, I demand you to take it outside. Any questions?"

"Pyrrhus! You're awake!" Draco recovered first, running to the dragon's bedside, grey eyes bright with relief.

"Gee. I couldn't tell." The drake huffed, ruffling the blonde's hair as he smirked.

"Mr. Pyrrhus, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore questioned, as they all moved to near his bed, making the dragon feel like it was an investigation that was off-grid — which it totally was. "What do you last remember?"

"Been through worse and been through better, so not that bad." He admitted bluntly, gesturing to his torso and thighs before his eyes narrowed at them. "Why so keen on asking me what happened?"

"We are trying to establish on what exactly happened in this conflict since you, a guest was injured, we believe that it is most fitting for you to be the one who determines the punishment." Dumbledore said after he recounted Harry and Draco's account of what happened after Pyrrhus requested (demanded) for everyone but Snape, Dumbledore, Potter and Draco to wait outside with security measures that would have made Hitsugaya proud. In synopsis, Harry thought that Draco was responsible for a prank on Gryffindor (if only a Hex on Bell was so) and had tried to get a confession out of him but Draco was insistent of being innocent which escalated to a duel to which prompted Harry to use a new spell he was not entirely sure of what it did, leading him to be in this sorry state. But Draco had seen his bleeding form and retaliated with one of the three Unforgivable Curses — the one that Pyrrhus was pretty fond of. When it wasn't directed at him.

Harry faced with multiple detentions that extended to nearly two months while Draco was cleared of Azkaban due to being a minor and such, but needed to be punished in someway as well even if it were an act of defense. Dumbledore suggested detentions.

Pyrrhus resisted the urge to laugh. He failed. "Wow. Hitsugaya wasn't kidding on how lax you guys are. Then again, this is the same society that deluded themselves into thinking their enemy didn't exist for a few years."

Smirking at the infuriated look on Harry's face and the unsurprised ones on Slytherins and Dumbledore, the dragon continued, blood eyes on the Gryffindor. "Harry, is it? You're probably beating yourself over this, aren't you?"

"Yes." Harry mumbled, nodding.

"You shouldn't be." The dragon shrugged, ignoring the shocked looks as he glared with the ferocity of his true nature. "Because if you didn't do what you did, you would have been dead long before Hitsugaya decides to kill you off and believe me when I say, he doesn't care if you are. You kill to save yourself and those you love, and next time, do not miss. Nor you will have an opportunity to next time. Harry Potter will be punished for using a curse that he did not know the consequences of — which is the detentions that Professor Snape deems suitable, since you are the one to start the mess."

"And don't think you can get out of this, blondie." The dragon continued, turning his glare to Malfoy. "You know better than to leave yourself open like that. Hitsugaya will deal with you personally. But until his return, you will serve a week of detention."

"Wait a minute!" Harry cut in. "How is that fair? Malfoy used an Unforgivable on me."

"So?" Pyrrhus cupped a hand, as he leaned against the pillows. "At least that was a known nonfatal one — you used one that was unknown, therefore, automatically more dangerous than what is known. In Japan, if you, a half-blood had attacked a pureblood with Draco's connections to Hitsugaya, you would have been expelled for slander and insubstantial accusations long before this happened, not mention any action Draco had taken after, even murder, would have been excused as self-defense. And had you not confronted him, you both wouldn't be here. So, you want to talk fairness, Harry Potter?" The dragon regarded him coldly. "Life is not fair. All you can do is to ensure that you are not on the side that does not end up with the short end of the stick at the end. And this time, just be glad that you have your life intact."

Having said his piece, the grumpy dragon shooed them out, with Madam Pomfrey on the wheel — insisting that her patient needed bedrest. Finally alone, after he faked sleep for a few minutes to ensure that the nurse would leave him be, with a hateful glare that the curtain that was repaired and returned to its place; Pyrrhus pulled out a familiar emerald ring, twirling it in between his too big fingers.

"I hope you know what you're doing, boya."

Tia Harribel thought the same in less laymen terms, as she arrived in her faux body in the desolate clouds, eyes locked on a dreary but enriched mansion. A shard of ice dangled from one of her three braids, giving away her current allegiance as she could sense the once ally within, controlling her subordinates. Irked as she may have been at that prospect, none of it was expressed in those tanned features.

Flicking her hair back in the cold air, she readied her hackles, zanpakuto heavy on her back as jade eyes met silvery moons, framed by strawberry blonde. The two women gauged each other before nodding in acknowledgement. "You have arrived quite quickly. A worthy subordinate."

A cheshire smile graced those painted lips. "Your praise is appreciated, Tia Harribel. Taicho is anything but thorough in his orders. But whether they are clear, is debatable."

The espada huffed, agreeing. She was told to come here, leaving the intent obscure — only to find that her subordinates were here, under the thumb of that annoyance of a scientist. It was an oversight to allow him the burden of living, she thought as she unsheathed Tiburon, the shark spirit purring in her mind.

A week ago, behind the library desk in Hogwarts, Hitsugaya twirled a ring on his left hand, expression devilishly coy and eyes glowing with knowing mirth as they met her own. Reclaim your people, avoid too much collateral. You and I are not the heroes in this tale.

So, it was in reference to that insect. Not that he was here. Landing lightly on the white gravel, she reminded herself that she was invading living humans. How fragile. Slashing her blade with little reiatsu, she blinked lightly as the doors of the manor were reduced to cinders. Ah, a bit overkill.

The shark in her mind snorted. A bit?

I asked for silence. She spoke internally, her jacket furling around her as her white pants flared around her tabi. Her shark complied, the cool flow of water in her veins reassuring as a man in black robes and sleep-disheveled hair ran up to them, hand gripping a wand and eyes wide. "What the —?! Who the bloody hell are you lot?! How did you—?!"

Her companion swiftly tore the man a new one, slicing his wand into halves before sending him a swift roundhouse kick, indenting the far wall of the hall as she held him by the throat. "We are asking the questions, if you do not mind. Where is Szayelaporro Granz?"

The wizard choked. "Ugh... Who?"

His confusion is palatable, pup. Tiburon's commanding voice hummed in her ears, soft yet firmly whimsical. The subservients are at a need-to-know basis, after all. Your own school is the same.

Matsumoto must have come to the same conclusion, striking at the man's neck, effectively knocking him out. Ah, yes. The difference between hollows and shinigami. In her personal opinion, they were thin ones.

In their mild pause (to them, since they were shunpoing and sonidoing their movements), a gathering of men and women appeared from the large doors that served to enter deeper in the mansion, led by one tall and very pale figure with blonde hair. "Who dares to —?!"

Interrupting the insect in mid-speak, Tia Harribel carefully nicked the flesh under the man's neck, her words cold as she appeared suddenly, his life in her grasp. "I do not have any business with you, insect. Inform me the whereabouts of whom I demand, and I will allow you to live. And be forewarned, your weak magic cannot touch me, nonetheless, kill me. So, I ask you again, where is Szayelaporro Granz and Hitsugaya Toushirou?"

A silence reigned as the men and women of the Death Eaters stared widely. That is until a yell took their attention. Bellatrix Lestrange nursed a broken arm, but pointed her wand at the lieutenant of the Tenth Division with equally hard glares as Matsumoto held a scoff in her lips. "Unhand my brother-in-law, you filth! Or your pretty friend dies!"

"How loyal you are, Bellatrix Lestrange, daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black; to defend your in-laws in such ferocity." The shinigami laughed, bitter and mocking. "One could only wonder, how does it feel I wonder to sell yourself to your lord when your husband is right there? Such loyalty."

"How dare you… accuse my lord of these lies, you deceitful harlot!" Shaking with anger, the espada was surprised that the woman did not lunge, snarling with hate and sadistic need to tear. The hollow could relate, but she was, fortunately, not on that side. "Your precious little captain was so easily captured in our clutches, and you dare to infer that my lord is pathetic. Look at your own, blondie! A mere boy yet dares to go against my lord! How—!"

Snap. There it is.

With sheer strength, Matsumoto broke the wand into jagged splinters, fingers undeterred as they flexed with dexterity, wrapping over the witch's throat as she squeezed with agonizingly slowness, eyes so similar to her captain. "My captain has ten times the power in a single strand of his hair than your master will ever cultivate in his pathetic life, you sadistic wench. As much I would like to scalp you for such slander against my superior, I have a schedule to keep — my nails need to be filed. Answer the questions."

Bellatrix spat a glob of blood at her cheek. Matsumoto smirked, so icy that it could have been her superior's. "Cute."

Wiping aside the blood, the strawberry blonde unclipped the ice pin in her hair before crushing it. With loud shatters, Bellatrix watched in horror as more than half of their reinforcements were depleted, reduced to shards of ice including her sister and brother-in-law. Snarling, she lunged at the blonde, straddling her as she stabbed a knife next to the lieutenant's face into the floorboards.

"You bitch! What did you do to them?!" Flipping them over, Matsumoto bound her golden chains of demon magic, tabi-foot on her throat.

"Do not move, or I will make sure that move will be your last." Tia Harribel hissed at the remnants of Death Eaters too shocked to really move, dusting the ice chips that was formerly Lucius Malfoy.

"And you. What makes you think that your dysfunctional family and in-laws were here anyway?" The voluminous woman had a surge of satisfaction at the witch's choked cry. "My captain has been removing your lord's forces for weeks now, all under his pasty, nonexistent nose."

"The Dark Lord—!"

"Your Dark Lord is fortunate to have lived this long." A wicked smile erupted as she stepped harder on the pulsing neck. "And I'm afraid, that luck has run out."

The best hiding spot is one in plain sight. Toushirou told Goyle once as he and the rest of the Slytherin House was ushered into the Great Hall, judging from the confused looks all around. No one knew what was going on. But everyone knew it was something foreboding, it was almost physical in the atmosphere. Malfoy looked especially troubled as he bulldozed his way through to the blonde, breaking into a whisper among the commotion.

"Malfoy, what's happening? Where is Toushirou?"

The pureblood shook his head. "I don't know." Goyle looked to the older male as Pyrrhus made the same gesture. "What the hell is going on, then?"

"Your guess is as good as mine at this point." Draco huffed, glaring at everyone and nothing at all. "He just… left."

Goyle once again cursed the fact of nature that his friend was as cryptic as ever. Even to his own boyfriend. But for some reason, Pyrrhus looked… calm… almost resigned. Why?

His beady eyes narrowed. It could have been chalked up that Draco was too distracted by Hitsugaya's disappearance to pay the older male much attention, but it was clear that the male knew something, something that he did not tell them. Meeting Blaise, Nott, and Crabbe in gaze, the four boys corralled them into a random hall, Millicent and Pansy following with suspicious looks exchanged. Beknownst to them, a green-eyed boy trailed after them, hidden under a cloak.

"What the hell do you know?" Blaise interrogated immediately, dark eyes glaring at the red-eyed dragon. "What the hell did Toushirou tell you?"

Pyrrhus perked up an eyebrow while Malfoy glanced at the both of them, confused while the others surrounded the two, vying no escape. "What makes you so sure that he told me anymore than the rest of you, brats?"

"Don't be daft." Nott cut in, pushing up his glasses. "You are way too calm."

"So would the control freak if he were here."

"If Hitsugaya were here, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Malfoy snapped, his patience thin as he too turned to the dragon, expression bitter. "You may have not known something when you got here, but Toushirou would have, at the very least, told you something." If anyone noticed the bitter undertone, no one voiced it.

Ah, fuck it. Pyrrhus cursed, frowning darkly. Curse you, control freak for putting this burden on me. Reaching into a pocket, the dragon pulled out a ring that was too small for his fingers, silver and encrusted with emeralds. Goyle took in a sharp breath, eyes on Malfoy as the boy paled, trembling fingers curling over the cold metal. "He told me to give to you once your patience had run out, once you pulled your head from the dirt. Get yourself together."

"Where." Draco demanded, before he swallowed, white-knuckled and remembering his posture. "Where is he?"

Pyrrhus shook his head. "I really don't fucking know, brat. He stopped talking to me three days after he left — dropped off our mental link. Gone. Hitsugaya suspected something like this could have happened, so he has contingencies in place. That much I would bet my own blood on. What those are though, I'm not in the fucking loop about. But what I am in the loop about is why Dumbledore is amassing us now and why he asked me to be here."

"And why is that?" Millicent said with a clipped tone, glare cold.

The dragon met it dead on, ruby eyes glowing in the dim lighting.

"Your parents have been found out." Hidden in the shadows, Harry Potter's eyes widened along with the rest of the youths. "Hitsugaya believes in no perfect plan. So, he gave the Headmaster a series of crystals — each one symbolizing a different mode of danger — and the one that broke is the green one, an hour ago. Green for your house, meaning that something had revealed that Voldemort's forces are lesser than what they actually were."

"Then—!" Crabbe cut himself off. Clearly, the implications of the situation were not lost even on the densest of them.

Pyrrhus nodded. "There's more. He told us, if he was unconscious for three days, one of the crystals would break. If it was only an information leak, the color would only fade."

The world was spinning. Malfoy realized slowly as the words sunk. Toushirou was… he went to see Voldemort. He left the ring. He was unconscious for three days. Three days. He left the ring. He had a mental link to Pyrrhus. Just like him, even if it was often closed off. Voldemort knew that his father and mother were not by his side but in St. Mungo's under pseudonyms, in comas induced by the Living Death. He left the ring. He wasn't coming.

"You must promise to never take it off." The sound of his own voice startled him. Seeing this particular memory, could have any other time brought a smile to his lips. But now, he could only stare as he and Toushirou lounged on the railing where they shared their first kiss like actors in an elaborate play, a scene that took place oh so long ago.

The memory of his love twitched his lips upwardly, taking the ring. "Proposing me when we are merely children? How bold of you."

He rolled his eyes, holding up his own hand. "Hardly. This is a promise."

"A promise ring?" A spark of mischief glowed in those teal seas. "You wound me, Draco. You accuse me of being unfaithful to you? So much so, that you see a need to remind others of relationship?"

A blush colored his cheeks, face hot. "Is that so wrong?"

Ah, this moment; he remembered vividly. Startled by the admittance mostly, he looked up from his embarrassment to see the transfer stare at him, stunned. Snow hair rumpled from their nap earlier after a small (not really) make-out session, lips so cold and sinful that Draco would have jumped into Hell willingly, and finally those swirls of blue and green, tempests that one could have lost themselves by mere glances — he was his. And the world, gods-be-damned, would know it.

With the boldness he did not know he had, he walked up to the transfer and slipped the ring into his finger. "You haven't answered me."

Toushirou stared, still speechless. "What?" Those lips whispered softly.

"You haven't answered me. Is it so wrong? For me to claim you as mine?"

Those sinful lips, they pursed before lithe fingers intertwined with his. "No. However, you must be aware, Draco. Others will try to claim me even with yours, as willing as I may be to be yours."

He pursed his own, noting how close their faces were. "Then, with this ring, I, Draco Lucius Malfoy of the House of Malfoy, vow to you, Hitsugaya Toushirou, captain of the Tenth Division and heir to the House of Yamamoto; I will find you wherever you may go."

"Heed your words, Draco Malfoy." Those lips met his own, reenacting their first.

The ring was heavy in his hands, brought back to his reality. Toushirou was not here. He was unconscious, somewhere, for three days now. His words whispered in his ears. Heed your words, Draco. Come find me. Do good upon your vow.

"Draco?" Pyrrhus broke him from his reverie.

"What?" He croaked out, more stable he was. "What is it?" Now what?

Pyrrhus must have known he was not entirely there when the others were conversing, so he took a breath. "Dumbledore is going to tell everyone, that the Dark Lord is headed here (Why here? Draco asked Toushirou when he read over one of the plans. The captain quirked an eyebrow. The moment Dumbledore, I or Potter are killed or even disappear, the morale would be so low, Hogwarts will no longer be the fortress it appears to be. And where is better to gloat of it than where it all started?) and we must arm ourselves and prepare for that. But you know that the Slytherins will be conflicted. Do we fight or stand down?"

(Fight. Draco answered weeks ago, in the plan-making, the privacy of their room. His lover hung at the edge of the window, undeterred by the danger. Toushirou looked at him. The choice will be yours to choose. I will not force your hand, only know that it may not end in the way we all wish. Draco threw a book at him for his pessimism.)

Draco could not find the will that threw the book. Instead, he saw the desperation and resignation in those teal eyes he could have stared at for hours. His eyes met the ring of emeralds in his limp fingers.

Heed your words, Draco.

"Crabbe. Inform the seniors of the situation. Find me the others who have family in the Dark Lord's remaining forces. Goyle will accompany you. Blaise, Nott; you two inform Snape of our movements, and bring him to the Slytherin Common Room. We will be having conversation. No one but McGonagall and Dumbledore may accompany. Milly, you and Pansy, go to our dorms and grab the weapons we have used in the manor over the break. I will get us the permission needed. Go."

In amazement, Harry watched as they all walked off to their orders blindly — completely trusting the blonde that looked like he was having a panic attack a minute ago, all because of a ring. Then, blood-red eyes froze him under the cloak, bright and angry.

"Harry Potter. Don't have enough detentions to be bold enough to eavesdrop?"

Cover foiled, Harry removed the cloak to see an unimpressed Malfoy and annoyed Pyrrhus. For a moment, the Gryffindor was certain that he was going to be skinned alive just from those eyes. But fortunately, his mind was still spinning over several facts. Malfoy and Hitsugaya were together. They were not working for Voldemort. And somehow, Voldemort found something out about their parents. Malfoy and Hitsugaya are together. They weren't working for Voldemort. Dumbledore knew. And so did Snape. They weren't working for Voldemort.

"… You and Hitsugaya… are…?"

Malfoy glared at him with a condescending sneer. "What we are is none of your eavesdropping, mud-blooded business, Potter. Shouldn't you be serving some kind of detention?"

"Shut it, both of you." Pyrrhus cut in, glaring at both of them, cowing the insult fest before it began. "We have to get to the Common Room to convene with the old man and his party. We do not have time for this. Potter, the only reason that you are standing where you are and have remained there, is that because Hitsugaya wants it like that. Now that you are also up to speed (Not really. Harry mumbles. He is ignored.) — I'll spell out some things for you as we go. We don't have time to hold your fucking hands anymore, boys. Since the one who has been doing the hand-holding is gone."