(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

The castle is dank, as castles often seem to be. Torches gutter in the draft, and down along a corridor that ends in blackness, a door creaks open on ancient, rusted hinges.

Two Death Eaters step out, looking both ways before striding nonchalantly down the corridor and into another room further down.

Once inside, Nymphadora Tonks removes her mask and pulls a half-loaf of bread out of her robe pocket.

"All I can say is, somebody better bloody well rescue us, 'cause I don't fancy buddying up to these nutters any longer than I sodding well have to."

She rips the loaf in two and hands the other half to Bill.

Comments

[clumsy_auror]

Tonks makes herself a little taller -- not so many women here, she imagines, that people don't know who's who -- and stands next to Bill, arms crossed.

When everyone seems to have made their way inside, the two of them slip inside and take seats nearest the door.

Under her robe, Tonks wills her leg not to jiggle nervously.

[thecoolone]

Bill sits next to her and marvels briefly at the phenomenon of folding chairs: they're everywhere. They're ubiquitous. They're not worthy of marvel by any stretch of the imagination and he knows he's dehydrated at least and bloody hungry enough to eat a horse. And if he's feeling this way, Tonks must be as well.

Focus, Bill. Focus.

And he counts heads (26, 27, 28...) and stops as a Death Eater moves to the front of the room and clears his... no, her throat. Definitely a female, and Bill is surprised. He strains to listen, wondering if perhaps it's Bellatrix Lestrange or somebody else: he's been on the periphery of the whole fight. But now he's in the midst of it and he sits up, all attention on the woman at the head of the room.

And subtly, so very subtly, plays with the wand in his hand; he's got a feeling he's going to need a little bit of help here. Potentially. And always better to be prepared than not prepared, and he silently casts a little invisible spell he uses in the tombs to keep the heavy stone doors from closing all the way. There, of course, he does it for air supply. Here, he does it as a lifeline and silently thanks the goblin who taught it to him.

There was a purpose in sitting by the door.

"As you know," she says, "We have two hostages loose in this castle. They are potentially sitting in this room with us." She pauses as a general noise of disbelief and concern rises from the meeting attendees. The woman holds up her hand, though, silencing them. "No, no, I'm not going to ask us to unmask; that's our Lord's prerogative, not mine. But I want each and every one of you to be on alert, on high alert. Whomever captures them and brings them to me will earn special thanks from the Dark Lord himself. All I'm going to ask you to do now is expose your left forearms."

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Maybe a metamorphmagus can do this, but he can't.

Behind the mask, Bill's eyes widen in panic. Two, three steps to the door. We can make it. We can. And I won't leave you here, Tonks. I won't.

[clumsy_auror]

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck--

She can do this, not for very long but she can keep it up for long enough but Bill, sod it all, he can't.

And just as her heart sets up a rattling tattoo against her ribcage, everyone in the room stands, ready for inspection.

It might be the only cover they'll get.

Tonks pulls the wand, discreetly, pretending to push up her sleeve. Instead, she points it in the direction of the Deather Eater next to her -- his legs, most specifically -- and sticks them to the floor.

Then she pushes Bill towards the door, quickly but quietly, and they exit the room.

"Phew," she says, when they're outside a few paces. "That was close--"

--and then, from inside the hall comes a great roar of enraged voices.

"Oh shit," Tonks whispers. "Run."

[thecoolone]

He doesn't need a second prompt: his hand firmly in hers, they set off down the hallway and he wishes he could hear the voices more clearly, but all he can hear is the thump-thump-thump of his heart. They make it to the end of the hall where it dead-ends; corridors of equal length lead both left and right.

There's more light to the left, and so he makes the turn and heads that way, feeling as if he's dragging Tonks along behind him. But if they can just get somewhere safe, they'll be all right.

Fleur. Bernard. Sunny. Ron. Harry. Hermione. Faith. Elaine. Tom. Dumbledore. Ginny. Mum. Dad. With every footstep another face passes before his eyes and finally, finally, there's a door to an open and empty room and he hurries into it with Tonks and closes the door as quietly as his nerves will allow.

"Seal it." His breathing is heavy and ragged; Tonks is flushed. But they've picked well: the room is full of windows. As Tonks does the spell he looks around frantically: there are drapes to hide behind, although they look as if they might be housing a Doxy infestation. But the windows... the windows...

"Tonks. This is Dover." The cliffs, gleaming and nearly pearlescent through the ancient leaded-glass windows, drop off sharply into the sea just outside.

His mind is bombarded and his thoughts are spinning. Dover, Dover, Dover, what is the bloody timetable on the ferry? If we can get out of here, we can... we might..

And then there's a rattling at the door. As one, they raise their wands, waiting.