(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.

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[thecoolone]

Bill doesn't like wearing the mask; he doesn't like it at all.

But really, after they'd thought twice about what they were doing, surprised to see the door unguarded the moment they walked out -- and went back to get that Death Eater's mask and robes -- a plan of sorts presented itself to them both. It was a shame, Bill told the first 'compatriot' he saw, that the Weasley prisoner was such a berk; he might still be alive if he hadn't been so eager to protect this piece-of-shit Metamorphmagus. As a result he was under strictest orders to move her and no, it was nobody's business where he'd been told to take her.

And so, for the past however many hours it had been -- 20? 24? -- he and Tonks had been moving around the castle. Things were in a bit of disarray, what with the goings-on in Hogsmeade and it was apparent that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was not there yet, if he was even supposed to be there. And they'd managed to steal enough food to keep Tonks healthy (at least in passing), and so far to evade recapture although the word in the halls was that the hostages were both loose and probably under cover.

And in possession of wands.

Here, in the pantry, Bill finally removes his own mask and looks down at the wand in his hand. It's nothing like his own: this one is short and made of some dark wood. Most likely ebony. It's powerful: it vibrates in his hand in an unpleasant sort of way but it's better than nothing. So far, sheer nerve has got them through.

"No Apparating. Lumos Subtilis." The wand sends out a very narrow stream of light; he lets it play over the items on the shelves. A box of biscuits, a bottle of brandy (no, no brandy for Tonks), a jar of some type of nut butter, a small basket of fruit that was fresh perhaps a week ago but would do in a pinch.

"So." He speaks very softly so as not to be overheard and breaks off a piece of bread. It tastes like the sweetest thing in the world. "What do we do next? Do you think we can risk going outdoors, or... well, bloody hell, if I were running this, I'd have all the doors guarded. I don't think we should try that. Not yet. Can we make a portkey?"

[clumsy_auror]

Tonks chews contemplatively, poking around the shelves for any possible cups. Locating an old tin, she points the wand at it. "Aquatarae." Water pours from the tip, splashing into the slightly dusty cup. She takes a drink and then hands it to Bill.

"'S risky, with a wand not your own. Tricky enough when you're doing it with a wand you're familiar with -- one of these buggers, who knows where we'd end up?"

[thecoolone]

He nods.

"Still, better to be stuck moving about the castle rather than in a cell." He accepts the water gratefully, then fills the pockets of his robes with food items from the shelves. "You doing all right? No stomach pains?" He rests a hand on her shoulder.

When they were first taken, Tonks said she was glad Bill was there. Now he returns the favour. "I'm glad you're here, love. I'm glad you're here. I couldn't go through this again by myself."

He leans against the wall, pulling back the sleeve of his Death Eater robe and tears off a piece of his shirt-sleeve. "I want to get a note to them, Tonks. To Fleur and Bernard." Again, he scans the shelves and finds a knife; he presses the point of it to his fingertip until it bleeds. He scrawls a quick note on the torn cloth:

We're fine, promise. Be home soon, love. Your own Bill.

He waits for the blood to dry, then folds it into his pocket. "In case an owl comes by. I don't anticipate it, but if it does and we can convince it to find Fleur..." Bill shrugs. Fleur's safer than Bernard. The connection between the two of them are less widely known.

Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it proves useless in the long run. He pops the tip of his finger in his mouth, soothing it where he cut it.

"Where in the world do you suppose we are? Every now and then, I think I smell the ocean."

[clumsy_auror]

"No, I'm feeling all right, really. Just tired as hell, and about as jittery as I am would be with ten cups of coffee in me."

She watches him write the note, and sighs.

"They've places all over the UK, and beyond. And we're on a bloody great island, so smelling the sea doesn't get us very far, I'm afraid."

[thecoolone]

"Did you know you can smell the ocean standing at the banks of the Nile?" He grins slightly, at least, then eats some more of his bread and hands Tonks a banana that doesn't look too bruised. "Here, eat this. You need vitamins, you need variety in your diet. You need protein but that looks to be in scant supply here."

Then he stops, raising a finger to his lips. "Someone out there."

He freezes in place, willing whomever it is to just pass on by, pass on by. As noiselessly as possible, he puts the mask back on and pulls up the hood of his cloak.

[clumsy_auror]

Tonks does likewise, and motions for Bill to put the light out, in case it should shine under the door.

He does so, and they hold their breath as the footfalls near, and slow, and... pause.

Right outside the door.

The handle turns...

"Oi! No time for food!"

They both jump a little at the voice coming from down the corridor.

The handle stops turning, and a different voice pipes up, just outside the door. "Just a bit, I'm starved, we've been looking for ages!"

"Well, let's get summat from the kitchens at least, stuff in here ain't fresh."

"Ah! Right."

The footsteps and voices die off down the corridor, and there's a few long moments of heavy silence before Tonks sags against the shelves. "Fuck me in the ear, I'm gonna have a bloody heart attack at this rate. I nearly failed stealth, you know."

[thecoolone]

"It's all right."

His voice is muffled through the mask. "We need to move out of here."

They wait a few minutes until there are no more sounds at all, save the furious pounding of their own hearts. Adrenaline, Bill knows: keeps people on their toes.

"Ready?" Once Tonks is properly masked, he opens the door, looking round the hallway, up and down the corridor. Voices sound from the far end and he pulls Tonks out into the hall, walking at a far more leisurely pace than his racing heart dictates is wise. He turns to her. "So I told him, how are you supposed to walk through Diagon Alley with a straight face? All those foolish Muggle-borns and mudbloods." Bill keeps an iron grip on her arm, steering her through the halls. "Just wait. It will all work out; you know our side will be victorious this time."

He keeps up the inane, idle chatter all the way down the hall. It's better than staying quiet as they join the growing group of Death Eaters streaming into what looks as though it was once a ballroom; there's obviously a meeting about to begin.

Fuck, there are so many. He hovers by the entry to the door, not willing to go in just yet. "Need to take a seat by the door. Protocol, you know," he mutters idly to a black-clad figure jostling for entry.

[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.