"Vendo Oculi Utriusque?" suggested Draco, almost diffidently as he stepped back. "That shouldn't interfere with whatever the Dark Lord wants to do, later."
"Oh, that will work admirably well." Lucius pointed Harry's wand and repeated the Latin words Draco had just said.
And that was the last thing Harry saw. Darkness descended like shutters over his vision, snapping shut, blocking out all hope of sight. Enraged, he struggled against the chair still holding him in place, curses breaking over his teeth as he strained with all his might.
"Should we let the blind boy up?" Chuckling, Lucius didn't wait for an answer. "I think not, considering all the trouble he's put me to this year. Look at him! Entirely too defiant. Well, that will soon change. Time to fulfil the rest of your vow, Draco. Just as well, really. The Dark Lord didn't appreciate his spirit, last time. Yes, it would be wise to... soften Potter up a bit. And really, Muggle tortures are so very tedious. Cruciatus is in order."
Draco's laugh was curt. "And you've arranged it so I have no alternative. Clever, Father."
"Potter's entirely too soft-hearted," spat Lucius. "It's ten times more likely to break his spirit when it comes from a friend. A brother. So of course it had to be you."
"Of course," said Draco dryly. "Will once be enough, do you think?"
"Don't be cheeky, Draco." The man's voice hardened as he went on speaking. "To practical matters, then. I know you can't help but resent my stratagem with the Portkey. So while I know you must of course attack Potter or die, I've taken measures to be sure that's all you can do. I've had your wand for weeks, you understand. You aren't the only Malfoy who can brew a potion restricting its use. I assume I make myself clear?"
"Very," said Draco, a little bitterly. "I noticed how well it worked against the snakes, Father. I'll need my other wand before I go, you realise. One that works only against Harry Potter isn't terribly useful in the greater scheme of things."
"You will have it, as soon as you've shown him, and me, that you hate him, after all. Cruciatus requires intent, don't forget. Of course, you should hate him. You should have, all along."
"How could I?" asked Draco, his voice thrumming with anger. "I needed him! What did you expect me to do? You were trying to kill me!"
"You deserved as much after betraying your blood for a half-blood!" said Lucius in a low snarl of a voice. But then his tone became gentler. Almost... fatherly. "Besides, Draco, I was never truly going to kill you. I merely wanted to get you home so I could make you see sense."
Draco's voice, almost cracking with stress, seemed to be made of nothing but desperation and pain. "I see it, all right? At this point, it would be hard to miss! Potter's magic is unreliable at best, Dumbledore's a fool, and Snape couldn't protect me, after all. He probably hasn't even figured out yet that we're in France. I'll do better making my own way from now on."
Lucius made a clicking noise. "Oh, Draco... you know, I could still tell the Dark Lord that you've seen the error of your ways. I can't bring you before him now, of course, but if you came on your own, at his invitation...?"
"To be killed?" Draco's brief laugh sounded bitter. "I don't think so."
"Ah, well. If you're determined to live without allies, then so be it. Gibby? Give Master Draco his wand."
For a moment, Harry heard nothing but silence. And then Draco's voice echoed in the room, his tone all of a sudden almost... loving.
"You were right, Father. It does sing with my magic."
Lucius' reply rang with confidence. "Potter there doesn't believe you can cast with it, you know. He thinks you aren't still a true Malfoy. I suppose he'll soon know differently, eh?"
"Yes." Harry heard footsteps approaching him, and the swish of a wand being waved in practise strokes. And then, Draco's voice again, his tones cruel, his words mocking. "Scared, Potter?"
The question threw Harry back in time. He blinked, startled, trying to believe what it seemed like he was hearing. It was more than a little difficult, after Draco had taken an Unbreakable Vow to hurt him, and spilled his secrets, and almost thrust a spoon beneath his eyeball, and then, if that wasn't enough, been the one to suggest a blindness spell!
It was hard to have faith in anything, after all that.
But what if it had all been one long feint? What if Draco had been working towards this end since the moment he'd entered the room? Angling, manoeuvring, saying and doing anything Lucius required, as long as it would bring him to this moment, when he could stand before Harry, a wand in hand, and taunt him with that very question?
So that Harry would understand, and be prepared.
And Harry was prepared. "You wish," he spat back, keeping to the code Draco had adopted.
So his brother would know he was ready.
He heard the wand moving in a violent arc, and then, the most welcome word in the whole world.
"Serpensortia!"
Harry couldn't see the snake, but he could feel the air rushing out of the way as something flew towards him, landing right in his lap. And the moment he sensed the snake, real and heavy atop his legs, Parseltongue bloomed inside him like a flower straining towards the light.
"Give me my wand and turn to stone!" he hissed, thrusting both his hands up in the direction Lucius' voice had last come from. Bound as he was, it was awkward, but then again, aim probably didn't even matter very much. He'd keyed the first spell to his own wand, which Lucius would still be holding onto. The second spell couldn't help but follow in the wake forged by the first.
Harry's wand sailed into his right hand, though his arms were still held fast by the horrible chair.
He heard another noise then. A thud, something heavy hitting the hard floor, the noise only slightly muffled by the opulent rug. Then all was still and quiet. Eerie. Like a tomb.
Harry ran a hand along the snake's back, murmuring assurances to the viper that he was no threat. He was soothed by the smooth feel of the snake and it seemed that his words soothed the snake as well. It became docile, its muscles relaxing against Harry's legs.
That done, Harry twisted his hands to point his fingers at the arms of the chair keeping him in place. "Release me," he hissed.
But the chair didn't react.
Draco made a strangled noise, his voice emerging weak and shaky, like he was just about ready to collapse. "What are you saying n- now? Lucius looks g-good and fr-frozen..."
"I'm talking to the chair," said Harry, focussing on Draco's voice to help him shift back into English.
"G- G- Gibby, make the chair let Harry Potter g- g- go."
Harry heard agitation and squeaks as Gibby insisted that the chair had been spelled by the master himself and wouldn't do the bidding of a house-elf.
"I- it'll listen to me, I think," said Draco. "Let me just... oh, shite. This fucking wand can't do anything but cast nasty spells at you! It wasn't even any use down in the pit, not that fucking Fibby there let me keep it for very long. Hold on, Harry... I- I have to go get the other one... from h- h- him."
Footsteps, barely audible against the rug, crossed the room.
Harry felt like he might scream. What was taking so long? He struggled against the chair, only to feel the wooden arms dig sharply into his thighs. He was pretty sure he must have an interesting collection of bruises by now. Thank God for the snake in his arms; petting it was about the only thing that helped calm him.
"Here," said Draco after a moment, his voice right alongside. Distracted, Harry hadn't heard him approaching. "Liberslui."