Fire in the Night

When Dean had a few minutes of time to think to himself, he wondered how he'd come to be there. That led to thoughts about his capture, and he always, always found himself remembering.

The only reasoning for it that he could come up with was that the Death Eaters were acting on their hatred of Muggle-borns, and had gone for him because he was an underage wizard, not as trained as an adult, and someone whose death might shock Harry Potter. But that was all speculation; he wasn't really sure.

Dean distinctly remembered what had happened that night.

He'd been in his home, and Seamus had been there, and his mother had been gone for the night. He'd been talking to Seamus about school, and the attack on the Ministry, and all the chaos recently.

They'd had very little warning.

He'd had his wand on him, up his sleeve, but when the wall collapsed and figures emerged through the dust...well, there'd been little time to fight. Barely enough to get his wand out, really.

They'd cursed him, used the Cruciatus Curse. It had hurrt, a lot. That was all he was prepared to remember. Seamus must have tried to help him, but had only been attacked himself. There had been fire, somewhere, and blood.

Then he'd half passed out. And he'd come back to himself here.

That was two days ago.

Shuddering, Dean opened his eyes.

To his surprise, he found that he was lying more or less underneath a gorse bush. More to the point, Seamus was also lying near the bush.

The sandy-haired boy looked battered. His face was purple with bruises and he appeared weary, even in sleep. His arm was lying awkwardly, and there was puffiness and bleeding about halfway between wrist and elbow. Blood stained his torn clothes and dripped from the corner of his mouth.

"Seamus?" Dean whispered, afraid of drawing attention, afraid his friend was dead.

Seamus's eyes flickered open.

"Hi, Dean," he murmured.

"We'll get out of here, mate."

Something glinted in Seamus's eyes for a moment. Something like determination.

"Yes," he said quietly. "We will."

----

They dragged Dean back to the edge of the fire. Seamus watched them do it, hating himself for not intervening. He heard laughter, and words, and Dean's screams. He'd have liked to help. He wanted to help. Unfortunately, the only way to help was lying maybe eight feet away.

His wand. He was lucky they hadn't snapped it; instead, it'd been tossed aside by the man who grabbed it. And so had Dean's.

It might as well be a mile away. Trying hard not to hiss with the pain, Seamus pulled himself up onto his elbows and began to wriggle forward.

The snap and crackle of flames mixed with cruel laughter in his ears. Gritting his teeth, Seamus focused on working forwards, ignoring the pain flaring in his arm and his behind. If they would just not notice him for a few more minutes, if they'd just not think to look around, he'd get to his wand and...

And what?

Attack a group of Death Eaters? Alone? A sixteen-year-old boy, against adult witches and wizards who'd proved, time and time again, their taste and skill for killing?

Yes. Yes, he would.

Anything, anything to get Dean away from them.

Dean's voice cut into his thoughts; it was raised in a fresh burst of pain and fear. Seamus desperately glanced around. What he saw turned his stomach.

They'd cut Dean's arm off. The bone glistened in the firelight.

Dean slumped back; to Seamus's eyes, he looked unconscious. Blood spurted from the place where his arm had been attatched.

Seamus made one last, frantic effort, and his fingers closed around the wands.

Now they were turning, coming back, dragging Dean's body over the ground. Seamus rolled away from the place where the wands had lain and back towards the bush. He lay on his back. Stars glittered far above.

Dean's limp form thudded down beside him.

And them Seamus was rising, he was on his knees, he grabbed for Dean and got him by the ankle, and shaking, awkward, praying that it would work, he twisted around as hands reached for him.

He spun away into darkness, clutching desparately at his friend.

------
(AN: So. One rather unlikely escape. Thinking of changing it.
By the way, in this story, Sirius avoided falling through the Veil. Only significant later. Story is set a few weeks before the sixth book starts.)