Ride or Die

Terrible, Wild, Lawless

Chapter 3: Terrible, Wild, Lawless

"Well," Theo opened tentatively, "does it hurt?"

Draco glared at him, his hand wrapped tightly around his shoulder. "No," he grunted. "Just your standard gunshot mundanity."

"No need to be a dick," Theo retorted sulkily, but his more resilient nature summoned a laugh out of him as he slumped down in his chair. "Though I suppose that was not my most remarkable show of intellect," he conceded, flashing Draco a hesitant grin.

"Well, don't sell yourself short," Draco said airily, taking a sip of his beer. "You've managed less impressive shows."

At that they exchanged glances, smirking.

"Really, though," Theo pressed, "you okay?"

Draco shrugged. "Just a flesh wound," he permitted vacantly, though in truth, he was suffering from a pulsing throb that had yet to fully dull. "I'll survive." He tipped his head back, closing his eyes. "If there's one thing to be said for Fenrir Greyback, it's that he knows what he's doing. Not exactly a lethal shot," he explained, cracking one eye.

"Definitely not a kill shot," Theo agreed, glancing at him. "Something tells me that if he wanted you dead, you fucking would be."

Draco grimaced in agreement. Fenrir had only shot to injure - to inconvenience - so that by the time Theo had his gun cocked the other three had simply laughed their way out, tires squealing as they left Draco behind to bleed all over Theo's car.

"Yeah," Draco muttered. "Obviously he needed someone to pass along the message." He clutched his shoulder, applying pressure to the ache as he took another sip, letting the IPA swirl around to steep his tongue in bitterness before swallowing. "Someone to pass along the threat, I should say," he amended after a moment; tell Riddle I want his head.

"Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'don't shoot the messenger,'" Theo commented wryly, turning his head to glance at Draco. "Bummer, brother." He jerked his chin, gesturing. "You all good now? You never told me how you got things sorted."

"I did not," Draco agreed, tipping the bottle against his lips.

After a few seconds of expectant silence, Theo sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "If you'd rather be mysterious - "

"I told you, I got a doctor to sew me up," Draco reminded him. "Good as new," he lied.

He rolled his shoulder at that, feeling it tighten and throb. Thank fucking Christ she knew what she was doing, too, he thought helplessly, trying to shake the doctor's wide brown eyes from his consciousness.

Granger, he remembered, and then corrected himself - Doctor Granger, he amended. He was a man who understood titles, who grasped the order of things; it would never escape him to give her her due. He rolled the name around on his tongue, the comforting sound of it singing through the marrow of his bones.

She'd had a look to her; if he had to call it something, he supposed it could be innocence, though that wasn't quite right. She was no doe-eyed damsel along for the ride. She had an appealing finesse to her, a wary tenacity - adrenaline junkie, he remembered, and barely suppressed a shiver - but still, being near her had been something of a reprieve, like a splash of cold water, baptizing him in her gaze. Everyone in Draco's world was coated in a thick fog of things they'd seen - things they'd done - and she, Dr Granger, was effortlessly untainted.

Poor thing, he thought, remembering the question in her gaze before he'd walked away. There was curiosity there, he could tell; she was practically licking her lips from the taste of it. Draco -