Next chapter at 300 comments! Dedicated to softball4infiniti

  AT LAST, IT came time to leave Pride. So before the sun had even the chance to dawn, two cloaked figures snuck out onto those red-paved streets.
  The morning had passed quietly, with barely any words exchanged between the two of them. The streets of Pride remained scanty, even all those days after the attack. People were still afraid — or at least that's what Draco said, most favouring hiding in their homes over roaming the streets, though a few still wandered in the weak midday sun. Winter would soon be on them, the last of autumn slowly fading away.

  The bomb attack had shaken not only Pride, but all of the districts. Border patrols had increased tenfold, making it almost impossibly to travel freely between districts. The televised propaganda and public punishments had multiplied too. Almost every street they passed held some billboard or screen broadcasting a near-constant stream of executions. The one thing they didn't show, however, was the Sins; not even the capital favourite, Wrath.

  "Why do you think that is?" Seven asked.

  "If they don't show them so much it's easier to forget just how many are missing." Draco replied grimly, "They'll be back before you know it, just you wait, they only need to figure out an excuse for Pride and Sloth first."

  They had yet to announce the deaths of the Sins, though most already speculated that had been the fate of the two that had been caught up in the explosion at Pride's mansion. The government had tried to keep it quiet, but whispers spread like wildfire in wind, appearing just as rapidly as they tried to silence those who spoke out.
  The two Sins were mildly injured but recovering fast, busy instead with their political duties— or so the never-ending push of propaganda screamed. They were alive. They were well. They were strong, unkillable, certainly not by some measly explosion.
  They'd shown a few interviews of Pride and Sloth too, had them talking to the public, showing face, proof that they were alive and well. Except they weren't. Their voices were off, and half an hour into the interviews they both had to be rushed off screen. Polyjuice potions were never all that reliable, especially not when made from corpses.

  "What do you think their excuse for their death will be this time?" She frowned, the streets growing more rural and less kempt by the mile, "More traitors? Although if they keep portraying the Sins as traitors that doesn't look much better than them being killed by the public."

  "I really don't know, Seven."

  The hours crawled by, slow and painful, until at last, the border loomed. A great walk, tall as three men and thick as five, made from concrete and topped with loops of barbed wire. Seven looked at the sharp barbs and felt sick, her mind instantly spiralling back to the memory of Draco, his flesh torn and bloodied as Avery loomed over him in that fighting ring. She blinked, shook her head, and the image was gone.

"Navy said the Crawlers found and filled in most of their tunnels," Draco scowled at the border wall and all the patrols that crawled like ants to rot ing fruit along it.

Seven sucked in an angsty breathe, "How are we getting through that then?"

"Just leave it to me." He seemed so certain that it almost worked to calm Seven too. Almost. She wasn't so sure, and she couldn't see a way that it could go that would possibly end with them successfully on the other side of the border. There were just so many of them. "Do whatever I do."

The closer they came, the louder Seven's heart became until it was almost deafening. Crawlers leered over at them as they approached, and the guards standing sentry cast one another a wry look as if to say, look what we have here.

  "Identification." Barked the taller of the two. Seven's hand began to move to her beg where both their passports were but stopped at the sound of Draco's hiss, low enough that only she could hear it, "Don't."

  When neither of them answered the Crawlers exchanged glances, hands beginning to subtly shift for their wands, "I said, identify yourselves."

  "That won't be necessary." Draco's voice came out foreign and affected, leached of what little light it had ever struggled to possess. He sounded terrifying, like a sudden strike of lightning on a silent night. He sounded like his father — like a Sin. Which with his hood up and head massed in darkness, he could very well have been.
  Draco pulled up the black sleeve of his robe to where his mark lay, so dark it seemed as if it was absorbing all the brightness around it.

  "Of course," The crawlers bowed their heads in a unified sign of reverence, suddenly switching from leering to fearful. Pathetic; like a hound squirming for its master's affection. "We have been awaiting your arrival, my Lord."

  But that seemed to be as far as their gratitude extended, for when their eyes landed on Seven, they were expectant.
  Seven's fingers lingered at the hem of her sleeve, terrified that she may lift up her sleeve at her mark may not be there, hidden beneath her skin like it so often tended to be.
  But it was there, thicker and bolder than ever, almost like it was answering some unspoken call.

  Again they bowed, "We welcome you, Lady Sin. Please, go on through and enjoy your stay. You only have to summon us if you need anything and we'll come find you."

  Seven shivered at the thought of deliberately summoning Crawlers but nodded, careful to keep her face concealed. One of the guards waved his wand, called out some incantation and the gates swung open to reveal Greed, polished and heart as ever.
  It seemed wrong that it could really be that simple. No passports, no wand identification, not even a tracking rune...

  "They think we're Sins?" Seven asked when they were finally far enough away to not be heard.

  "They think we're them," Draco said, suddenly sharp. Seven told herself he was only this way because he had to pretend to be his father — the man he had killed only weeks prior, "— Pride and Gluttony."

  It seemed illogical, Seven knew deep down that something wasn't right, that it didn't quite add up. Surely any Death Eater could show up at those gates and flash their mark, it didn't make them a Sin.
  She bit her tongue, knowing that even if she pressed the matter she would never get a different answer. Draco stuck to his lies through and through.
  "Even the insiders don't know they're dead then? They don't even tell their own?"

"No. The crawlers are the lowest of the ranks, they get told nothing." Another almost-lie. Seven didn't know much, but she knew that a lot of the Crawlers got direct inside information from many of the high-ranking Death Eaters, namely hit targets or particular blocks to raid, but still, it was something. Seven also knew that many of the Crawlers were bound to the Dark by unbreakable curses, unable to leave even if they wanted to.

"We should rest soon," Seven said, more for herself than anything else, almost an entire day's worth of walking had left her feet in bits.

Draco nodded towards the wooden overhead sign for a nearby inn, "There."

  Inside the inn chatter hummed, not letting up for the two hooded strangers that had just entered, men lounged from barstools, or over-crowded tables, playing card games or gambling with small, oddly-coloured tokens.

From behind the bar, a spectacled goblin with a hook nose and eyes so small and beady they looked like little black marbles deeply set into his skull stared at the two newcomers. In one hand he held a ratty cloth, in the other, a glass, though he seemed to have forgotten all about the task at hand as Seven and Draco approached the bar.

"Can I help you?" Though usually a small creature, the goblin peered at Draco from almost eye height, as he stood balanced on a stool.

"We need a place to stay for the night," Said Draco.

The goblin narrowed its already minuscule eyes at the two, pushing its glasses further up its beak with the back of its hand, "How many rooms?"

"One." Draco said at the exact same time that Seven chimed, "Two."

A chuckle came from further down the bar and all three of them turned in sync to look.

"Something funny?" Draco snapped, his hand subtly moving closer to Seven's beneath their cloaks. Just a brush of fingertips, a small reassurance, though which of them it was meant to reassure, Seven didn't know.

The man was handsome, probably a similar age to Seven herself, with a tankard of pale amber liquid wrapped between his fists, "Not at all," Though his smirk said otherwise.

"I thought as much," Draco leered and turned back to the goblin, thrusting a small pouch of gold across the bar, "We'll take just the one room."

"What a gentleman," Scoffed the other man, then he looked to Seven, "You're more than welcome to have my room, little bird — couldn't blame you for not wanting to share with this asshole."

At first, Seven was paranoid he'd seen her face, or perhaps her hair had come loose or something equally as unwanted that would give away her sex, but then she realised, scolding herself internally; she had spoken — that small slip had given away more than enough.

"Watch yourself, Diggory," The goblin warned before Draco had the chance to start on him, "Don't go starting fights you can't finish." Then he handed Draco a small silver key, "Room 407, clear out by midday tomorrow."

"Wouldn't you look at that, we're neighbours." Chuckled the man named Diggory. Draco had already begun to walk away with the unspoken order that Seven was to follow. She did, but not before she heard the man say, "Remember my offer, little bird."

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QOTD- what do you think will happen in the next chapter? Hint — shower scene ;)