"No!" Draco bit out at the call, not even bothering to look up just yet. He was too focused on brushing sand off his very nice pyjamas in the hope that it might make him feel somewhat better about being somewhere in said pyjamas with no wand, no shoes, and his hair a proper mess. He was frightened and angry and his skin was stinging something awful, and he'd never done that well with pain. None of this seemed to be going away, which meant it wasn't just a horrible nightmare, and the idea of having been kidnapped was becoming very real indeed.

Someone was going to hear about this. His father, maybe. Hopefully. If he survived long enough to find him.

Draco twisted, tugging a little at his shirt to see if he'd gotten all the sand off of it. An impossible feat, since wet sand seemed to like to cling to wet fabric, which in turn clung to wet teenage boys. He stifled a frustrated noise, then finally glanced up to Damen and promptly screamed, abandoning his task in favour of making an attempt to run.

It failed. Miserably. Sand gave way beneath his feet, and after two steps, the blond went down, stumbling and going back down, face-first, into it. He probably deserved as much. "What the hell?"