Chapter Five: Pulled into Shadows

He had never been so relieved and so frightened to go home for summer break. His father had written no letters indicating that he knew his latest transgression. Indeed, when his parents appeared at King’s Cross Station his mother fussed over him as his trunk was hauled way towards their port key. He was a bit nervous to see his father in the station. His father rarely liked to come this close to muggles, but he didn’t give Draco a disapproving or warning look. He merely glowered at anyone who dared to walk too close to him.

The first month was a paradise of not worrying about much of anything. He scowled at the orders to do his homework over the holiday and generally acted impossible until it was almost too late to beg for forgiveness, in short he was back to normal. But as the time wore on he realized more and more that he didn’t want any part in the dark arts. He was torn between feeling normal and feeling as if he were trying to play a role in a strange production that he didn't very much like. He tried to remain in his room whenever the marks on his parents' arms burned. Whenever they left to obey the call to their lord his dreams turned into nightmares and always with his green eyes glowing, Harry Potter was in them.

One morning he went down to breakfast to find his parents waiting for him. It wasn't unusual that they were eating before he arrived, but he hurried to take his seat anyway. There seemed to be a kind of expectancy in the air.

“The Dark Lord has called us to him today.” His father began. His mother was smiling at him, her powder blue robe fluttering as she poured milk into her tea.

Draco nodded slowly trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He expected to hear instructions for getting work done and practicing certain curses. He wondered if he could practice apperating around the house while they were gone. His father had been teaching him, but warned him sternly never to do it outside the house. Draco knew there would be grave consequences for him if he were expelled and so for once he obeyed without question. The Manor was set far away enough from Muggles that Draco wouldn't have been noticed unless he started apperating into the village below, but the Ministry had grown very strict recently.

“Tonight you’ll be coming with us.” His father continued with a hint of pride in his voice. His silverware clinked across his plate.

Draco almost spat out what he was eating, but managed to swallow it with a sputtering cough. He looked up into his parent’s slightly concerned faces. “Going with you?” He managed not to stammer but he suddenly felt very cold. He had hoped, somehow, that his parents would've forgotten that promise. Formally he had been looking forward to this day; the day when he could prove his loyalty to who he had once thought was the most powerful wizard in the world. Now, those words had the same effect as his father telling him that he was going to spend the rest of his life in Azkaban. Cold dread was spreading over him making knots in his stomach.

“Yes.” His mother took his stammers for those of surprise and delight. She reached over and patted his arm. “You're old enough now. Your father wanted to wait until you were seventeen."

His father chuckled grimly over his toast in reply.

Draco stared down at his plate an odd lump forming in his stomach. He looked up at them and tried to smirk. “I’m going to…”

“Yes.” His father interrupted looking down the table. “We have spoken about this.” His tone was verging on suspicious.

Draco nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.” He said quickly. “I just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. You had already said, father," he said smoothly, "that I would have to wait until I was of age.” He swallowed another bite of his breakfast without really tasting it. What should have been a rush of pride was settling in as a cold, painful lump at the bottom of his stomach, which was twisting as if he were eating eels. He did his very best to twist his face into an excited grin. "When are we leaving?" He tried to make his voice sound eager.

"I have arranged to bring you tonight. Your mother will return for you." His father said with a tiny smile.

"We'll be going by broom." His mother added with distaste in her voice. "I know we've been teaching you to Apperate, but the Ministry will be trying to track any unusual magic, especially you apperating without a license." She sniffed disdainfully. "I'm afraid there's nothing to be done about it."

"Why don't we use a port key?" Draco asked, trying to bring his face back to normal and to place his voice into disdainful drawl. "We don't want to arrive windblown." He had hoped that his bluff would be enough to keep his father's intense eyes off of him for a little while.

It seemed to work his mother murmured something and his father shook his head. "Although they deny that anything is happening, the Ministry has been very jumpy lately about underage magic. No, traveling by brooms with a disillusion charm should be the safest way."

"Won't they track you when you Apperate?" He was trying to work out a way that he could convince his father that they shouldn't go at all. He was drawing a blank, since any disillusionment charm that his father or his mother cast would be strong enough to fool very powerful wizards.

"Your father and I are legally allowed to Apperate." His mother said, with a touch of annoyance in her voice. "The Ministry is coming down hard on underage magic." She said sternly, "And the wards on this house won't hide you if you disapperate to return home."

Draco opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it again quickly. His mind began to whirl with other ways he could escape and he could barely listen as his parents spoke about what cloak and robe to wear. His mother wasn't a good flyer, and perhaps he could say that he lost her and return home?

He went over similar plans in his head all day. He even attempted to forget the plans and take back his old pride a few times, but he always failed, unable to convince himself that this was indeed his life long dream. He would be able to stick it to Harry Potter better than before, and it would be fantastic. Now he wasn't sure he wanted to betray Harry to the Death Eaters. A few years ago, it had all seemed so simple, he had been dreaming of this day and now that it had dawned he was terrified.

It was that fear that kept him almost paralyzed in his room all day. He couldn't betray his parents. He had always been loyal to them and to his family's name. He wouldn't be allowed to keep that name if he ran away from the Dark Lord. What would his father say if his son ran away from the future that he had so thoughtfully picked out for him? He barely even heard the house-elf when it came to report that his mother had returned and was waiting for him downstairs. He stared down at the tiny creature who twisted its ears nervously and repeated the message. Draco nodded dumbly and slipped on the black robes and cape. He pulled the hood over his head and shouldered his broom as he walked down the stairs, his mind working frantically for a way out.

He smiled at his mother as she fussed over him and handed a white mask. He pulled it on and followed her out the back door into the yard. He was grateful that she couldn't see his face in the darkness because he was sure his happy smirk had vanished. She tapped him on the head with her wand and Draco shivered as the spell ran down his face and back like cold water. He shivered and resisted the urge to wipe his face as he mounted his broom and kicked off from the ground, following his mother up in the dark sky.

The sky was dark because there was no moon and the clouds allowing precious little starlight through. The air was cold at this height and it stung his hands until they felt like they were frozen to the broom handle. He suddenly wished he had remembered to wear his gloves. His mother was keeping a steady course, although she veered every now and then to avoid larger clumps of lights and she was flying very fast. Draco had never known his mother to set anything other than a snail’s pace when she flew on a broom, when she flew at all, but now she was flying as fast as her old broom could carry her. It wasn't hard to keep up, Draco's broom was a few years old, but it was still fast, after the Firebolt it was probably the fastest. He found it almost difficult to hold himself back and stay behind her.

He wanted to veer his broom or lose his mother in the clouds but something kept him from doing that, some feeling was preventing him from attempting to lose her. He watched for landmarks to try and see where they were going but it was next to impossible thanks to the cloudy moonless sky. They flew in silence for what felt like an hour before they began to dip down below the clouds. Draco watched as high trees appeared underneath them. His heart sank as they entered the trees and flew steadily towards an old cemetery.

They landed on the edges of the stone pocked field. Draco swallowed, trying to clear his mind of fear as his mother fussed over him in silence. The Dark Lord would know what he was thinking, he had heard his parents speak about his powers, especially the ones that he used to look through their minds. He held himself straight as he walked through the decaying headstones towards a ring of black figures whose white masks managed to glow faintly. His mother stopped next to a figure that he was sure was his father but gestured with one hand that he should continue forward. Draco didn't look at the figures surrounding him. He knew that the people here knew him but he couldn't identify anyone because of the masks and hoods they all wore.

His legs were shaking, but he managed to stay upright as he approached a tall figure with glowing red eyes. As he got closer, Draco managed to make out a snake like head with glowing eyes and a flat slit for a nose. It took all the control he could muster not to scream and run away.

"Draco Malfoy." The snake creature hissed. It wasn't a question, the man knew as sure as if Draco had introduced himself. "Scared." It sniffed the air and grinned.

Draco nodded and pulled all the pride he had in himself and his name together and tried to stand tall. He needed to uphold his family name and fulfill his duty to that name. He told himself that it didn't matter what he wanted, only what his family wanted for him. This weak argument didn't silence the tiny voice in his head but it kept is legs from shaking.

"Good." It hissed again, red eyes boring into Draco's. He wanted to look away but he didn't flinch.

He couldn't listen as the Dark Lord spoke. The words he had longed to listen to for years now didn't ring true inside of him. In his dreams this had always been a wonderful moment with his heart swelling with pride with every word that the Dark Lord spoke but now every word was like an ice spear and his heart sank further with every one that struck his ears. It slowly became clear to him that all these Death Eaters; all these people he had idolized were fools. Fools who were carrying out one insane man's revenge against his dead father. He barely heard the direction to hold out his arm as two figures suddenly flanked him. He held it out and his long sleeve fell away.

There was a shuffle in the cloaked figures behind him as if wind had rustled long grass. The two Death Eaters that had flanked him stepped back again and he was alone with the Dark Lord. His arm didn't shake, even as the Dark Lord's wand glowed a sickly green in the darkness. He couldn't take his eyes off of it as it lowered towards his forearm. He didn't feel anything at first but he could smell burning flesh. The head of a hissing snake appeared on his arm. Slowly, the shape of a skull began to form above it and the wand moved a bit, aiming higher. The wand flared brighter, illuminating the horrible grinning face. Draco's eyes widened at the horrific sight and suddenly pain flared bright sending bright stars flashing in front of his eyes. His arm felt as if it were on fire. He screamed as the fear he had been trying to quench and hold back roared to the surface and overwhelmed him. He staggered backwards, breaking through the cloaked figures and then broke into a run, his heart hammering in his ears. He could hear yelling and hastily spoken curses but he couldn't stop himself.

"Accio Nimbus!" He heard himself yell as bright red spells flared past him. He mounted his broom in mid stride and soared straight up into the air. He flew straight into the clouds, soaked through to the bone in a second as he pushed his broom at full speed.

Voldemort seemed unaffected by the sudden outburst, while Death Eaters scrambled and fired spells after the retreating child; he simply watched the black shape with narrowed red eyes. He turned calmly to Lucius who had drawn his wand but remained at his side. "The boy lost his nerve as I suspected he would." He waved one hand dissmissively as the man began to bow and beg forgiveness. "It is not your fault that his blood turned out so weak. No matter, even the purest blood must be thinned. Kill him, Lucius." He said as easily as if he had just asked someone to hand him his cloak. "And prove the strength of your loyalty."

"As you command, my Lord." Lucius said and backed a way, waving to another Death Eater to join him. They disappeared with a loud crack.

Draco was soaked through to the skin and shivering. Fear kept him awake and he didn't even bother to check the direction of his flight. His mind was too busy whirling with the consequences of his actions. Every Death Eater under Lord Voldemort's command was certainty now under orders to kill him. He knew he couldn't return to his parent’s home. He couldn't bear to face his them. His arm was burning even through the cold, wet robes that were plastered to it. He began to wonder how long it would take him to die if he just let go of his broom and fell. Neville Longbottom had fallen twenty feet from his broom and survived with only a broken wrist and when he had been learning to fly he'd fallen far several times and survived with only minor injuries. He wondered how high he was; perhaps since he was as high as the clouds the fall would kill him.

He shook his head, clearing the wet hair from his eyes. He didn't want to die, it was true, that at the moment he didn't much feel like being alive, but he didn't want to die. He continued to fly only out of his fear to land. The Death Eaters couldn't Apperate into the sky to catch him, and as long as he stayed high enough to avoid spells he would be safe.

The dark sky rumbled ominously as he flew and before long a downpour had reduced visibility to the point that he could barely see past the end of his broom. If any part of him had been dry after his escape through the clouds the downpour soaked it through.

He began to consider landing for the night. He was shivering so badly that it was hard to stay on his broom and his hands were so cold he could barely even feel them anymore. He had just dipped under the clouds when some winged white thing brushed past him, banking high and then swooping down before leveling off and soaring into the night. Draco turned to follow it automatically. He got closer and noticed it was an owl and it there was a letter tied to its leg. He wasn't sure he wanted to follow a post owl to its destination. This particular post owl looked like the owl that Harry Potter owned and the last place Draco wanted to end up was at Harry Potter's summer residence.

He sped up a little as he reasoned with himself. He had no where else to go and if he had any luck the owl would be on its way to the Hogsmede or Diagon Alley post office. If that were the case he could easily get a room at an inn and wait out his time there until school started. He wasn't sure what he was going to do after that but right now the only thing on his mind was someplace dry and warm to sleep and something to eat. The Death Eaters and his parents could wait for the morning.

The owl dipped still lower and Draco could see muggle houses and streets below them through the rain. He didn't worry or care if someone saw him. He was wearing black and the rain was falling so thickly he could barely see anything and he doubted very much that anyone on the ground would be able to see him or even try to look up into the rain. He was beginning to worry because Hogsmede wasn't near any muggle cities. It was, as far as he knew, in Scotland and he appeared to still be in England, but he calmed himself, Diagon Alley was in London he could be near there. He watched the owl as it swooped still lower through trees and brushed the roofs of houses. Draco followed, keeping a bit higher, skimming chimneys in an effort not to lose it. The owl would land at some wizard's house and deliver the message and then he could find out where he was and once he knew that, he reasoned, he could deduce the direction to Diagon Alley or Hogsmede. Diagon Alley seemed to be the best place to head first, as that was reachable, in all probability, in a few hours and Hogsmede was an entire day's trip by the train. He might be able to reach it in less time flying as fast as he could on his broom, but he had no idea how to get to Hogsmede in the first place.

He snapped out of his thoughts as the owl suddenly banked downwards and flew into one of the houses through an open second floor window. Draco followed very slowly, circling the house once and staring at the window. He tried to decide what to say the wizards who lived there. He wondered if he could beg or buy the use of some Floo powder and simply use the Floo network to get to Diagon Alley. It seemed sound enough to him and he flew down to hover at the window. If he could see to whom the owl had delivered its message too he might know the family and then it would be easy to pretend that he had come for a visit and then gotten lost in the rain. If he didn't know them he could say he had seen the owl and followed it because the rain had thrown him off course.

His stomach twisted and he wished again that he had elected to fall from his broom to his death. He was looking through the window at Harry Potter. He was about to fly back into the night when Harry turned and spotted him. They stared at each other for a moment before Harry dove for his wand. Draco didn't have the energy or the inclination to get his, if Harry wanted to kill him that was just fine. It would save the Dark Lord a lot of trouble. Draco didn't flinch at the wand that was now aimed at his face. He continued to stare at Harry, hoping at least to make the best of terrible situation.

"Can I at least come inside?" He asked carefully. The rain was still falling thickly and Draco shivered.

"Malfoy?" Harry's eyes had widened with shock but he did not lower his wand. "What in the world are you doing here?"

"If I told you…" Draco said, beginning to feel the exhaustion that adrenaline had made him ignore. He gripped his broom tighter so he wouldn't fall. "You wouldn't believe me."

Harry was staring at him suspiciously and Draco couldn't blame him. If Harry had shown up at his window in a rainstorm he probably would've blasted him without a second thought. And if he hadn't blasted him, he would've made sure that his stay was as miserable as possible.

"Try me." Harry muttered, eyes narrowing as his grip on the wand tightened.

Draco slumped a bit on his broom. "I'm running from Death Eaters who are probably out trying to kill me." He sneezed the last words. He was probably coming down with a cold from the rain.

Harry lowered his wand a little. It appeared that he hadn't been expecting that answer. "Death Eaters?" He asked incredulously.

Draco sighed. "Can I come in and explain?" He asked in an exasperated voice. "I'm sure you want me to catch my death of cold and they wouldn't mind a bit, but I'd rather not give the rudding bastards the satisfaction."

Harry didn't answer but stepped to one side and lowered his wand. Draco ducked his head, laying low on his broom and urged it slowly forward. He drifted through the window and slipped off, stumbling as he tried to stand. His legs were numb from the cold and ached at the sudden change of position. He fell to his knees almost immediately, the broom floating slowly to the ground beside him. The room was so much warmer than the outside that his face felt too warm almost at once and he sniffed loudly.

"You're soaked." Harry said in a disgusted voice.

"Yes." Draco said, some of his disdainful drawl managing to creep its way into his. "Brilliant observation, Potter. It's raining or didn't you notice?" He shrugged off his cloak and it fell into a soggy mass behind him, squelching at it hit the floor. He was sure he looked as miserable as he felt. He wondered where to start his explanation and just how much he wanted to tell Harry. He'd saved Harry's life twice now and he knew that put Harry in his debt. He shook his head and then held it in his hands. He was getting a headache again and the shock of the evening was beginning to wear off, his arm burned as if it were on fire, even encased in the cold, wet cloth of his robe.

Harry sighed and went to his wardrobe. He dug through some drawers before he returned with a rather large pair of jeans and an equally large sweatshirt. "We'll have to put your clothes someplace to dry out, I can sneak them into the bathroom, but we'll have to get them out before my Aunt and Uncle see them." He wasn't keen on getting caught by them with another wizard in the house but Draco had saved his life twice. Even if he didn't know Draco's reasons, he owed him the decency of dry clothes.

Draco looked up, startled at the idea that Harry was going to do him a favor. He took the clothing Harry offered and when Harry obligingly turned his back, he changed. The clothes were large enough to fit two of him inside but he didn't care, they were dry. In any other situation Draco would have frowned in disgust and refused the clothes, his pride keeping him soaking wet until something could be done about it. Right now through, warm dry clothes seemed like a paradise and he put them on gratefully but he only rolled the long sleeves of the sweatshirt to his wrists, unwilling to even look at the mark that was still burning on his arm.

He managed to stand on his own and took his sodden clothes and did his best to wring some of the water out of them. He leaned out the window just far enough not to lose the protection of the tiny overhang of the roof as he twisted them weakly in his hands.

When Harry left to take his clothes to the bathroom, Draco looked around the room. The white owl was sitting on top of its cage, blinking lazily at him. The room was small. Draco was standing in one of the few patches of bare floor between bed and desk. The shelves along the other wall were packed with old books and broken toys. An old battered wardrobe was wedged in a corner and was sitting partly open and Harry's school trunk sat open at the end of his bed. Draco sank down into the bed and brushed the threadbare quilt with one hand. In any other situation this room would have been a treasure trove of insults to throw at Potter but now he was too exhausted to even bother trying to think of some. He wanted nothing more than to flop down onto the bed and go to sleep.

Harry reappeared several moments later and handed him a small towel. "We didn't wake my Aunt and Uncle." He said, now whispering. "But keep your voice down, I don't know what they'll say if they find you here." He gave Draco a long and appraising look. "Now, explain." He sat down on the bed, near the head, some distance from Draco.

Draco concentrated on the coverlet for awhile and vigorously dried his hair before he spoke. He told Harry, in brief, about his meeting with the Dark Lord and his subsequent flight. When he was finished, Harry was staring at him open mouthed.

"You've got the mark on your arm?" He asked, his voice slightly impressed but mostly incredulous.

Draco considered Harry for a moment and then slowly rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. He looked down at the mark for the first time since his escape. His arm was red and swollen around the burn which was blurred a bit. The snake and lower jaw of the skull were a bright, distinct and angry red, everything else was a faded, blurry, reddish outline almost invisible under the swelling. Harry inhaled sharply and stared. Draco wondered if the Dark Lord could track him through the mark, it had been made by magic after all.

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked not looking away from Draco's arm.

Draco judged by the wide-eyed look Harry was giving him that he had expected this whole thing to be a clever ruse and was shocked to discover that Draco had been telling the truth. Draco stared at him dumbly for some time before he could manage to get his brain around an answer.

"Sleeping and eating would be on the top of my list." He said without any of his usual sarcasm. He wasn't sure he trusted Potter enough to tell him his plans, but then again, he had already shown him the Dark Mark. Harry could just as easily send a letter to the Ministry of Magic informing them that a Death Eater was in his bedroom. "Why? Are you going to turn me in?"

Harry sat back and looked at him disdainfully. "No,” he snorted, “Why would I do that? Who would believe me? Your father…"

Draco cut him off with a tired wave. "My father will probably kill me for what I did." He said dismissivly. "That's why I ran away, Potter."

"He's your father!" Harry countered angrily.

"He's a Death Eater." Draco said without meaning too. He regretted his words; but Harry had been present at a Death Eater meeting already. The Dark Lord always addressed his followers by name, so Harry was probably well aware that his father was a Death Eater.

"What about your mother then?" Harry asked, undaunted. "You can get a message to her, she'll help you.

"My mother is also a Death Eater." Draco muttered, doing his best to keep the dismay out of his voice. He knew that she would be very disappointed with him and the thought troubled him. He scoffed at Harry's surprised expression. "You expect that married to my father she wouldn't be?" He asked. "She's from the House of Black, of course she's a Death Eater, Potter. She has the same zeal for purity that they all have or had, they're all dead now, I suppose."

Harry closed his mouth with a snap and stared at Draco. "You can't go back?" He said finally, deciding not to correct Draco and remind him that Sirius was still alive.

Draco's eyes were beginning to close and even the pain in his arm couldn't keep him awake. He rolled his sleeve down hissing in pain as the cloth brushed over the mark and managed to raise his head to speak. "No, I can't." His words were punctuated with a huge yawn. He stared down at the coverlet again and before he could stop himself he slipped sideways, curled into a ball and fell asleep.

Harry was about to speak again but stopped when he noticed Draco leaning to one side. He stared in mild surprise as Draco fell asleep at the foot of his bed. He was the perfect source of information. Draco had to know something about the Dark Lord and his plans. He wanted to shake him awake and demand the news that he had been waiting for all summer but judging by the speed at which Draco fell asleep, waking him up now would do little good and may even have been impossible. He would drill Malfoy when he woke up the next morning. He set his alarm clock extra early so he could get up and retrieve the robes from the bathroom.

Draco dreamt about being chased by a snake through a house with so many corridors and stairways it reminded him of Hogwarts. Except the walls were bare and the most of the doors were locked or sealed shut. He found himself running through the endless halls tugging at doors and begging them to open.

He woke with a little start and sat up quickly, taking in the unfamiliar room with wide eyes for several heart-racing seconds until he remembered where he was and why he was there. He took a deep breath and looked around one more time. The clock on the small table at the bedside read "1:30." Draco sat up a little straighter and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it out. He stood up shakily as the memories of last night came rushing back and threatened to overwhelm him.

He was at Harry Potter's house after having fled from the Dark Lord. He rolled up his sleeve. The swelling seemed to have gotten a bit worse without treatment; it burned and ached when the sweatshirt passed over it. The snake and lower jaw of the skull were still plainly visible. He tugged to sleeve down, ignoring the pain as he got to his feet. He had noticed his robes draped over the old wardrobe and he searched through the pockets to find his wand. He was mildly surprised to find that his money pouch was still in one of the pockets. He thought Potter would’ve taken it, after all that’s what he would’ve done. The robes were still damp and he spread them out as best he could and he stuffed his wand in his pocket. He walked to the door and opened it carefully. Harry Potter lived with muggles and as much as it pained him, it wouldn’t be a good idea to flaunt his magical ability. It would’ve been so easy to blast the muggles away and deliver Harry Potter straight to Lord Voldemort. Yes, that would solve all his troubles…surely they would forgive him his moment of weakness if he delivered Harry Potter! The rumbling of his stomach reminded him that at the moment the Dark Lord was some distance away and he was here and very, very hungry. A cold knot of disgust, fear, and resentment wrapped around his stomach. He suspected that he should’ve gotten used to the fact that he didn’t want any harm to come to Harry Potter but it was still causing a strange feeling of surprise and sickness. He pulled the overlarge sweatshirt over his back pocket, obscuring his wand.

He walked slowly down the stairs and then through a hall. He could see Harry sitting at a table with a newspaper spread out in front of him. He was scanning it frantically as if Madam Pince would soon be by to pull it out from under his nose.

Draco took a moment to stare around the kitchen. He’d snuck into the Hogwarts kitchen a few times to get food late at night and even been in the kitchen of his own house when he wanted cookies after his parents were asleep but this place was strange. The Malfoy kitchen was of course immaculate thanks to their house elves but somehow this place made it seem dingy and dank. The whole room almost shone and looking around at strange appliances he didn’t recognize Draco felt out of place and uncomfortable. He shifted his weight and cleared his throat to prepare something snarky to say to Harry but nothing like he wanted managed to make it out of his mouth.

“I don’t suppose I could get something to eat, Potter?” He was pleased that he at least managed to drawl the words with his normal arrogance but they felt empty and he suspected they sounded affected.

“Draco!” Harry practically leapt out of his chair and gave a frantic glance out a window. Draco could hear voices beyond and supposed that’s where the muggles were. Harry bit his lip and rushed over to a large, gleaming white cabinet that stretched from the floor almost to the ceiling. He pulled it open and pulled a few things out. “You’d better get back upstairs before my uncle sees you!” He shoved an apple and two carrots into Draco’s hands.

Draco stared at his hands and opened his mouth to ask again for food intending this time to note that he hadn’t eaten since last night when a door creaked open and a larger man than Draco had ever seen walked through it. Harry froze and Draco judged from the way his whole body tensed that he should be preparing for something explosive.

“Who are you?” The man’s eyes swept over him, cold and wary. His eyes came to rest on the food that Draco was holding. Draco didn’t have time to open his mouth to make a suitable reply. He instead watched in amazement as the man’s face began to turn red and then purple.

The next few moments passed in a blur, leaving Draco rather unsure about what exactly had happened. The man had lunged for him screaming something about a thief stealing food, then there was a flash of light and a feeling of electricity that made Draco’s hair stand on end. The huge man was thrown backwards in the flash, crashing through the door taking it off its hinges and splintering wood in all directions.

Draco’s heart had started to rush but now it was calming again and a charge as if he had run his feet across a rug seemed to be settling down on his skin like dust disturbed by a wind. He stared at the wreckage of the door dumbfounded. Had he just cast a spell? If he had the Ministry would be here in a few moments. Panic seized him.

Harry seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Upstairs! Quick!” He rushed out of the kitchen. Draco followed him as they dashed up the stairs and into Harry’s room. As soon as the door was safely closed Harry whirled on him.

“What was that!?” He demanded.

Draco almost threw up his hands but managed to gather his composure in time. “I have no idea, Potter.” He managed to sneer. “My wand was in my back pocket.” He twisted his hips to reveal the strange shape sticking out of the back of the over large sweat shirt.

Harry blinked and seemed to calm down. “Did it feel like a static charge?” When Draco nodded warily, Harry nodded as if he understood. “Oh then you didn’t really do magic…” He was interrupted by the sound of a storm erupting somewhere downstairs.

“Ahh bugger, here comes Uncle Vernon.” Harry groaned. “Quick, hide!”

Draco opened his mouth to protest and say something about how Malfoys didn’t hide from muggles when Harry shoved him in the wardrobe, tossed something heavy over his head, and slammed the door. Draco stewed for several moments ready to burst out of the closet and give Harry a piece of his mind but a moment later a door burst open and there was a lot of screaming. Suddenly reminded of his hunger Draco decided to ignore the screaming and yelling that was coming from the room outside and eat the small amount of “food” that Harry had given him. He’d always heard that a starving people said that the food they were given was the most delicious thing they’d ever tasted and he’d always scoffed. Now he was discovering that it was true. He couldn’t remember ever having an apple that was quite this good.

“There – was – boy! Food!” A man’s voice was stuttering and spitting.

“I’ve been up here the whole time!” Harry’s voice insisted tiredly. Draco had to give him a few points there. He’d never pinned Harry for an outright liar. He munched on the first carrot.

“Don’t lie to us, boy!” A woman’s voice screeched shrilly. “The door’s blown off its hinges! Who else could it have been except for you!”

“Blonde boy! Food!” The man sputtered again.

Draco sat very still, pausing as he ate the second carrot. He’d only heard a few vague rumors about Harry’s muggle family since Harry didn’t talk about them much. One of those vague rumors had said that they had once chained him in his room and listening to them scream he was wondering if it were true. If they would do that to a person who was supposed to be their kin Draco wondered what they would do to him.

“Perhaps I would’ve been safer with the Death Eaters.” He thought as he listened to the banging and the hooting of an annoyed owl.

“I told you there’s no one here!” Harry’s voice was almost drowned out by the owl who was now hooting louder than ever.

“Shut up, boy!” The man’s voice bellowed. “He’s in here somewhere!” The door of the wardrobe was yanked open so hard the whole thing rocked. Draco froze and stared up at the large purple face but the beady eyes seemed to stare through him. The muggle started to deflate and turned around as if at a loss to prove his rage.

“Move out of the way, Vernon! There must be someone in there!” The blimp stepped aside and Draco was looking at a slip of a woman with an unpleasant face. She too, stared right through him. She pushed aside the clothes and felt the back of the wardrobe above Draco’s head. He found himself ducking a bit to avoid her hand.

“Shall I turn down my bed too?” Harry said a bit too sweetly.

“If there’s no one here!” The blimp was speaking again even though he was rapidly shrinking to a normal size. “Why is the door downstairs blown to bits?”

Draco couldn’t hear Harry’s reply as the door was slammed shut again. His heart began beat at a normal pace again as he sat dumbfounded wondering what had just happened and then it hit him. Harry’s damn invisibility cloak! He’d seen it once in Hogsmede; it must’ve been what Harry had thrown over his head. He had to give Potter credit for quick thinking. He ate the rest of his carrot as quietly as he could as he listened to the muffled yelling and searching. The door of the wardrobe opened again and the skinny woman made another search but with the same results. After sometime the door slammed and footsteps stormed off down the hall.

Harry opened the wardrobe a few moments later and reached foreword as if trying to find something he knew was there but couldn’t see. Draco pushed the cloak off his head and Harry took it back and stuffed it into an open and considerably gone through trunk.

“I’ll have to get out of the house for a while during the day now.” He mumbled, moving the owl’s cage back onto his desk. “Maybe the window…” he murmured. The owl was sitting on top of the wardrobe looking annoyed. “Come on down, Hedwig.” The owl only hooted and ruffled her snowy feathers.

“I’m surprised you haven’t blasted them.” Draco admitted, checking his wand for damage and finding that he very much wanted to be snarky and mean to Harry now that he had been fed and rested but for some reason he couldn’t manage one snarky comment. His head, on cue, began to ache as he thought about it. He could add all that to the fact that Harry had just hidden him from a rather large, angry muggle. He stared at his wand as he tried to think of a scathing remark but his mind remained annoyingly blank.

Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged. “You’re not going to be able to stay here.” He noted, “But you can’t leave on a broom in the middle of the day.” He retrieved the broom from under the bed.

“I’ll leave tonight after sunset.” Draco murmured still staring at his wand as the realization slowly hit him that he had no idea what he was going to do once he reached Diagon Alley. Just how much money did he have? Would he be able to get more out of the Malfoy vault at Gringotts? He put his wand back into his pocket.

“Before you leave then I want to know everything.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him.

“What?” Draco was pulled out of his frantic thinking and planning.

“Tell me about Voldemort!” Harry hissed. “What’s he planning? What’s he doing?”

Draco flinched when Harry said the name, even his own father had never used the Dark Lord’s name. He crossed his arms over his chest, clutching the burn with one hand. It throbbed painfully.

Harry wasn’t satisfied until Draco had told the whole story at least twice. He was dissatisfied with Draco’s information that much was apparent but it made Draco feel sick to talk about it.

Once the sun had set, Draco changed back into his robes. He was more comfortable and sure of himself once he was back in his familiar clothing. He took his broom from where Harry had propped it up against his desk and pulled open the window.

“Where are you going to go?” Harry asked from where he sat on the bed.

“I told you already.” Draco said as he sat on his broom and hovered it slowly through the open window. He heard Harry’s voice say something else but he ignored it and flew upwards, leveling out just under the clouds. He searched the horizon and stopped suddenly. What direction was Diagon Alley? He flew a bit lower until he spotted a place to land. He reached for his wand as his feet touched the ground but paused once again. Would the Ministry catch him if he tried a simple Point spell? He was standing in the middle of a muggle neighborhood; as incompetent as they were, they would probably pick up his spell instantly. If his father had alerted the Ministry that he was missing they would be quick to place him into custody and then turn him over to his father. But he had no doubt that the Death Eaters were still looking for him so he couldn’t afford to stay in once place. It seemed that no matter what he did someone would find him. He held his wand tightly as he tried to decide between the two.

As he stood there slightly off the road, hidden by a few trees there was a sudden pop and a screaming sound that made Draco jump to one side, wand at the ready. A large purple triple-decker bus came to a screeching halt just a few feet from him. He stared at the gold letters blazed across the front windscreen. The Knight Bus. He stared at his wand for a few moments as he wondered why he hadn’t thought of calling for it sooner. He had just regained his composure and stopped feeling quiet so stupid when a lanky big eared boy in a purple uniform with a bright, polished name tag appeared in the doorway.

“Any bags?” He scanned the street, “No? Hop on board then!” Draco followed him through the door and into the candle lit interior. “I’ve got a few comfortable chairs. Where can we take you?” Stan said, leading the way from the first up to the second level.

“Diagon Alley.” Draco murmured as he fumbled for his money bag. He wasn’t sure how much he had with him. His father had once used the Knight Bus but the only thing Draco had ever heard about it, besides the fact that it was purple, was that it had been a horrible experience.

“Eleven sickles!” Stan chirped as he waved Draco to a chair. “For two more you’ll get a cup of hot chocolate and for another two you can have a hot water bottle and a toothbrush in your choice of color.” He turned to collect the money when his pimpled face broke into a wide grin. “Hey! I know you!”

Draco paled a bit as he found his pouch and took out eleven sickles. He was about to stammer something in reply but Stan interrupted him, grinning like a fool.

“Arthur! Arthur Warrington!” He bellowed extending his hand for Draco to shake. “I’d know your hair anywhere! No one else is as blonde as you are, Arthur!”

Draco accepted the bone jarring hand shake with a dumbfounded expression that he fought to remove from his face as quickly as possible. “Arthur Warrington?” He wondered to himself. He’d never heard that name before in his lifetime. He’d often been told that he looked like his father but never anyone named Arthur. The only Arthur he knew was the red headed muggle loving Weasley.

Stan didn’t seem to notice. “How have you been? Still at school? Must be almost done by now.”

“Yes.” He said, handing over the coins as he sat down, suddenly very grateful that Arthur had blonde hair although he was confused that whoever Arthur was, his hair was his defining feature. He tucked his broom at his feet.

“No hot chocolate for you tonight, Arthur?” He counted the coins in his hands, catching hold of another arm chair as the bus jolted into motion. Draco gripped the arms of his chair as the lurching and rumbling threatened to throw him out of his seat and further down the car another wizard apparently didn’t have a good enough grip and was tossed into the aisle.

“No thank you.” Draco said firmly.

“Alright then, I’ll come up for you when we arrive. Got a few stops before yours. I’d stay to chat but I’m working you understand. Good to see you again, Arthur!” Stan strode down the aisle, catching himself on the walls with every lurch. “You alright there, sir? Up you go, there you are!” He helped the old wizard back into his seat before he vanished back down the stairs.

Draco quickly learned what had led his father to complain about the experience. He had ridden on rogue brooms that were smoother. He had been hungry before and looking forward to a nice dinner at the Leaky Cauldron but as the ride wore on he found that he was very glad that he hadn’t eaten that much at Harry’s home.

He had been ignoring feelings on leaving Harry’s house and now that he had a moment to think everything rushed foreword to demand attention. He’d been almost nice to Harry and the wonder boy had been civil in return. The warm feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach was threatening to make him ill, although he couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t the lurching of the bus causing that sensation. He made a vain attempt to tell himself that he was never nice to Harry Potter and that his failings recently had been due to exhaustion, cold, and hunger.

Draco had thought to count the rest of his money while he was sitting on the bus but he was afraid to let go of the chair lest he fly into the aisle and crash into the opposite wall the same way the wizard at the end of the row did every time the dreadful thing stopped.

“Your stop, Arthur!” Stan called from the stair well as the bus came to another bone jarring halt. Draco almost didn’t respond as he wondered which lucky wizard was able to leave the nightmare before he remembered that for the duration of his time here he was Arthur. He jumped to his feet and retrieved his broom from across the aisle and under another chair.

“Next time we’ll have to have a proper talk, Arthur, it’s been too long.” He gave Draco’s hand another hearty shake. “Take care now!”

Draco stepped gratefully onto the ground with a noncommittal sound in Stan’s direction. There was a scream and the feeling of rushing wind as the Knight Bus vanished. He hurried through the door of the Leaky Cauldron before pausing and fishing out his money pouch. He could see six galleons and some sickles. It wasn’t that much considering he wanted to buy a room for almost a week. His arm started to throb and he looked around fearfully, expecting Death Eaters to come rushing through the front door.

“Looking for a room, lad?” An old, bald man with a toothless grin appeared from around a table. He put down his stack of dishes and cleaned his hands on his apron. “Parents sent you up early for school, did they?” He tottered over to the desk and pulled a large book towards him. “Let’s see. Let’s see. Yes, how about I have room 6 made up for you.” He looked up at Draco. “That suit you, lad?”

“Yes, just fine.” Draco murmured as he walked towards the desk.

“Sit yourself down for some dinner, I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” Tom waved him towards a table.

Draco sat at his table the next morning, enjoying his breakfast as he tried to think of excuses he could use on the Goblins at Gringotts bank. He’d been there with his father many times before and each time the Goblins required a key or a letter to open the vaults. If the Goblins did allow him into the vaults, he could gather money, as much as he could carry, to buy some things he badly needed now and perhaps even manage to hide until the start of the school term. He knew he would be safe from his father once he reached Hogwarts but he had to survive long enough to catch the train and even on the train he wouldn’t be safe. There were the sons of Death Eaters to worry about, would Crabbe and Goyle still be loyal to him? He swirled the coffee in his mug, trying to decide if it would be safe to show his arm to Dumbledore. He knew from his father that the headmaster was the enemy of the Dark Lord but would he assume that Draco was an enemy too? His head started to throb again and he took a long drink from his mug, finishing the lukewarm coffee. He was about to ask for another when a large brown and tan owl flew in through one open window. It landed in an exhausted heap on his table.

Draco stared at it for several long moments before he recognized the poor creature. “Balor!” He reached for the eagle owl that looked as if it had flown for days without rest. At the sound of his voice it rose in the most dignified manner that it could muster and extended one shaky leg. Draco took the rolled scroll and pushed the last of his sausage towards the exhausted bird. It hooted gratefully and bolted the offered food.

“Must be urgent.” Tom the landlord had come over with a skewer of sausages. “Owls normally wait at the Post Office.” He pushed a few more onto Draco’s plate before he wandered off to tend the rest of the guests. Balor hooted and eyed the sausages.

“Go ahead.” Draco said as he examined the scroll, looking for a seal. “Go ahead and eat, Balor.” The owl started eagerly on the rest of the sausages and Draco turned the scroll over in his hands. His stomach sank, fear wrapped in a cold, lead ball as he saw his mother’s own personal seal. He looked around fearfully once more, there a few old witches were chatting over their eggs and an old wizard was reading his morning newspaper, but he couldn’t see any white masks or hooded figures in black robes.

Finished with the sausages, Balor began to groom his feathers. Draco broke the seal and opened the letter. His mother’s elegant handwriting filled the page and a small key fell out and clattered onto the table.

Draco,

It is my last hope that Balor knows where to find you. I have wondered long how to get word to you without alerting the Dark Lord of your location. I fear that Lucius may have already found you.

Lucius and I have sent your school things and funds to your own vault at Gringotts’ Bank. You should be aware that the Dark Lord has ordered your death. You may consider this letter the last communication between us. You are no longer our son.

Narcissa Malfoy

Draco read the letter twice before he picked up the plain, heavy key, engraved with the number 246. “That takes care of my school things.” Draco murmured to Balor who had finished the sausages and was pecking dubiously at the remains of Draco’s toast. He could feel tears trying to form in his eyes and he harshly reminded himself that Malfoys didn’t cry. “But you’re no longer a Malfoy.” The words raced across his mind before he could stop them and the banished tears threatened to return. He shook his head hard and took a deep breath. He hadn’t really expected his parents to forgive him but the letter confirmed his fears in the worst possible way.

“Come on, Balor. I’ll take you up to my room and you can rest there.”

Draco left the owl in his room, perched on the end of the bed, while he went to Gringotts to retrieve his trunk. He’d always hated the ride down to the vaults but after his experience on the Knight Bus he found it to be almost pleasant. His own vault was much smaller than the one he’d seen his parents use but his trunk was just inside the door with Balor’s cage resting on top. He was surprised to see, beyond that, the pile of galleons. It wasn’t much by Malfoy standards but it was twice as much as Draco had expected. He gathered some into his pouch before he arranged for his trunk to be transported to his room at the Leaky Cauldron.

He stepped out onto the busy street and turned to go to the Apothecary. He didn’t know what he would need for school yet, but he knew that his potion supplies were very low. He had just reached the bottem of the steps when a familiar face made him freeze. His father was standing at the entrance of Knockturn Alley. His brain told him to turn and run up the street before he was spotted but for some reason he remained rooted to the spot.

Lucius raised his head, his face running the range from sorrow to rage as he pointed his wand. He opened his mouth and attempted to say something but he snapped it shut. Lucius’ face seemed to have settled on sorrow and his hold on his wand faltered as if reluctant to cast the spell.

“Crucio!”

Draco screamed as he doubled up in pain, hitting the ground hard as tears sprang into his eyes. Fire poured through every nerve of his body for what seemed like hours but it vanished only a few seconds later.

“Stop that man!” Someone was screaming.

“It’s no good, he’s Apperated!” Someone else yelled back.

Draco feared for a moment that the spell had blinded him but his eyes opened, leaving him to stare up dizzily at the concerned faces trying to remember when he had closed them.

“Who cast the spell on ya, lad?” A wizard with deep brown skin and short curly black hair was staring down at him. “Who threw the curse?”

Draco stared dumbly back. It had been his father, except the letter had stated that man was no longer his father. His time in flight had up until now, seemed less than real, as if it were a dream and he would wake up in his room. Reality suddenly crashed down around him making it hard to breathe. It would be easy, he could tell them and they would ensure that he remained safe until school started, perhaps they would even turn him over to Dumbledore. He wanted to tell them but then his father and possibly his mother would be caught and sent to Azkaban. He opened his mouth but couldn’t manage to speak the simple words; he couldn’t bring himself to say them. He knew his family wouldn’t offer him the same mercy if they found him again so he knew it was foolish to give it.

“I don’t know.” He said, gasping for breath.

The man sighed and rose to his feet. “Poor boy, didn’t even see the blighter.”

Amid the confused and anxious chatter a mediwizard appeared a moment later to examine him. A few moments later he was declared just fine for someone who had taken an Unforgivable curse. Draco rose to his feet, allowing a young wizard nearby to help him; he was too dazed to refuse. He wondered if perhaps someone had recognized him, since no one had bothered to ask for his name. Would they be trying to contact his parents to inform them of the attack? He should’ve worried about this possibility but he couldn’t manage it.

His father had been sent to kill him of that much he was certain. His father now knew he was in Diagon Alley but would his father expect him to run or would he call the Death Eaters and return for him later? He allowed himself to be escorted back to his room at the Leaky Cauldron.

Balor hooted at him as he entered the room. Draco sat down on his bed and stared at the owl for a few moments before getting up and throwing open his trunk. He had to decide what he was going to do. He dug through his Hogwarts uniforms. Where would he go if he tried to run? The only truly safe place he could go would be Hogwarts but that was far to the North and he would have to carry his trunk. A sudden flash of light and movement interrupted his thoughts and he reached for a shiny object, half hidden in his thick winter cloak. A faltering broom flew jerkily through a patchy blue sky. He held it carefully in his hands remember the face of the young Gryffindor girl as he had pulled her out of the sky. Why had he saved her? Because he had wanted her to live. He realized rather abruptly that he wanted to live. His will had been dimmed by his father’s appearance in Knockturn Alley.

“I’m worth something, even if its to the wrong people.” He told himself as he tucked the medal back into its safe place.

He would stay here until he could return to Hogwarts. If he tried to run he might never be able to get back to the safety of the school. Diagon Alley afforded a certain amount of protection: since the attack had happened here there was a chance that Ministry wizards would be on their guard.