A/N: New story, though I might not continue it because I lack discipline and motivation. We'll see. I hope you like this at least! Might have some romance (most likely dysfunctional DM/HP) but I really don't know where I'm going with this. For the most part. :) Rated T for later chapters (sexual implications, language, violence, whatever - but nothing graphic. Hence the implications)
Prologue
Dear Mother,
I'm running away. Hopefully, by the time you find this, I'll be just another anonymous face in Europe.
I'm sorry for not being the son you've always dreamed of. I cannot make you love me enough nor can I make myself stop desiring your love, as a son always longs for his mother's affection. Father has taught me, if anything, that I cannot be perfect no matter how hard I push myself to try to meet his expectations. By the end of the war I was no longer who I used to be nor was I who I wanted to be. I've never wanted any of this, actually, but for the pride of the family I tried to obey every evil scheme, every order the Dark Lord gave.
This is my chance to start over. Father has passed and I am aware of how this hurt you, but I cannot stay here any longer either. Many people still hold resentment for the Malfoy family and I am trying to redeem the family, not by carrying out evil but by choosing against it. You know how hard it is to stay positive.
I am sorry to disappear from your life, but at the same time I wish for you to simply forget me. Had I my wand, I would not hesitate to obliviate you. I suggest you stay in France with some relatives and keep off the radar for your own safety.
Do not worry about me, I know you meant no harm mother. You loved me more than father hated me, but you were weak. I'll survive out there. I am not alone.
Your son,
Draco
I sighed, sealing my letter in a plain envelope by hand. Potter stole my wand during the war and I was now prohibited to ever carry one again, so I learned to live without magic. The change was astounding to say the least.
I was not amused.
The manor felt cold, most of the furniture sold off so that we could still afford to eat. There was no income now that father had died and no one would dare hire a Malfoy.
I glanced around the kitchen before shouldering my knapsack. Rain pounded outside, flooding the garden and the walkways. Leaving the darkening kitchen, I made sure to place the letter somewhere mother would find it. She would be home in a matter of hours.
My bare feet padded past the hollow rooms and I stared straight ahead. Someone died in that room. We tortured someone in there. I tried blocking the memories out but couldn't. Voldemort's image ingrained itself in my mind, smiling wickedly. I'd lied in the letter. I was alone, with memories and regrets.
I stood under the overhang for what felt like an eternity, questioning my actions and doubting every belief I'd ever held. The rain didn't let up but seemed to grow stronger and I noticed my shoes were left inside, but I couldn't go back in to get them. If I went back inside I wouldn't come back out tonight.
My bag is heavy though it carries little without a charm placed on it. Sure, to some it would be a minor inconvenience, but to me it meant limiting my supplies to survive.
Unable to wait any longer, I took my first step onto the bricks and flinched against the cold. But I took another step. Rain pelted down around me, threatening and soothing at the same time.
Leaving the manor on foot was my own doing. I could apparate easily, no wand needed, but here it felt wrong. Not because it could be traced (though it could), but because the feeling of physically leaving Malfoy Manor behind felt more right.
It was the same feeling of wrong that I'd felt during the war. Not that I was doing the evil deeds, but that I wasn't doing good ones. I wasn't even doing anything to stop them, I simply watched and waited. They killed my teachers and classmates, threatened my family and friends, destroyed the school I longed to call home.
Hell, the even tortured me sometimes. And now my mind decided to torture me in consequence for my apathy.
So I was done with that feeling, and as I walked away from the manor and decided to begin anew, there was a lingering pride within me. I was choosing to do something on my own for once.
And it felt good.
Half a mile out I suddenly stopped. Thoroughly soaked with rain (and not getting any drier), I didn't bother finding shelter as I had a sudden thought.
I had no wand and, in theory, no magic. The wizarding world had an unofficial bounty over my head and I was practically defenseless. What the bloody hell was I thinking? There was no safe place to go in this half of the world but all this was all the world I knew.
The only option I had was to live among the muggles. Imagine that! Me, Draco Malfoy, living with that filth. Now isn't the time to be high and mighty, Draco. Still, I groaned at the thought of living in muggle-London. Maybe staying at the manor wasn't so bad.
I kept moving forward, musing over the possibilities. Roaming the countryside didn't sound so bad after all. Until I remembered, oh right, I hate the countryside.
Three miles out the air was freezing and night had set in. My shivering became violent and my feet were raw and battered. I nearly dropped down in the mud but I needed to find adequate shelter. Or at least someplace dry.
Deciding that now was a good time to apparate, I began to consider where I could go inside of London. I couldn't risk hiding at the Leaky Cauldron, and the populated magic areas of London were also off limits. Only one place stood out, and though it was risky, I decided to try anyway.
When I landed, water sprayed up and all across the concrete around me. Rain dripped from my bangs as I fought to regain my balance. I was used to apparating in groups. When my feet were steady once again, though still hurting too much to stand for long, I lifted my head.
The place was silent and empty, just as I'd hoped. It was, after all, a month or two into the school year, so the train wasn't supposed to come by often. Not until the Christmas Holidays at least.
I admitted that I missed Hogwarts more than I thought I would've. The place brought back bad memories, though, so I declined Headmistress McGonagall's offer to have me back to finish my last year. They didn't really want me there anyway.
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters felt familiar, just eerily quiet this time. Although I could easily be discovered and attacked, my feet refused to move any further. Dropping down to sit on the pavement, I placed my knapsack between my feet and began to pull things out.
All of my clothes were soaked and the covers of my few books were warped, but the thin blanket I'd packed was enchanted. Nothing could dirty it or wet it, and it was of the highest quality a Malfoy could afford - that is, before they lost nearly everything.
Wrapping myself up, much like a burrito, I scooted toward a pillar. Thank god the ground wasn't as filthy as it was when the station's crowded. I still visibly cringed, though, spotting the gathered dirt and dust. The platform was cold and hard but within my blanket I held what bit of heat there was. It took me hours to fall asleep though, and even then my clothes were still damp.
In the morning I woke up with a massive headache and little hope. Numb fingers grasped the blanket tightly but I made no move to stand. A draft breezed by and I shuddered, closing my eyes again. Now what? I hadn't even thought through my plan. An idiotic mistake, and for a Malfoy… I can see why father resented me.
I didn't move all day. There was no place to go, no one to see, no muggle money to buy food with. The few galleons I possessed wouldn't be accepted by any shop keeper unless I went to Diagon Alley or the Leaky Cauldron, the two placed I'd already ruled out.
Knockturn Alley was an even worse idea, given recent circumstances.
Night fell and my stomach roared. I knew that I needed to find food but it all just seemed so hopeless now. Why couldn't I stay at the Manor? Why did I have to be such a failure. But I had to keep moving, because a pity-party wasn't really my type of party. Well, not here at least.
It was about nine o'clock when I finally stood in front of the wall, The pathway to the rest of King's Cross station. I knew that if I stood here any longer, I'd doubt myself and turn back and -
The next moment found me in the middle of a rush of muggles. I fought my way out with an embarrassing yelp and brushed off the muggle from my clothing, disgusted. Glaring, I drifted by the edges of the people, trying not to look suspicious while still dodging them. Now where to, idiot?
The muggles thinned out and I stood by a pillar, glowering at the night. Puddles reflected the streetlights and though I regretted my decision now, I was also convinced there was no turning back.
Through the streets of London I roamed, carefully avoiding curious eyes and dark alleyways. Sure, I could hide in the dark, but fugitives aren't the only things that hide.
Above me the clouds split and I got a glimpse of the sky. But of course, no stars were visible in the murk of London. Quite a city to get lost in, dangerous at night once you left the bustling streets. I paused on a street corner, savoring the light for a few long moments. Across the road sat a cat. I watched it and it watched me and somehow we both silently agreed it was time to move on again.
Where could I stay? Not on the streets like some rodent. There had to be an inn somewhere that would accept payment I could afford. "Where there's a will there's a way," I muttered caustically.
There was an abundance of closed shops and boarded up houses when something caught my eye. I knew that I shouldn't have kept walking once I noticed the declining neighborhood but the streets were unnamed and I was lost.
Should I just apparate back to King's Cross? The thought was nice, but by now the ministry had probably sent someone to watch the place. A former death eater comes apparating into a muggle population and does no damage? Suspicious.
The state of the neighborhood wasn't what caught my eye though. Up ahead was a large building, clearly once the jewel in this crown. Now a brightly lit sign sat in the window proudly proclaiming "Angus & Piers Ashford Street Pub - Boarders Welcome". At first it seemed out-of-place but maybe something could be worked out and I could stay here for a few years in the unmarked streets of unseen London . Get a job someplace around here. So the sign drew me and gave me hope. I decided to go check the place out.
The first thing I noticed was the way the door squealed when I pulled it open. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I then noticed the way people all stared at me. I didn't fit in. My clothes had almost dried but they still clung to me and my knapsack dripped water all over the floor, so I suppose I couldn't blame them.
A man at the bar muttered something to the bartender who laughed and relayed the comment to an older women. They all looked among themselves, then at me, and back again. I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them.
The rest of the bar was dingy and dusty. Some of the tables still had chairs on top, as though they haven't been used in years. Cobwebs crisscrossed through an entire corner. The lamps looked like antiques and many had cracks or missing light bulbs.
Realizing how timid I probably looked, I straightened up and regained my air of arrogance. The rest of the patrons turned back to their drinks but the bartender spoke up.
"Whoa, no shoes no service. I don' need another pub's drunks comin' in 'ere." I stopped, remembering that I hadn't brought shoes. I guess I was used to the pain in my feet by now. The man squinted down incredulously. "Are-are ya trackin' blood?"
The woman turned around at that and breathed in heavily. "Say, Rodney, I think he's homeless. Maybe he needs a place to rest. Should we go fetch Piers?"
The bartender nodded and motioned for me to come sit down before wandering off. I was more than a bit dumbfounded, still trying to save face. Who are these people, why am I here, god that was a stupid idea, my feet are bloody ruined, what if they hurt me? Filthy muggles. And how the hell am I going to pay for all this?
I managed to make it to the bar and dusted off the seat a little before hopping up. My face was clearly one of distaste because the woman raised an eyebrow and hardened her expression. "Don't be getting all snobby on us, you're the rubbish who walked in here." I opened my mouth to retort but for once had nothing to say.
A man followed behind the bartender with an air of superiority. He looked me over and I glared right back. "So, what business do you have here?"
"Maybe I just want a drink," I spat at him, turning my head haughtily. The man sneered at me and leaned against the bar.
"Well, assuming you aren't yet eighteen-" I narrowed my eyes, "-would you like me to buy that drink for you? I doubt you'd have the money to pay me back though, so consider it a kindness."
The words in my mind wouldn't form a sentence so I refused to say anything at all. In response the man just grinned a toothy grin.
After a few minutes of my uncomfortable fidgeting and creepy stares from him, the man spoke up again. "Now, would you like to tell us why you're really here? Come now, lad, we'll go talk in private." He placed a hand on my shoulder and I immediately jerked away. Grabbing my bag, I reluctantly stepped off the stool.
I followed Piers into the dark hallway, trying to stay balanced as a rat ran under my foot. My feet were killing me but I stood tall as I could — which wasn't very.
Piers opened a door at the end of the hall and switched on a light. The room itself was well furnished and looked expensive, lacking the odor of mildew, with a big painting of Piers and the late Angus on the far wall. He gestured for me to sit in front of his desk, and I reluctantly did, placing my knapsack by my feet.
"So, what brings a kid like you down here?" Again with the sneering. My mouth twitched into a frown and I shrugged. Piers frowned back and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Look, if you need somewhere to stay, I can make you an offer."
My instincts were telling me to run. But I didn't. Piers must have noticed my hesitation because he grinned again. Something was off and his eyes flashed eerily and I did want to run. Then my brain kicked in and I remembered — I had no where else.
"Are you going to answer or just sit there?" Piers asked, sounding bored. I blinked, trying to establish a profile on his character, but it was so erratic I couldn't keep any impression for long.
"I need a place to stay, yes." How pathetic, can't even keep my voice from trembling. Am I a Malfoy or a bloody mouse?
Piers leaned forward and looked down on me, creepy and condescending. "Well, can you pay for it?"
I don't like this at all. Why didn't I stay and starve in the manor - why didn't I stay at King's Cross, why the bloody hell am I here now? "I, uh…" I searched for some sort of lie or excuse to avoid the question but nothing came to mind. "No," I huffed, clearly annoyed with myself. Piers sneers again as though he expected this, rifling through some desk drawers now.
"Well, as it so happens, I think something can be arranged. But first, you're going to have to tell me, why are you here?"
"I just need a place to stay for a while," I said defensively.
"Hm. So you ran away? It's alright, everyone does eventually." Piers pulls a paper from the drawer. "Ah, here it is! I'll need to you sign this. On the dotted line, and don't take all day." I accepted the paper cautiously, looking it over. Piers growled impatiently again so I scribbled my name and thrust it back toward him, slightly bewildered at how he knew I'd run away.
Was I that obvious?
"You've an odd name, boy. Draco. Interesting." I shifted again under his gaze, realizing I shouldn't have put my real name. What if someone looks for me? Ha, no, no one would bother looking for me. Would they? "Come on, lad, I'll introduce you to the rest of the bar."
When we re-entered the bar area, me trying to keep far away from Piers and him keeping a hand on my shoulder, I noticed a few more occupants. A group of shady men lurked in the dusty corner, surrounded by the unused tables. A garish woman sat flirting with two young men by the bar.
"Eh, Rodney, have you met Draco? He's our new boarder." Some sort of silent communication passed between them over my shoulder and I shuffled my feet. The bartender turned his head and leered at me. I scowled back, trying to look hateful, but Rodney just laughed.
"Aye, 'm sure everyone'll like 'im." I looked questioningly at Piers, who shot a glare at Rodney. It was so brief I wasn't even sure I'd seen it.
No one else showed any sign of noticing.
We all stood in an uncomfortable silence until Piers hastily pushed forward. "Well, I'd better show you to your flat now. Come on, come on, don't drag your feet." I gripped my knapsack straps tightly, slowly moving forward. As Piers and I walked upstairs the group at the bar began whispering again.
I couldn't catch any words, but their tones worried me more than usual. The second floor was dark and dusty like the first except I heard people behind closed doors. Disgusting, insufferable, barbaric, intol- before I could get through my last insult, a door slammed shut behind me and I was alone.
In a room I could unfortunately consider mine. How lovely.
The furniture was ancient, accompanied by a yellowing closet and a dingy bathroom. I spent a while laying my soaked clothes out over the empty dresser, bare desk, bookshelf, chair - after dusting them all off, of course. In the darkness of the room - my room - I stared. At the shadows on the walls.
For hours.
Doors closed out in the hall, music droned on downstairs, floorboards creaked with every step.
The tiny clock showed almost 3 in the morning but I'd bet it was broken. I'd nearly bored myself to sleep, repeating traditional songs from Hogwarts in my head until they lost meaning. Finally my eyes closed and I was so close - so close - to sleep.
There was a knock on the door.