Author's Note: This is the first attempt at a story since HBP came out. I know it's been awhile since I've written anything so be nice, I'm a little rusty at the moment. This story is gonna be my baby for a while. I'm going through a lot of mental torment and just need an outlet. Um this starts basically where HBP leaves off. So be warned lots of HBP spoilers!
Disclaimer: I own nothing of or about Harry Potter. I'm just a fan.
Draco Malfoy ran with every fiber of his being. He was running for his life, running from the thoughts provoked by the now dead Headmaster. He silently cursed at himself for listening to the old man. Hating him for the feelings that he had kicked up that Malfoy had faught so hard to contorl and beat down over the years. What did Dumbledore mean that he actually had a choice in the matter of being a Death Eater or not? It's not in a Malfoy's blood to have any,any choices.
It hadn't suprprised Malfoy that Harry Potter was there. Running after him. Of course the Boy-Who-Lived would have been there. Potter was always there when you least wanted. Potter had witnessed the whole thing! It would only be a matter of time before the Order would be after him as well. They would be even more sore that Snape, the man they thought had been fighting for them, had betrayed them so completely.
Snape! That greasy haired git had ruined him. There was no turning back. Draco knew that now he was a dead man. Regaurdless of whether or not he had a choice in the matter. When Snape killed Dumbledore, the slim chance of choices ended. He cursed at himself again for being weak. He couldn't do it. After all his struggles and plotting it was useless, it was all over. He considered just stopping and giving up. Let the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord himself to catch up to him and take the punishment that was coming to him with out a fight. Then all the thoughts of what Dumbledore suggested came rushing back to him.
"Draco, Draco you are not a killer," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the boy's mind. The headmaster was right, try though he might, Malfoy couldn't kill the old man. Dumbledore had said something about his heart not being in the task. Of course his heart was in it! It was up to him now to save his family when his father had failed the Dark Lord repeatedly. Now the ruin of the Malfoy family rested solely on the shoulders of the youngest Malfoy. His mother's death would be his fault. He couldn't live with himself if her blood were to stain his hands.
His legs were seeming to fail him. He didn't think he could run anymore. Hogsmeade just seemed to get further and further away from him with every frantic step toward the wizarding village.
"Run, Draco!" Snape's voice coming to his ears. Draco stole a glance over his shoulder and saw that Potter and Snape were in battle. Potter didn't seem to care that his shool nemesis was fleeing. This struck Draco as odd considering that the boy had done everything he could have to thwart the terrorist efforts that youngest Malfoy had been doing all year. However odd this seemed, Draco didn't slow down his pace. This was his chance to get away from everyone and disappear. He knew he couldn't go to the Manor. It'd be swarming with Death Eaters tonight in anticipation of the success or failure of his mission.
Malfoy knew he had to get to Hogsmeade before Snape so the head of his house couldn't bring him up to the Dark Lord. Getting out of harms way was on the forefront of the blonde's mind. He had to disappear. Saving his mother could only work if he first closed himeself off from the Death Eaters. Narcissa was a strong woman, but her maternal instincs would fail her if Draco were to show up at the Manor. No, he was on his own now.
Finally what seemed like eons Draco made into Hogsmeade. He ducked behind a building to catch his breath and to change his hair color and eye color to a subtle brown and hazel. It wasn't condusive to blatantly look like a Malfoy when he needed to fade away. There was no sign of Snape. Thankfully Harry Potter was more interested in dealing with the murderer and not the conspirator. At least for the time being. He wispered a thanks to his lucky stars as he Apperated to a small town in North Yorkshire.
At the late hour in this tiny little town the streets were deserted. Taking a look down at his robes he sighed. he had to get rid of them. He was now a Muggle. Magic would be a dead giveaway as to his whereabouts. Walking down the street Draco ripped the Slytherin crest from the robes and pocketed it. Thankfully the school uniform would be decent until he could come across a new outfit. The robes on the other hand would be a huge giveaway of how different he was,so as he passed a dumpster out side a train staition he discarded the garment.
Turning the corner into the train station. The staition was still open for the late hour. Malfoy took a seat in the small coffee shop in the corner.Glancing up at the Arrivals and Departures of the different trains he sighed heavily.He had to come up with a plan.
Draco woke up with a start. He never intended to fall asleep in the musty train staition. Much less out in the open like he was. Sure sometimes right out in the open was the wiser movethanseculded spot away from life.
With the early hour he knew he had to begin working on what his next moves were to be. He loathed the fact that he had to act and do as a Muggle. He was lowering himself even lower than a Mudblood.
At the thought of Mudblood, his mind went straight to Hermione Granger. After all those years of making her life miserable she would probably love to see how his life had turned. Or maybe not, Draco thought to himself. Sure she had fought back just as much as Potter or Weasley, but she did it in a different way. Sometimes he could see in her eyes pity as he called her every foul name he could and belittle her and her friends. He never understood why a Mudblood would look upon himself with pity,unfortunatlynow he knew exactlywhy. He understood more than he really wanted to admit. Dumbledore had put too much in his head. Could he really escape his old life? What was it that he meant when he said the Death Eaters couldn't find a dead man? If anyone could help help him it'd be Granger and her contacts with Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.
Draco's skin prickled as he felt someone watching him. Oh Merlin, it's over, it's over, he raised slowly from the bench. He refused to look back at the person staring at him. He couldn't give up. His life wasn't over yet. He was too young. But he needed help, and badly. The only person that popped into his mind was Granger and her pity filled eyes. Well the first thing would be to lose the person watching him. Walking for the door he never once gave any sign of noticing the eyes following him. However, Draco did note that the person who's eyes were following him made no move to follow his exit.
Unnerved to a odd sort of calmed panic, he knew he had to find a safe house. He couldn't lay down and worry every time someone so much as glanced at him. The Death Eaters would be on the prowl for him. He knew that if found, he would be done for. He couldn't die, not yet. He had to worry about his family before he said good-bye to his Earthly self. Granger would be his only hope. He clung to the thought, it was the only life line he had. Then a jolt of realization washed over him, how he was going to mangage winning her trust? Unfortunatly the main consern was finding her. He would have to worry about trust issues later.
His left arm burnt with a pain he could scarcely tolerate. He quickened his pace as though he could out run the pain in the arm. What was the Dark Lord doing? Was this a mere call to his side or was it the Dark Lord's way of tracking him down?
He felt the eyes again. Draco ducked into a red phonebooth. Trying to through off the unwanted eyes he picked up the thing odd shaped contraption that was hanging from a cord. He remembered a trip to the Ministry of Magic when he was twelve and thanked his lucky stars that no magical voice came thatfrom no where greeted him. Using that one experience to his advantage he was able to pull off the charade like he really was a Muggle.
There was a book he noticed underneth the fellytone thingy. Slowly he picked it up and opened it at random. Shocked, he foundthatrather beat up bookheld names and adresses of people. Who in their right mind would put this information out here for just anyone to come across? Hopeful he turned to the "G"s in the book and looked for the name Granger. There were about ten. Well that narrows that down, Draco thought sourly. Unfortunatly it could very possibly be that none of these Grangers could be the Grangers that he was looking for. Damn it! Slowly Malfoy ripped the page from the book. Well at least this was a starting point.
Acting as though he were typing in a number from the book with his right hand for the pain in the left was still excrusiating. Malfoy started talking and took a look around in the direction of the eyes he felt watching him. His heart went up to his troat. There was a middle-aged red headed woman coming tward the phonebooth. She seemed intent on him. This is it he thought as she knocked on the phonebooth door. Uncertainly he opened the door.
"Can I help you," Malfoy asked impatiently opening the door a crack.Cradling the phone withit squeezedbetween head and shoulder so that he could have a free hand to attack if necessary.
"I'm sorry to bother you, but, um, you dropped this," she said and handed him the Slytherin crest from his school robes.
"Oh, right, thanks, Mam." Draco breathed a sigh of relief.
"I know that you're on the phone, but, are you alright? You seem like there's something wrong."
"I'm fine, and yes I amtalking to someone.Thanks for returning this." It was obvious that the woman was dismissed. Draco was getting control of his heart rate. He had to get out of this town and move. He had to get out of the place. This wasn't the place he had to be. He could feel it in his bones.
