Word count:1335
"Oh, Life is waiting for you
So messed up, but we're alive
Oh, Life is waiting for you
So messed up, but we'll survive"
Finding A Purpose
"Run away, and never come back."
"Run away, and never come back."
Those words were haunting him, haunting him every waking moment he had – and each and every one of his dreams too; well, when he could sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, each time he stopped to take a breath of the crispy winter air to try to appease the burning in his lungs, he would see the panicked face of his mother, burned white hot against his eyelids.
He was a Malfoy. He was supposed to be in his Manor right now, celebrating with his parents the victory of the Dark Lord that would put them in their rightful place: the top of the hierarchy. He was supposed to be sitting in front of a warm meal, eating with his mother and his father healed from his short – but still too long – stay in Azkaban. He was supposed to be mocking the Mudbloods and laugh at their pitiful attempts to escape their fate: death.
But the doors of Malfoy Manor were now closed to him. Never again would he walk the halls he had grown up in, never again would he hide behind the hideous statue of his great-grandfather or use the secret passage allowing him to listen to his parents talking about 'adult's stuff' in their living-room. Never again would he be allowed to rest in his room, the room his mother had decorated for him and that had grown up with him.
"Run away, and never come back."
He would never know exactly what had made her mother panic so, but he did know it had something to do with the Dark Lord. His father had failed one too many task after all, and spying through hidden holes in the walls Draco had been able to notice just how tired and broken his father was becoming with each passing day.
He had been summoned by the Dark Lord that day, and though scared, Draco had been ready to go, to swear his loyalty and his life to the man who took so much delight in torturing his father. There was nothing else he could do after all, for who if not their Lord would restore them to their rightful power?
But his mother had interrupted his preparations, running into his room – he realized then that he had never seen his mother run before, nor as out of breath as she was then - and he knew something had happened.
She had told him he had to run, run away as fast and far as possible and to never come back, for that would be his death. She had heard of a plan, she had told him, a dreadful plan that would bring the proud House of Malfoy down on their knees and reduce them to forgotten stories whispered in the black of cold nights.
There was nothing she could do to escape it – it was too late for her – but she had looked at him with tears in her eyes and such emotion that he had known he would obey her one last time, for he would never see her again.
He hadn't had much time, but at least magic had allowed him to pack faster and more than he would ever have been able to without it. In a bottomless bag he had put money (everything his mother had been able to find for him and everything he had saved before), food, many changes of clothes, books and parchment, ink and feathers, everything he had found in his room and more until he could feel he may be able to survive the world outside. If he was to run, he would have to avoid everyone, and particularly Dark wizards.
He had seen in his mother's eyes that she knew she was condemning him to a cruel fate, the one of never truly being accepted somewhere, but that the alternative was even more painful. He had understood what it meant, and that was death – if whoever had decided to do it was that merciful.
"Run away, and never come back."
Just before he left, hiding under the warmest and darkest cloak he possessed, his mother had given him the last gift she ever would – her dagger. It was a sharp blade she had brought from the Black's vaults the last time she had visited, and Draco had seen it many times worn by her mother since. He knew it was spelled to protect his wielder from the poison it wielded, a poison that would kill his enemies in a few minutes, and he understood what it meant.
He wasn't just running away. He was escaping, and there would be many after his life. She was giving him not only the means to flee, but also what he would need to survive, the one thing that could give him the unexpected advantage he might need.
He had hesitated before taking the black dagger, his hand lingering for a couple of seconds above the engraved hilt.
"Will I…" The words stayed stuck in his throat, but his mother had gotten the message.
"No." It was a harsh truth, but what he needed to make his decision. He was a Malfoy and he would let no one forfeit his life but him.
He took the weapon and as he was whisked away those hated words rang again in the wind.
"Run away, and never come back."
He tripped on some random root and laughed darkly.
Look at him! Weeks ago he had been a pampered prince hiding in his silvered Manor, now he was no better than a commoner, a traitor such as he had despised before, running and hiding in the woods like an animal.
The last time he had been to a wizarding place he had learned of his parents' deaths, but grieving had been forbidden for him as he had had to run. Indeed, there was now a wanted poster with his name on it – and unlike Potter and his friends, there was no mention that he should be brought alive to the Dark Lord.
He remembered wishing for the days when the Dark Lord and his followers would rule the world but now that the day had come he couldn't help but want for it to end. The fact that the only one who stood a chance to end the building empire was Potter, his sworn enemy was something he hated, but he knew the other wizard enough to know that if anyone could it would be him.
There was no word of the resistance though and Draco's carefully packed food would soon run out. He knew how to Apparate and could go to a Muggle village for food if he truly needed it, but he was loath to steal, even from creatures as inferiors as Muggles.
He had to find somewhere to go and, he thought as he looked back to the blade his mother had given him, somewhere he could do something to avenge his parents. He looked to the sky, the only sound in those cursed woods his own breath, trying maybe to catch a sign – but there was none, no shining lights to lighten the darkness he was in.
He got up, thanking the fact that his ankle wasn't hurt from the fall, and began to run again, his heavy footsteps echoing in the silence.
This time though, he had a purpose. He wasn't only running away like his mother had told him, no he was running toward a goal. He was running toward the one place where he knew his help would be needed and accepted, to the one place where he had once felt at home, and to the one place where he could finally stop being what this life had made him – a coward.
Hogwarts.
This was written for:
-the Hunger Games Fanfic Style Competition, round 3 (Genre: Tragedy, Emotion: grief, Dialogue: "Run away, and never come back.", Character: Draco Malfoy, Setting: Malfoy Manor, Weapon: dagger)
-the Gemstone Competition, Emerald
-the Wand Wood Competition, Blackthorn
-the Key Signature Competition, F# Major
-the Harry Potter Spells Competition, Legilimens
-the Months of The Year Competition, February
-the Color Competition, Green II
-the As Strong As We Are United Competition.