He thought he was alone. Well, not exactly alone, if it was only her around then he could live with that. After all, who was she in the long run of things? His blonde hair was obscuring his face, those fine fair tresses sticking to his tear stained face. His head bowed down, in defeated, in desperation, in shame, his hands were aching, his fingers were going numb from clenching the sink so hard. But he didn't let go, he thought perhaps if he held onto it long enough, tight enough, an answer would come to him. His worthlessness swirling down the drain of the sink, his tears and sobs interrupted by a stumbling, ridiculous, attempt at soothing,
"Don't," the Muggle born girl was trying to soothe him! Her, whose blood brought upon her death was trying to soothe him whose blood brought upon this fling with attempted murder. "Don't…" she repeats, "tell me what's wrong… I can help you." He started shaking, right now even her sophomoric stab at tenderness to a cold heart was momentarily endearing to him.
"No one can help me." More than defeat was in his voice, there was shame there too. "I can't do it… I can't… It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me." His life was on the line, his once privileged and pampered life, and it could all end with this one blunder. A great gasping breath was trying to surface from the blonde's chest, he gulped down the pathetic sob that wanted to escape, and looked up to see what damage had been done to his face by the salt encrusted tears.
And there, like a blow to the face, was Harry Potter, his face slightly obscured by the crack in the mirror. The blonde turned around quickly, and took out his wand like a sword ready for battle. His aim was not what it should have been, and his curse missed Potter. Missed him by mere inches. Potter retaliated, their duel went on for minutes, if that, and the ghost of a girl was crying out for them to stop. But this was no regular duel, this was a one on one that had been bubbling since that train ride to Hogwarts. Desperate for an end to this bullshit, the blonde can feel his face twist, can feel the hate pouring out, and he spits out,
"Cruci-" but is cut off,
"SECTUMSEMPRA!" It hit the blonde in the face, on the chest, it felt like a slashing blow from a sword that he didn't know Potter had. The blonde stumbled backwards, he fell to the floor, shock and fear coursing through the blood that was leaking out of his body.
Holt shit, the Dark Lord won't have a chance to kill me… Potter's already done it. He thought.
"No-" came the gasping response from Potter. The blonde didn't register as the brunette shoved himself towards him, he was busy groping his chest, as if sure he would find only some red liquid filled pocket there, because surely, that wasn't his pure blood that was spilling out from him. Harry Potter would never hurt someone like this, not even his school house nemeses.
"No--I didn't--" Potter was mumbling, the blonde was going into shock, he was in something wet, a pool of wetness…
Murder was shouted, footsteps, voices, Snape? Three times something warm and light spread all over the blonde, a song nearly soothed him into a lulled sleep. He was now standing, Snape telling him something about the hospital wing. Mentioning something about scars. And as the blonde left with Snape, he couldn't help but wonder if his scars would bring to him fame in the likes it brought to Potter.
No more talk of this incident is necessary I only mentioned it to show to you what kinds of people we are dealing with here. In one instant, there is a crying boy, a wreck of a human who once had the world. On the other hand, there is a spying boy, who couldn't even leave the first boy alone to enjoy his misery alone. His atrocious obsession with being in control led them both to a place that they did not want to go. Did they hate each other? God yes. Understand this, however, the blonde is not totally innocent. Scoff and act as if that is not a surprise if you wish, but it's the truth, and that is all I am interested in here.
The blonde was sent to do something that he himself did not understand, but of that, we will discuss later. Digressing from my point, allow me to address it once again, the brunette happened to be in the right place, at the wrong time. In this particular scene, he came off as the bad guy. But allow me to take you to one more place before we go on. I am merely telling you what you already know, but, I am showing it to you from a different point-of -view.
"Expelliarmus!" The wand flew out of his reach, the blonde took a relaxing breath. Without the other wand there, his job would be a whole lot easier.
"Good evening, Draco." Stepping forward, the blonde noticed another broom, another broom, another person, he thought. He wondered where the other could be hiding, hoping like hell it was Potter so he could do to Potter what was done to him.
"Who else is here?" Idly repartee, questions, panting, anxiousness, and that damned man's obnoxious, un-phased, manner! Stop prattling!
"…I-I've got a job to do!" he said, finishing his weak mumbling statement. Why was he bothering to speak at all, just one spell, one curse, and this will all be over with.
In a soft, irritatingly soft, voice, "Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy." Said the wizard with the long beard and white hair.
Do it! A voice said in the blonde's head. Was that his father speaking? Or was it his mother's desperate plea? Or, was it his own voice, urging him to get his job done, and be off into the night? The man with the beard smiled,
"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."
"How do you know?" The blonde said at once, hoping to cover his own nervousness with tough words. At once, he knew how infantile they sounded, "You don't know what I'm capable of!" a phrase he has, many times before, flung at his father when the elder man shook his head and refused to tell him son anything. The father who knew in his hearts of hearts that one day, if he should fail, his protected son would be stolen from his safe bubble, and rocketed into a nightmare. "You don't know what I've done!" the blonde shouted. Was he screaming at the old man, or his father?
More words, more leading words, condescending and oh so truthful came from the old man, ending with, "…I have no wand at the moment… I cannot defend myself."
DO IT! the voice raged again. The blonde could only stare.
Sounds coming closer, men rushing up to join the meeting, men who would make the blonde do what he has been trying to do all year.
An inquiry as to how the blonde outsmarted the old man placated the blonde's fear, momentarily. He was so eager to boast about his genius that even his fear could be pushed down for a second so that he could shine, shine in the dim like of a dark mark. He was charged by a praise from the man he was to kill. The two shared more words, the blonde finding strength in the way the old man started to slip down a bit on the stones behind him.
More heated, urgent words, then Snape was dragged into the conversation. The blonde seemed to be under the impression that his actions would led him to more glory than the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor could ever have. A manic glow was brought unto him, he would be loved above all by a Dark Lord who is incapable of loving.
More words, more infuriating chit chat, the truth was, the blonde was scared. If he could talk a bit more, then things would be okay. The ones who were sent to make sure his job would be done would fail, and he could then disappear and not have to kill anyone, if he could just keep the old man talking…
Options were then brought into light.
"My options!" the blonde shouted, "I'm standing here with a wand- I'm about to kill you-" the old man rushes as he tries to explain, the blonde is stubborn.
"…He'll kill my whole family!" an offer of help. An offer. An offer, an offer, an offer, an offer, AN OFFER!
Take it. said the voice, a soft voice, his mothers voice. DO NOT be a fool, kill him and be glorified, said his father.
"I can help you, Draco." More words, promises that his mother and father would be safe. The right side, mercy…
Take it.
…too late.
Too many things happen to fast at this point. Words exchanged, hollow words pumped out by pure effort, pretend you are in control, the blonde told himself. Too many words were hitting him, then Snape. The blonde was shoved aside, the old man sounded pleading, saying that man's name as if it would be his redemption.
"Avada Kedvra!" The old man was gone.
The next thing the blonde knew, he was being shoved towards the exit, the old man had fallen off of the tower. That offer falling along with him. He bolted through the castle, his schoolmates, those people he hated, they were battling. Fighting off grown men, some of them. Snape still urged him on. He ran. Down the stairs, dodging bodies and curses, into the front hall, out of the doors. The cool air hitting him, and his mind wandering over to where the old man had fallen to. Keep going, that was his mission now. He thought of nothing else, not being guided by Snape, a man he would sooner disown than obey, and he thought nothing of Potter hot on them, where had he come from? Close to the gates, that voice ripped through the night, it was Potter, he was again slinging spells at the blonde. Snape's voice cut over it though,
"Run, Draco!" Oh, and he obeyed. He didn't even look back, once out of school grounds, he disapparated, so much for being licensed.
Perhaps that was all too inconsequential to mention again? What more have we learned from reading that than from what we've read before? The blonde was a coward, Snape lived up to his vow to protect him, and the old man was now dead because of a blonde boy and his inability to do anything right. What have we learned? We learned, damn it all, that Slytherins have hearts. First of all, allow me to put this question to you. Why did Lord Voldemort, I say his name because I do not fear him, send a sixteen-year-old boy to do a job that he himself could not accomplish? Did he do it to mock the boy? Did he know that the boy would not be able to do it and therefore he would have an excuse for killing off the whole of the Malfoy family? I wasn't aware that Lord Voldemort needed excuses to kill anyone.
Or perhaps he did it for amusement? Let us entertain this idea for a while, he might have thought, let us see how far the boy is willing to go for his pitiful excuse for a family. Did he do it because he was jealous of Draco? Only he knows, and I am sure he does not feel the need to explain such things to us. Back to what I said before. Slytherins have hearts. Most of the time we are seen, I say we because I am a Slytherin, as cold and unfeeling. The boy had love for his family, Snape clutched to honor, and Lord Voldemort hadn't killed the boy after two failed attempts. I am not, however, trying to convince you to buddy up to a Slytherin. Not at all, stay away from us because we want nothing to do with you. I am, however, saying this. What I have just told you is the truth, as I see it. And from this point on, this is the story as I write it.
Are the evil ones really evil? And are the good ones really innocent? It takes a crook to catch a thief, and so therefore, it must take a snake to catch a scorpion. This is the story of Harry Potter and what he will do, how far he will go, for the honor of his family. This is the story of how far Draco Malfoy has fallen from the pride of his family and the clearness of his future. In times of war people do drastic things, in times of grief people do rash things, and in times of panic people do downright stupid things. How can anything good, truly good, come from something that was set up upon pure evil?
Harry Potter made his excuses after sitting for fifteen minutes at the reception. The ceremony itself was beautiful, but the emptiness inside of him ruined most of it. He sat there and saw Bill's brothers all there at his side, Charlie up front close to him, acting as best man. Flashes of Sirius Black ran through Harry's mind. The best man at his parent's wedding, he became bitter. When it was announced that Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour were husband and wife, they kissed. Flashes of soft kisses with Ginny sparked through Harry's mind, and he became depressed. Clapping and shouting from the crowd as the couple, smiling faces and bright eyes, came rushing down the isle, in the mix of it all, Harry could hear and see Madam Maxime, flashes of a tall man, with a crooked nose and long white hair bombarded Harry's mind, and he became resentful.
That's why, after fifteen minutes, Harry could stand it no longer. People had come up to him, shaking his hands, speaking softly to him like he was an infant. And it aggravated him, Don't talk to me, I didn't get married! Go to Bill and Fleur, this is their day! Another reason why he left. It bothered him too much to be the Boy Who Lived on their wedding day. He thought he was going to be able to sneak out quietly, but then,
"Harry?" He knew the voice, it was Ginny. The whole day he had not looked at her. He didn't want to look at her, he knew she would be gorgeous, and that sight he couldn't handle. He stopped walking, his back to her,
"Yeah?"
"Will you dance with me?" The music had started up in the background. He could already hear the happiness all around him. He sighed.
"I'm not much of a dancer." He said, his mind flashing back to his experience at the Yule Ball.
"Well, that's okay, none of us here ever won anything special for being able to dance." She said. Alright, I'll dance with her, he thought, but I won't look at her. He turned around, and in a fashion that he copied straight from Dumbledore, he managed to acknowledge Ginny without even looking at her.
"Just one." He told her right shoulder.
She pulled him onto the dance floor, he looked everywhere but at her, big mistake. Molly Weasely was looking at the two of them as if all her dreams had come true. Arthur Weasely was looking at them with pride. The twins were busy with their own dates, but he was sure if they had looked at him they would be mocking him in any way they could, Ron was busy with Hermione. Now she looked beautiful, and Harry was happy that he could look at her, she deserved to be looked at, after Ron had ignored her for so long, that is. Everyone else looked at them as if they knew it all along. Harry shuddered to think what they would say.
"Spitting image o' Lily and James." Hagrid would say.
"Now he will really be our son!" Mrs. Weasely would gush.
"Ronnikins will finally have that little brother he's always wanted." A twin would say.
"Don't listen to them, Harry." Ginny would say. And then she would rest her head on his shoulder and the two of them would dance in their own little word and all would be well.
Reality seeped in. And in fact, too many people were staring at them. The members of the Order were looking at Harry, and Moody's voice barked out from his one good eye loud enough for Harry to hear in his mind,
"You know you've got a job to do, Potter. No use mucking your mind up with love!" A great disgust with himself was causing him to stumble over his feet, and he felt like a fool, having stepped already twice on Ginny's feet.
"Calm down." She said, he could hear the grin on her face, but he didn't want to look at her. He focused instead on Neville and Luna, Neville couldn't dance to save his life, but neither could she. They both just glided around, bumping into people and laughing about it.
"Harry, will you look at me?" Ginny asked. Her voice a bit stern and a bit soft. He glanced over at her, focusing on her cheekbones. If he looked into her eyes, he'd be a goner.
"Are you okay?" She asked. He nodded. And the song ended.
"Alright Gin, I'm done." He was readying himself for her protesting, he was readying himself to tell her he had a headache, a stomachache, anything to get her to let him leave. But he didn't have to. She understood, and it was that which made him feel worse.
"Okay Harry, thanks…for the dance." He nodded, shoved his hands into his pockets, and headed for solitude. He was nervous that he wouldn't make it out fast enough for someone to not notice him, but, as if acting upon cue, the twins unleashed a display of fireworks that were tailored to Bill and Fleur, the crowd, distracted by the grandiose attraction, was just the cover Harry needed to slip out, unnoticed.
He held his head down as he hurried away from the party. He had wanted to live it up, wanted to party his worries away, but when Lord Voldemort's split soul was your worry, and things like death, murder, and evil loomed in your mind, a party was not something that could chase it all away. I'd need a lobotomy for something like that, Harry thought. He made it to his room, well, to the camp bed that served as his room anyways, and he sat upon the bed and watched the party from the window. He was sinking into a cloud of depression, with a sigh, he flung himself onto his back and closed his eyes, willing his nonexistent, yet persisting, headache to go away.
And he must have dozed off, for when he next opened his eyes, it was a bit darker outside than it had been before, he glanced outside and the party was still in full swing, perhaps fueled more by the darkness of the night and the chill of the air. Harry definitely felt a bit colder than before. He sat up and stretched, yawned, and slumped back satisfied after he heard cracking noises coming from his back.
"I thought you'd never wake up." A voice interrupted the silence. Harry started, he grabbed for his wand but then relaxed when he noticed it was only Ron. The redhead was sitting on the bed next to Harry's and was holding out a bottle of Butterbeer.
"Here, take it, Fred spiked it with some of Odgen's firewhiskey. It burns like hell when you drink it, but the feeling you get once its in your stomach is nice." He sipped from his own bottle and winced for a second, but then relaxed after another second.
"Cheers." Harry said as he took the bottle, he tipped it up and swallowed a huge amount. He felt like his throat was on fire, for only a moment, and then the liquid bubbled into his gut, leaving him with a warm feeling on the inside.
"How long have you been up here?" Harry asked. His friend looked pale in the moonlight, neither one of them made to turn on a light.
"Half an hour." He shrugged and sipped again, Harry did the same, and when the warm feeling was rocking in his stomach, he said,
"Why didn't you just wake me up?"
"What for? You're so darned adorable when you sleep." Harry cracked a smirk, his best friend was smiling. "Nah, I thought you might need some rest."
"Thanks."
"That, and Ginny told me she would administer her Bat-Boogey hex on me every other second that you weren't at the party. So, I decided it would be best if I camped up here until you made her all calm again." Harry's smiled widened.
"Ginny wouldn't be calmed by me, she's her own boss." He said taking another swig, she was her own boss, and that was yet something else he loved about her.
"Anyways, enough about her. Are you okay?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged.
"I don't want to talk about myself." Then suddenly, as if he just remembered something, "Damn it Ron, why are you up here wasting your time with me when your oldest brother and his new wife are down there?" He pointed at the party outside the window. His voice was a bit angry.
"Calm down Harry, Bill doesn't mind. He and Fleur are too in love to really care."
"Well I care, this isn't about me today. Its about them, go on and get your arse back down there and don't worry about me." He snapped. Ron rolled his eyes.
"Its not about you, eh? Harry, stop all the crap. I know its not about you, but do you? Here you are telling me to not worry about you, to not give a toss about you and yet you make yourself noticeable by your absence!" Ron looked a bit red in the face, Harry eyed him carefully.
"Did Hermione tell you to say that?" For a moment, Ron looked ready to say no, but then he just shrugged.
"I liked the way it sounded." The two were smiling again. Ron finished his drink.
"Fleur, by the way, was actually wondering about you for a second. 'Where eez 'Arry? I haven't gotteen my dance wiz 'im.' I'm telling you mate, get back down there or a whole load of women will be up here to drag you back down there. And just remember, they have nails." Harry felt a whole lot better, maybe it was the drink? He finished his too and then got up.
"Lets go then." He told Ron. His friend stood up with him and the two went back to the party. Harry danced with Fleur, Hermione, twice with Luna, once with Mrs. Weasley, Tonks, and then once more with Ginny. But that last one with Ginny was done away from everyone else, he asked her to dance with him in the dark, away from the party. They danced in the moonlight, and he was able to look at her, but he didn't see her clearly. He wanted to tell her that he loved her, he wanted to ask her to marry him. But he didn't. What would be the point in asking her to marry him when he didn't expect to live to see his wedding date? She kissed him on the cheek, he felt it sizzle there for hours after the kiss. And when everyone started to crowd around the two newlyweds who were on their way to their honeymoon, they held hands and threw pixie dust at Bill and Fleur.
Harry was happy, for the moment. And not one thought of evil, death, or murder was on his mind. All he thought about was Ginny's hand, and whether or not his mother and father would have been happy with him at this moment.
The next day, was the day. He, Ron and Hermione were going to take a trip to number four Privet Drive. Mrs. Weasely had outfitted them all with a giant breakfast, and they all filed out of the Burrow. Hermione and Ron, Ron now being a licensed apparation card holder, told Harry to grab hold of his arm, and that horrible feeling of being squeezed through a tube heralded their arrival on Privet Drive. The sky was still dark, morning having not made its full appearance on this street just yet. The three of them walked towards Harry's childhood home, and the term home is used loosely here. Hermione, having never been to this place, looked around with mild interest, Ron, who had only seen the inside of the house, regarded the normal outside lawn, the gleaming car in the drive, and the uniformity of all of the surrounding houses shook his head and spoke the first words in the empty area,
"Geez mate, this place is depressing." Harry smirked, nodding and leading the way to the front door,
"Yeah. Imagine having to live here while not at Hogwarts." At the door Harry realized that he did not own a set of keys. He looked at his two companions,
"Damn." Hermione sighed and took out her wand, Ron looked around to make sure no one was watching. She whispered the incantation, and the door remained still. They all blinked.
"Did you say it right?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes,
"Ron, I said it correctly. It must be part of the protection of this place, Harry, I think they have to let you in." Harry sighed and raised his fist to knock on the door. The sound echoed through the silent air. The response was quicker than Harry had anticipated, someone was walking towards them and Harry could see the tall and thin blurred image of his aunt through the glass on the door.
Her bony head poked out, and when she saw Harry there, with a tall and lanky red head, and a petite bushy haired girl, her scowl was magnified.
"What are you doing here?" she asked her only nephew. Harry sighed.
"My birthday is tomorrow." He said. She laughed,
"And you wanted us to celebrate with a party?" Harry was patient.
"Look, you remember what was said that summer. I am supposed to come back here before my seventeenth birthday. You know that. I'm just here for one day, by tomorrow morning, I will be gone and you will never have to see me again. Oh, and my friends are staying too." Petunia eyed her nephew, it looked as if she was ready to deny him anything. Harry wondered if she knew that the man who sent her, her nephew was now dead. She sighed and took a step back.
"Keep quiet and keep in your room. Your uncle is getting ready for work and Duddy is still sleeping." She snapped. The three of them stepped into the house. Memories flooded through Harry's mind. His eyes lingered on the cupboard underneath the stairs. To be honest, he wanted to shut himself inside of his cupboard and leave it at that. Let Voldemort kill everyone, let the dark side win, and Harry would be safely locked in his cupboard. But, before he could even go towards it, Hermione put her hand on his shoulder and whispered for him to show them the room.
Harry led them up the stairs, the bottom step creaking as they all stepped on it, and soon enough they stepped into Harry's small room. He slumped onto his bed, Ron taking a seat atop his desk, and Hermione sitting primly on his desk chair. Harry sighed. This was the first time he actually had people to entertain in his room. He wanted to smile, but couldn't find the strength. They all sat there in silence, they heard Dudley's snores, and eventually, they heard Harry's Uncle Vernon coming out from the bathroom, going down the stairs, and from the shouting that was going on in the kitchen, he was sure that his aunt told him of Harry's presence.
"That damned boy is more trouble than he is worth! This is the last time Petunia, once he turns seventeen, the very second, HE IS OUT!" The words were magnified in the small house. Harry didn't look at his friends, but he could feel their eyes.
The morning crept into the house, Ron's eyes were looking outside the window, he saw as a large man left the house, kissed his bony wife goodbye and then rolled out of the drive on his way to work. Hermione's eyes were going from one corner of the room to the other, this was all Harry had when he came back to this place, no wonder why he didn't want to stay here. And Harry's eyes focused on the top of his bed sheets. He would never have to come back to this place, suddenly, he wished that Ron and Hermione weren't with him.
After a while, Hermione cleared her throat.
"Harry…" He looked up at her. "Would you mind if Ron and I went downstairs and talked with your aunt?" Harry scoffed.
"Don't waste your breath Hermione, that woman wouldn't want to talk to you anymore than she would want to talk to me." He sounded bitter. Hermione left it at that, Ron, however, took over.
"Look mate, we can't just sit up here in silence, we'll all go mad." Harry looked over at him,
"Its what I do most of the time I'm here anyways. They ignore me, I sit here quietly, it works out real nicely." Ron and Hermione shared a look. It bothered Harry.
"There is a small park down the street." He started, "You and Hermione could go down there."
"What about you?" Hermione asked. He shrugged.
"I don't feel much like leaving."
"Do you want us to leave, Harry?" She asked quietly. He sighed.
"No…yes. I don't know." Hermione got up.
"I have an idea. Ron and I are going to go out and get a cake, then we are going to make sure we have your presents in order, and at midnight, we will have a birthday party for you in your room. Sound good?" Harry gave a hollow bark of a laugh,
"Sounds great, Hermione." He said. She smiled and grabbed Ron's hand. Harry got up.
"Let me walk you out, she might be hovering around the front door waiting to throw a net over the lot of us and drag us to the kitchen where she can toss us into a boiling pot or something." Ron gave Harry a laugh, and Hermione gave a nervous smile. The three of them were just about to exit the room, Harry was already in the doorway, when Dudley finally made his appearance. He looked really different. He had a weird look about him, as if his clothes were way too big on him. Harry remembered what Dumbledore had said about the Dursley's practically ruining Dudley's life. Maybe his cousin had taken his life into his own hands.
"Hi Dudley." Harry said. His cousin looked at him, the tormenter of the younger Harry, the very person whom Harry first learned to loathe. His cousin glared at Harry, then looked at the two people behind him, then, he nodded.
"Hey Harry." And he hurriedly went down the stairs. They followed him. Harry saw his two friends out of the front door, and then turned to go into the kitchen.
"When is he leaving?" He heard Dudley's voice.
"Tomorrow, early tomorrow."
"Is that old man with him?"
"No, he brought two of his unnatural friends with him. As if he thinks they intimidate us… Your father told me that he was bringing home protection. So I want you to steer clear of this place, go to one of your little friend's houses Diddy darling." Harry decided to not go into the kitchen, he looked at the door to his cupboard, he looked around, and then opened it. It was empty and had the lonely feeling of a place that had not been visited in a long time. Harry smiled and let himself in. It was a cramped fit, but he was able to arrange himself comfortably enough. He closed the door and didn't move.
A while later, Dudley left the kitchen, went upstairs, and came back down an hour later and yelled to him mother that he was leaving.
"Bye Diddydums, be careful!" She shouted. Harry wondered, as he heard the drone of a television being turned on, if his mother would have had little names for him. He wondered how the simple name Harry could be altered into some term of endearment. After a long time, perhaps another hour, he was able to come up with nothing, nothing at all.
Shortly after his unfruitful attempt at thinking up a name, he heard a sharp knock on the cupboard door.
"Get out of there!" His aunt snapped. Harry sighed, did she want him to mind the bacon? Or perhaps was she going to try and hit him upside the head with a soapy frying pan again? He struggled getting out of the small room. He unfolded his body out of the room and stood, almost looming, over his aunt.
"Why were you in there? And where are those two…people you came with?"
"I was in there because it's my cupboard, and my two friends went off to find me a cake and presents, you know, the kind of thing someone does for someone else they love when its their birthday." She completely ignored this.
"You stay in your room, you said you would. Don't come down here, hiding in that cupboard like some…some…freak." She said. Harry sighed.
"I'm hungry, would you mind if I made something for myself?" She looked absolutely horrified.
"Don't you get my kitchen dirty!" She bellowed and stomped off back into the front sitting room. Harry sighed and went into the kitchen, he stuck his head into the refrigerator and looked around. He settled on making himself a sandwich. As he ate his sandwich, he cleaned up his mess. He didn't notice that his aunt was watching his every movement, and was quite startled when she spoke,
"Why do you need to be here for your birthday?" He jumped up nervously and almost dropped his food. He turned to face her, swallowing his mouthful.
"I'm not really sure. It's just what Dumbledore told me to do, so I'm doing it."
"Why isn't that man here with you?" Harry sighed, he looked down at his half eaten sandwich.
"He died…a professor at my school killed him." His aunt made a scandalized noise.
"You people!" She said with disgust, "You backwards people going around killing each other! Just as well, the less there are of your kind, the better."
"You know, Petunia," Harry started, "I don't know why I even bother trying to talk to you. You're whole little family is just worthless. While you three sit here worrying about stupid things, I am out there, putting my life on the line for my people. You have no idea who the boy is who stands before you. I always wondered if you would be proud of me, in some small way. If you would ever be proud of me. You, who raised me from an infant, you whose sister's dead eyes you look into when ever you look at me, why do you hate me?" She had an ugly look on her face.
"I hate you because you are just like her!" Great, Snape hated Harry because he was like James, and his Aunt Petunia hated him because he was just like Lily. When would people get it that Harry was just like Harry? He rolled his eyes and started to leave the kitchen. She let him.
Harry went back to his room and sat where Ron was before, looking outside into the street. The food satisfied his stomach, but it tasted horrible. He wiped the crumbs from his shirt and went back to looking outside. He smiled when he noticed a very conspicuous looking Ron and Hermione walking towards the house. He laughed as he got up and headed down to the front door. He opened it before they could knock.
"Hey Harry!" Hermione greeted him. Ron smiled and showed him all the wrapped things in his arms.
"Look at this, seems that people like you or something Harry." Harry laughed and let them in.
"Do you think your aunt would let me put the cake in the kitchen?" Harry shrugged.
"Who cares, just put it in there. They wont touch it, might be full of dark magic or something.'
"Oh Harry, you shouldn't be like that, they are your family." Harry rolled his eyes,
"Just don't mention that around them." He muttered. They waited for Hermione to put the cake away and then the three of them headed back to his room.
"So, what did you do while we were away?" Hermione asked.
"I sat in a cupboard under the stairs and tried to think of names that my mother would have called me." Ron and Hermione shared a look with each other, Harry had sat in a cupboard? They decided not to say anything about that,
"Why would your mum call you names?" Ron asked. Harry smiled.
"You know, the kind of names your mum calls you, Ronnikins." He said. Ron blushed.
"Shut it with that." He said. Hermione looked at Harry thoughtfully.
"Well, isn't Harry short for Harold?" Harry wrinkled his nose.
"God, that's an awful name!" He said. Ron laughed.
"No, I think my name is Harry, just Harry." Hermione looked thoughtful again.
"Well, maybe she would have just called you dear, or something." Harry nodded.
"Yeah, I guess."
They passed the time with idle chitchat, Ron was wondering what everyone got for Harry, and Hermione seemed keen on thinking up a nickname for Harry. After a while, they heard a car pulling into the front drive.
"My uncle is home. My aunt told me that he was brining home, 'protection.'" Ron looked outside with interest,
"You mean like a fireleg or something?" Harry smiled.
"Firearm, and I wouldn't put it past him." The three of them spent time playing a Muggle board game that Harry found in his wardrobe and after a few rounds of the game, Harry's Uncle Vernon came knocking on the door.
"Who is it?" Harry called out, in a good mood from the fun of the game, Ron was still perplexed at having to move his own man around the board, and didn't understand when Hermione told him he had to roll the dice in order to move it first.
"You know damn well who it is boy, come out here." Harry rolled his eyes and the other two got quiet. Harry went to the door and opened it just a fraction, he saw his uncle's red face there.
"Oh, Uncle Vernon, its you." He heard Ron snigger, and heard as Hermione told him to be quiet. Uncle Vernon eyed his two friends,
"Come out here so I can speak to you properly." His uncle said.
"Please." Harry told him. His uncle looked confused,
"Please what?" Harry sighed.
"You forgot to say please. Civilized people say please when requesting something." Harry was tired of taking crap from this man, in a few hours he would be of age in his world and could leave and never come back. His uncle looked ready to blow a gasket.
"How dare you…me, say that in my house. You…you ungrateful little beast." Harry rolled his eyes and closed the door on his fuming uncle.
"Harry, you should really be a bit more polite to your uncle." Hermione chastised.
"I will be when he is to me." Harry said, happily sitting back down to roll his turn. There was another knock on the door,
"Come in." Harry called in a sing-song voice. Ron was beside himself with sniggers.
"Would you please come out and speak with me." He uncle said in a hurry. Harry got up and followed his uncle out.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
"Your aunt wanted to know if you and your…friends would be interested in having dinner with the family." Harry felt his own confusion rising. He slowly thought about it,
"That would be…nice." He said. His uncle scoffed and went downstairs,
"Ten minutes." He said. Harry nodded and stepped into the room.
"We're due for dinner in ten minutes." He told his friends. Hermione smiled and Ron looked interested,
"Wait until dad hears I had dinner with those Muggles!" He said excitedly.
Dinner was an awkward affair. Dudley had come back, and Harry noticed how he ate his food with more patience, he also noticed how little he served himself, and how he made it last. Ron had been entertained by the idea of oven mitts, and muttered that he wanted to get a pair for his dad next Christmas. Hermione tried at conversation, she knew the right things to say, 'wonderful pot roast, Mrs. Dursley, is it your own recipe?' and, 'your home is so beautiful, Mrs. Dursley.' Harry and Ron were having trouble trying not to laugh. His aunt never answered her, just gave little grunts. His uncle darted his eyes at each of them in turn, took a bite, his eyes were on Harry, chewing, his eyes were on Ron, swallowing, and his eyes were on Hermione, that's how it went.
When they were done eating, Hermione got up to help clear the table, and Harry's aunt looked absolutely panicked.
"That…That's alright, you don't have to help." She said. Hermione sat back down.
"Excellent nosh, Petunia." Harry muttered. His uncle heard him, and the beefy man glared at his nephew,
"Close to your birthday or not, you will address your aunt as your aunt, she is not 'Petunia' to you, boy." He said. Harry said nothing. It was just a joke.
"Now, to business, how long are you going to sit here?" Harry glared at him.
"First of all, we were invited to sit down here, and secondly, I told my Aunt Petunia that I would be here until tomorrow morning, if that." Harry snapped. Hermione was shaking her head, and Ron was looking nervous.
"Don't you take that tone with me, boy. You will show me the amount of respect that is rightfully mine under this roof." Harry shot up and pointed at his uncle.
"I am sick and tired of people telling me to how them respect when they don't respect me! I am done with it! You leave me and my friends alone for the rest of the evening, Dursley, as soon as it hits midnight, I am damned gone. I can't wait to get the hell out of here!" He looked at his silent friends,
"Let's go." They got up and followed him up to his small room.
The time passed slowly. Harry never really looked forward to his birthday, but this one was different, this one meant his freedom. He was anxious. Ron suggested he opened some of his presents, he did, and they passed some time with looking at everything. It all seemed like much more in the boxes Ron had brought them in.
"Do we want cake yet?" Hermione asked. Stabbing at the silence. Harry shrugged.
"Okay, sure, why not." He said, they all went back downstairs, his relatives were in the front room, watching television. They took the cake to Harry's room, and forgetting plates and such, Harry shrugged and dug his hand into the pastry.
"Oh Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked with a tired voice. Ron just smirked,
"Brilliant." He dug his hands into it as well. The two boys sat eating happily while Hermione conjured herself a fork.
"When did you learn to do that?" Ron asked, she shrugged.
"A while ago." She sat taking forkfuls of cake while the other two clawed through it.
"Harry almost birthday, Harry." Hermione said. Ron nodded.
"Cheers, mate." Harry just smiled and continued with his cake. On his mind were his next plans. He would go to Godric's Hollow, pay respect to his parents, then the hunt would be on. Hermione gave out an excited squeal,
"Harry, its eleven thirty!" she said. Harry smiled.
"I don't know how long I have to wait here, Dumbledore told me to just visit this place before I turned seventeen."
"You know Harry, I think I know what you need to do. I think you need your aunt and uncle to tell you that you are welcomed back here at any time. I mean, that makes this place still your home." Harry sighed.
"Getting the Dursleys to invite me back here after midnight tonight would be a miracle."
"We could put them under the Imperius Curse." Ron suggested, Hermione snorted,
"Don't be thick, Ron. That would land us in prison." Ron shrugged and sat licking his fingers. Harry laughed.
"Malfoy had Madam Rosemerta under the Imperius and he wasn't sent to Azkaban." He said. Hermione rolled her eyes,
"Yeah, and we want to be just like Malfoy, don't we?" Harry shrugged, quite like Ron had.
"I think you just need to go down there an explain this to them, Harry." She said.
"Hermione, they don't care if I live or die. Why should they help me if they don't really have to? I don't have Dumbledore or Sirius around to enforce anything. Its just me, and if they haven't respected me in the past, then why would they now?"
"Because you're a man now Harry, you're no longer a little boy. So don't act like one. That outburst, while long overdue, was the action of a little boy. Not of the man you are." She said. Ron avoided looking at Harry, much interested in his fingers than anything else. Harry sighed.
"What would the man version of me have to bring to the Dursleys that the boy version couldn't?" Hermione shook her head, as if she thought she was surrounded by children.
"Protection, Harry. Protection." Five to twelve, and Harry headed down the stairs. Ron and Hermione said they would wait for him in the room, Harry had to do this alone. He found his uncle sitting in front of the TV, his aunt had fallen asleep, and Dudley must have gone back to his room. Harry waited until commercial, and then spoke,
"Uncle Vernon?" The man got up and turned to look at Harry.
"Twelve is it? Here to tell me to sod off and die, then?" He asked. Harry wanted to laugh, but he didn't, he shook his head.
"I need to speak with you, please?" His uncle looked at his watch,
"You have four minutes to speak to me." Harry took a breath, his uncle stared at his watch, and not at him.
"I just wanted to start with saying thank you." His uncle looked up.
"What?"
"Thank you and thank Aunt Petunia. I know we never liked each other, ever, but I owe a lot to the two of you. After all, you raised me until I started going to Hogwarts, and even though I bring danger everywhere I go, you still let me back into your house."
"That was because that old man made my wife promise to, it wasn't by our choice!" Uncle Vernon made clear. Harry nodded.
"Yes, I understand, but thanks anyways. Thanks for not putting me in some orphanage, and thanks for keeping me…alive. I just wanted to let you know that even though I will be leaving, if you ever need something from me, I would be more than glad to help you."
"We don't need anything from you, boy. I've been able to support my family for a long time now…"
"No, I don't mean money. I know you don't need money. I mean…I know you don't like me being a wizard," His uncle flinched at this,
"Don't use that word, boy!"
"…but I can help you all the same. I don't know what is going to happen in the future, but I know that I will do my best to make sure your family is safe from my enemies."
"What enemies have you got?" Harry sighed.
"A whole bunch."
"All the better to get you out of here." Harry was getting frustrated.
"Listen, what I am trying to say is that I will protect you like you protected me, alright?" His uncle looked at him cautiously.
"Do you think then, that we would need protection from the people who are out to get you?" He asked. Harry shrugged.
"They don't seem to mind killing off the people I care about." His uncle said nothing for a moment.
"What do you want in return?" Harry sighed.
"Nothing, don't you get it, this is my way of saying thanks for everything. I leave here, but I will make sure you're family will be forever protected." He didn't know if he had the power to actually do this, but saying it made him feel…grown.
"You need something from me, otherwise you wouldn't be making this offer. Thank you indeed, boy, I don't need your thanking!" Harry sighed.
"Look, I'm going to protect your family whether or not you believe me, and okay, yes I do need something from you."
"Aha! I knew it, what is it then, you need money, don't you?" Harry sighed,
"No, my parents left me their fortune when they died. I don't need any money."
"Fortune eh? Look at you, alright then Mr. Potter, what do you need from me?" Harry sighed.
"I just need you to tell me that I am welcomed back here any time."
"You're not." Harry wanted to punch his uncle.
"Please, just listen. My power somehow comes from here, in a way." He shook his head, he wasn't making any sense. "I just need you to say I'm welcomed back here. I don't know why, but as long as I am welcomed back to this place…I will always have a home. And I…I need that." His uncle looked ready to deny him that. He looked ready to triumph for the last time over his nephew by denying him what he needed. It would be his greatest win over the boy, it would give him such power that he never felt he had whenever it came to Harry. He looked crazed, and Harry was ready to hear him say, no. But…
"You…you are welcomed here any time you need to come back. Now get out." His uncle said, his stubby finger pointed at the front door. Harry saw the watch on his wrist said that it was a couple of minutes after twelve, he was seventeen. He nodded.
"Thank you." He turned around and headed back up the stairs. His uncle went back to the front room. He entered his room and sighed,
"Lets go, everything is alright. I did what I was supposed to do." His friends exchanged a look, but they got up and followed him downstairs. He wanted to say goodbye to his uncle and aunt, but didn't. He left through the front door, and looked back only once to see the glow of the TV from the window. He looked up and down the street of Privet Drive, he wondered if he would ever come back. He and his friends walked over to the cover of some trees, and Hermione and Ron helped him to Apparate away from his past. He felt like crying.
Harry Potter had found some closure in one area of his life. He felt safer, but he felt alone. Very alone. It occurred to him that he was born to be alone, and he felt very upset by this. He couldn't have parents, he couldn't have a godfather, he couldn't have a mentor, he couldn't have his aunt and uncle, and he certainly couldn't have Ginny. He was beginning to fear that he couldn't have Ron and Hermione either. But for right now, I am going to leave Harry, Ron and Hermione alone for a while. They need some alone time. Now I am going to take you to the one who started our story. The one who was crying in the sink. The one who couldn't feel alone because no one would leave him alone.
Before Draco could even try and peek outside of the window, the wrist that was connected to the hand that was trying to push aside the curtain was caught sharply, and pulled away.
"What is in your head, boy? Stay away from the windows!" Draco scowled at the man in front of him, he hadn't noticed him in the room. Snape made sure that the curtains were in place and then grabbed onto Draco's wrist again, he pulled the blonde up and led him deeper into the house.
"Let go of me, I am perfectly capable of leading myself around!" He said disdainfully.
"Clearly not," Snape muttered, "I leave you alone for five minutes and you go wandering around trying to poke your obviously blonde head into public just to have it sizzled off!" They were in the kitchen, Snape let go of him and pointed to a chair, "Sit." He said.
"I'm not a dog, don't you give me one worded orders!" He sneered, but he sat.
The silent tension was palpable, the older man glared down at the boy who was holding him back, and the blonde teenager glared up at the old man who was holding him captive. The acute loathing that was once concentrated on so many others had no other outlet save for the two of them. They were alone, hidden in some Muggle house that was opened to them by Snape's perfect Imperius charm. He made the couple believe that they were long overdue for their second honeymoon, and they left, hand in hand, without clothes, and probably without destination.
"Then do not disobey me like some petulant puppy." Snape said after a while. Draco rolled his eyes and sat seething silently. He knew better than to provoke Snape farther, he would wait an hour or so, and then rile the old man up again. Snape strode over to the cabinets that lined the wall, from one of them he grabbed a squat, darkly colored bottle, two glasses, and came back to the table. He sat down, poured amber liquid into both of the glasses and shoved a glass towards Draco. Draco took it up quickly and threw back the liquid, he winced as it burned down his throat, Snape scoffed.
"Have you learned nothing yet?" He shook his head and sipped at his own drink. "You didn't even inspect it, that could have been poison." Draco grabbed the bottle and poured himself another.
"I was actually hoping it was poison. Even death would be better than sitting around this Muggle house with you." Snape bared his teeth, then sipped at his drink again,
"Ungrateful little brat." He snapped. Draco ignored him and sipped at his drink slowly, imitating Snape's rehearsed pauses. Severus noticed this and held back the indulgent smile, the boy could pretend to loathe him all he wanted, but Snape knew better. He knew Draco well enough to understand the boy's mode of operation. He would whine, he could complain, but no matter what, he was always learning something.
"What is this rubbish?" He asked, Snape wanted to chuckle, a lesson in drinks was in order, he believed.
"Brandy." He said simply. Draco nodded and licked his lips.
After a while of the two silently sharing drinks, drinks that made Draco clam down and that made Snape tolerable, Draco looked up at his former professor.
"May I use the restroom, or do I have to be escorted there by you as well?" Snape shook his head,
"Go on, but if you take longer than five minutes, I will come for you. Five minutes, that should be adequate time to piss, puke, or poo." Draco wanted to laugh, he had never heard the stern man say such a word. But he bit it back, there was no need to be overcome with Stockholm Syndrome, the first chance he got, he was going to run. But, now was not the opportune moment, he went to the bathroom, took his 'piss' and then went back to the kitchen to find Snape there, his eyes focused on the nearly half empty bottle. Draco reassumed his seat, a plan formulating in his mind.
"Is brandy usually a very strong drink, sir?" He asked. Snape looked up, almost as if he was shocked to see Draco there. He blinked and ran through the question in his mind.
"Excuse me?… oh, no. Well, not for me at any rate. It would take a couple shots of Odgen's Firewhisky to do me in. But these Muggles don't have anything, the closest thing they have is that repulsive Jack Daniels." Snape took another, finishing, sip and poured himself another. Draco felt a bit lightheaded, it may not work for Snape, but it was working for him. Snape looked at the clock on the wall behind Draco's head.
"Bed." He said to Draco. Draco narrowed his eyes.
"I am seventeen years old, you can not tell me what to do." He said. Snape dragged his eyes up to slowly meet Draco's. The blonde hated it when he did that, it gave Snape a maniacal look.
"Go. To. Bed." He said simply. His tone was dripping with warning. Draco felt himself shaking, not with fear, but with rage. He wanted to lash out, to punch Snape, to wring his neck, anything… but he didn't. He hated it when he had to obey someone, every single time his father barked at him to do something, he did it, and he raged on the inside. So, he allowed himself to rage again. He got up, inclined his head at Snape, and left towards the ridiculous room that housed the only bed.
They had been at the Muggle home for about three days, three days which were preceded by four weeks of hiding, of ducking low and breaking into Muggle homes. In the last three days, Draco couldn't recall a night where he saw Snape sleeping. In fact, he wasn't sure that the man had slept at all during the past four weeks. Draco smirked to himself, even with potions, sleep was something that could not be set aside. Soon enough the man would find himself sleeping, and that was the opportune moment that Draco was waiting for.
In a considerably happier mood, Draco snuggled deeply into the big bed. It was cushy, and warm, the pillows were excellent, and despite having to sleep and live in the same clothing he had worn that horrible night so many days ago, he felt perfectly content. He fell asleep immediately, a wonderful plan working itself in his head as he slept.
Meanwhile, Snape was still sitting at the table. He was watching the clock, and after fifteen minutes or so, he got up and went down to the room where Draco was sleeping. He opened the door silently and looked in on the boy. When he decided that he was asleep and not pretending, Snape left the room and went to the sitting room. He sat down on the couch. He leaned over and took off his boots, he sat up and started to unbutton his robes. He tossed aside the heavy black fabric and reclined on the couch in his white shirt and black trousers. He rested his head down on the arm of the couch and crossed his ankles, he folded his arms, and let himself rest.
Not fifteen minutes go by until Severus heard a noise outside. He sat up with a jolt, and his hand quickly grabbed onto his wand. Thinking that stealth would be easier without his boots, Severus crept over to the window and pushed the curtain to the side marginally to look outside. He snarled, a Muggle law enforcement vehicle was parked right outside of the house. A podgy man in a blue uniform was getting out of his car, a flashlight already in his hand. Severus cursed and let the curtain fall.
It would have been easier to just use magic to get rid of the disturbance, but that would lead to a whole lot more questions than Severus was prepared to deal with. He hurriedly grabbed his robe and his boots and quickly padded his way down to where he left Draco. As he was pulling his boots on, he barked at Draco,
"Get up, Get up quickly!" He reached over and started to shake the sleeping blonde. Draco sat up quickly, looking around,
"What's happened?" He asked. Severus got up, boots on and threw his robe over him.
"We're leaving, quickly now, lets go." Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door, Draco, who was grabbing his shoes, stopped dead. Severus looked at him,
"Hurry!" He snarled. Draco forgot the shoes and sped after Snape who was hurrying to the back door. He waited there patiently as Draco ran up beside him. Snape was going to open the back door when he noticed a beam of light coming towards them through the curtain. He reached out to stop Draco, he rested his finger to his lips, telling Draco to be quiet. The blonde felt himself go numb, despite them just being Muggles, he was getting scared.
The knock on the front door echoed as the man outside knocked again. Snape grabbed onto Draco's arm and led him back to the bedroom. Draco followed, quickly, his heart beating madly. Loud noises echoed outside, someone calling out a salutation,
"Hello, is anyone home?" Draco almost let out a noise, but Snape gripped his wrist firmly and that squeezed out that idea. In the room, Severus looked out of the window, satisfied with what he saw, he turned to Draco.
"Listen, and do not even think to disobey me." Draco was nodding. "Once outside, I want you to head for the train station, its three blocks up this street, and two blocks east. Once you get there, wait for me, if I am not there by dawn. Leave on the next train, no matter where it is going." He reached into his pocket and handed Draco a wad of bills.
"Sir, sir, you will meet me there, right?" Snape wasn't paying attention, he was busy taking Draco's robe off and handing him his shoes. He opened the window and looked at Draco.
"Don't speak with anyone, head for the village of St. Ottery Catchpole, you will realize where I've sent you when you get there. Do. Not. Dis. Obey. Me." The sound of a door opening in the front drained all color from Draco's face. Snape helped to lift the boy out of the window.
When Draco touched down on the damp earth, he started to run. He barely noticed as Snape crawled out after him. He did, however, hear the sound of an unfamiliar voice as it shouted,
"You, sir! Stop!" Draco looked back to see a uniformed man going towards Snape, Snape had his hands up, Draco wanted to go back, surely magic would get these idiots away? But the look Snape had given him when he was shoved out of the window was enough to keep him going. He didn't stop when he heard the yelling, and he didn't stop as he heard a loud sound, like the sound of a small cannon going off. All he did was clutch the money and his shoes closer to him as he ran towards the train station where Snape told him to go.
Well, he thought bitterly, you wanted to leave that place…now you get to. Draco ignored the smug tone of the voice in his head and pushed on. He thought of momentarily going back home, Snape's instructions be damned, but then it dawned on him that home wasn't exactly a safe place. When he saw the lights of the train station, he felt his heart leap. He picked up his speed even faster and ran through the doors. As if the marble floors and polished counters of the place would be able to save him from anything dark magic could do. He headed straight for the bathroom, and locked himself in a stall farthest from the door. In there he let himself become shaken. His whole body was trembling, but why, those were only Muggles. He looked around, dirty words and stupid Muggle sayings surrounded him.
Realization dawned on him, Snape was no longer around to look after him. He hated the man for holding him back, but inside of him, he knew that he would never respect someone as much as he did Snape. No matter, he told himself, Snape will be here in the morning and he will sort everything out. Draco nodded and he put his shoes on over his dirty socks. He was shivering, his robe had been abandoned at that house, now his dirty white shirt, green and silver tie, and dirty black trousers was all he had on to protect himself from the cold. He shivered, it was cold in the stall, but he didn't think he would feel safe anywhere else.
Draco tried to calm his breathing down, it was coming too fast and overwhelming his lungs. He held it for a moment, willing his heart to slow down. Once it did, he could feel himself dozing off, he shook his head. He would stay awake until dawn. He sat down, shakily, on the toilet seat, there was no lid, so he was careful to not dip himself in the blue toilet water. His arms shot out and he braced his hands against the walls on either side of him. He looked at the door,
Home is where the heart is. Is what was written there, Draco sneered at the message. What if there was no heart? Then where was home? He blinked and listened, he sat like that for a while, tensing every time someone came in, and only allowing himself to relaxed when they left.
It wasn't until his stomach growled at him did he move. He stood up slowly, his body cracking and straining from the stiffness of sitting the way he had been. Draco slowly unlocked the door, poked his head out, and then left his stall. He did the same at the door, he saw the coast was clear, and stepped out. Looking around he noticed that not many people were around. There were a couple of vagrants resting in the plastic chairs, and some business looking Muggles sitting there, slumped over, snoozing away. Draco looked around, his stomach roared again. Desperately, Draco looked around for a sign of food. In a brightly lit corner, he saw Muggle telephones, and glowing, towering, machines. Drawn by the light, Draco walked over.
The machines had a glass plate that blocked Draco from reaching in and grabbing what looked like Muggle sweets. Draco scowled, leave it to Muggles to allow food to be trapped behind glass for hungry people too stare at. Draco looked at it, helplessly, what he wanted was right in front of him, but he didn't know how to get it. He wanted to just get his wand out and blast the glass away, but he didn't dare do magic away from Snape. He started to rub his stomach, it was bothering him, and he could feel his mouth watering, he had never felt this way before. Never was he denied something like this. He always had food and shelter, now…those things he took for granted…
Draco glared at the machine, he looked around it, hoping to find some instructions, and there was! To the side he read it, '1, 5, 10 's accepted.' But that only stumped him further, '1,5,10's' of what? He wondered. He stood back for a moment to look at the machine again. The brightly wrapped sweets were calling out to him, and he felt insane for thinking it, but he could actually smell the chocolate. He was ready to dismiss any logical thinking and ram his fist into the glass when a small Muggle boy came bounding over. He was going towards the machine, but stopped short and turned to Draco.
"Oh, I'm sorry sir, were you not done with the vending machine?" He asked, his small voice sounding so innocent that it almost hurt Draco's ears. He shook his head,
"No, that's fine, I'm just looking." The little boy still watched him.
"Did you…did you get something?" He asked. Draco folded his arms, uncomfortable with speaking to some Muggle child, why wasn't he sleeping?
"I…no." He said. The boy still looked at him,
"Don't you have any money?" The boy held out a five pound note, "I've got extra, I could share with you, if you don't have any." Draco felt his face burning, some Muggle boy, some small child was offering him Muggle money. Draco didn't know how to react, he was ready to snatch money from the child when a woman came walking over.
"I'm sorry sir, is he bothering you?" Draco looked at her, she had the same smile as the boy. "Roger, I told you to just get yourself a Mars Bar, now go on, you're keeping this young man from getting something for himself." The boy, Roger, shook his head.
"Mum, he doesn't have any money." Draco looked up at the woman, she frowned, she was uncomfortable, Draco spoke,
"I've got money. I was only trying to think of what I wanted." Suddenly it dawned on him, you had to put Muggle money into it to get a sweet out. He smiled at the genius of the machine. The woman smiled and turned back to her son.
"There now Roger, see, he has his own money, go on, hurry up." Draco watched what the small boy did. He put the money in, it sucked it right up, and then his little fingers pressed some buttons, the sweet inside that he wanted, it started to move, and then fell to the bottom of the machine. The boy stuck his hand into a trap door of sorts, and pulled out the candy bar. He smiled at Draco as he and his mother walked away. Draco looked back at the machine. He stepped to it and looked at the sweets again, the one he wanted said, 'E11' next to it, Draco looked at the numbers and letters beside the hole where the money went, he pressed the 'E' and then the '11', numbers showed up on the screen, Draco wrinkled his nose and then took out the money Snape had given him from his pocket. He pushed the one with the lowest amount on the corner of it into the machine. It sucked the bill up and Draco smirked as the sweet fell to the bottom of the machine. He grabbed it and then was startled as he heard something else drop. He looked at the machine, some coins had appeared in a little hole under the place where you stuck the bills. Draco stuck his fingers into the hole and took out the coins. He smiled again and walked away from the machine.
Draco sat near the boy and his mother, the boy was sharing the candy with his mother, he was curled up next to her and she was reading him a story. Draco felt a stab of jealousy as he tore into his chocolate sweet. It was quite good. He sat there and blinked sleepily, but he kept his eyes opened and looked around. The mother and her child were the only other people awake near Draco. Even the guards were dozing off in chairs near the ticket counters. Draco was upset when he had eaten all of his candy, but he didn't dare get another one because he had no clue how much a ticket would cost. He sat there, his stomach making small noises every now and then, and tried not to fall asleep. He wanted to make sure he was ready to go when Snape showed up.
But his plan didn't work, and Draco had fallen asleep, the next time he woke up, it was to the sound of a loud, ringing whistle. He started, he looked around, there were so many people around! He stood up quickly and looked for Snape's looming figure. He didn't see it, he even looked around for the mother and her child, but they too, were gone. Draco felt a fleeting rumbling in his stomach, and it had nothing to do with being hungry. He was panicking.
"Last call for Yorkshire, leaving at gate three. Last call for Yorkshire, leaving at gate three." A voice came out of nowhere above him, it echoed all around him, he looked around to see who was speaking, but saw no one. He realized that the first train was leaving, Snape told him to get on the first train! He panicked even more. He didn't know what to do.
First off, calm down, Malfoy. His voice in his head told him. We wont get anywhere if you start crying like a child. Draco took a deep breath and calmly looked around. To his left, a small queue of Muggles caught his eye. He took one more deep breath and walked to the end of it, in front of him was a small, elderly lady, he tapped her on the shoulder, she turned around,
"Yes, young man?" He smiled at her, trying his best to look sweet,
"Excuse me miss, but is this where we buy the tickets?" He asked. The old lady smiled at him and nodded.
"Yes dear, it is." She nodded and turned back around. Draco waited in line behind the lady, the train for Yorkshire had left, and he felt nervous as it was finally his turn at the booth.
"Um…could you tell me which train will get me close to the village of St. Ottery Catchpole?" He asked, a bored looking youth stood behind the counter,
"Depends on where in St. Ottery yous trying to get, doesn't it? Are you looking for the norf side, or the souf side?" He asked. Draco didn't know, he took a steadying breath.
"Either, or." He said. The youth rolled his eyes,
"Wew, ther is ony the one train that goes to St. Ottery's. You'll be wanting a ticket there then?" If there is only one train going there then why did you bloody ask which end I wanted to get to? Draco screamed inside of his head,
"Yes." He said shortly. The clerk rung him up and asked him for the fair. Draco felt nervous. He fished out what looked to be right, and handed it over to the clerk, the clerk pressed some buttons and handed over Draco some change. Draco waited for his ticket, when the clerk handed it to him he walked away. He read it, the train left in fifteen minutes and it was pulling in at gate seven. He looked around for signs that pointed out the gates, and relaxed when he saw the one he needed. He started walking towards it, clutching his ticket and still looking around desperately for that tall, dark man that was Severus Snape. And when the booming voice echoed over his head to herald the train's departure, Draco waited a few more seconds before boarding. A man in a funny looking hat asked Draco for his ticket, he handed it over, nervous that the man would run off with it leaving him ticket-less, but then relaxed when he was handed it back, torn in half, and told to take a seat wherever he wanted.
Draco stepped onto the train, and found a seat away from everyone else on the train. He waited for it to start moving before he started to relaxed. And after about ten minutes of looking out of the window, Draco rested his forehead on the cool glass and fell asleep.
For now lets just say that Draco enjoys an unconscious trip to his destination. Lets say that he slept the whole way through without a care in his mind, lets say that he slipped into an alternate universe where to him reality had become dreams, and dreams had become reality. In his dreams he believe that everything was just fine. That he hadn't spent over two fortnights with his former potions/defense against the dark arts professor, that his father wasn't imprisoned, his mother a flickering memory, and that his life was as perfect and clear as it had been but three years ago when he was still young enough to be called a boy. But you and I know better, we both know that in reality, Draco Malfoy was sleeping on a train that would eventually take him to the Weasley's home. We know what and whom is there, what side they are on, and what they will think of the likes of him and the side he teeters towards.
What we don't know is how it will all pan out, I don't even know that. I only report things as they go along, but from my professional standpoint, allow me to point this one thing out. A bad apple spoils the bunch, and if there was ever a bad apple, Draco Malfoy was one. What would happen once this snake was introduced to a house full of innocents? Would they even let him through the door? Perhaps it is silly wishful thinking to picture holding hands and dancing around in circles. As the blonde sleeps and the trio have their alone time, I am stuck here wondering, what will happen? What of Snape? Was that a gunshot that rang through the night air?
Or am I diving too far into inquisition? Should I not hang up this ill fated conversation and begin to fill you in on my report? Keep it together, I will get there. I only wish to speak my mind. For now let us pretend that Draco Malfoy is an unwelcome face among the very tightly knit circle that he was approaching. Let us pretend that the kind woman with the millions of red headed children is not acting like she is happy to see him, but actually is. And let us pretend with all of our might that the initial meeting of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy will not result in a duel, a fight, and heated words…
Until next time…keep up the pretense.