Prologue
His footsteps echoed dauntingly, bouncing off the cramped walls as his feet pounded out a rhythm on the grey cobblestones. His heart was pounding out a different rhythm, a faster, more frightening rhythm. He could hear more footsteps, loud as cannon shots, behind him. His white blonde hair lashed at his eyes that leaked tears of irritation, or fear. Sweat mingled with the tears, the salty taste of it invading his dry mouth.
He risked a glance behind him, but that only heightened his fear. He was closer than he had anticipated. Then, the world seemed to shatter. As his boot caught on an uneven cobblestone, he went crashing to the ground, skidding a few meters before coming to a stand still. In his terrified state, he stood up and flew down another small alley, but it was a dead end. He had trapped himself. He turned around, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he could make it out of this shit place and keep running, but it was to late.
He had caught up with him.
Hatred filled the cold black eyes staring at him. He as too close; he could feel his breath, and smell the odor of sweat and blood that followed him like a cloud. The dim light sent shadows crawling up the man's face.
The man reached out a whip like arm, striking him in the side of the head. Then in the stomach. Back to the head. More and more blows rained down on him. Over and over the man struck, until the boy collapsed onto his hands and knees, his whole body racking with silent sobs. The world, just a few feet away, was oblivious to the woe of the boy, tucked away in a dark alley. He was alone.
A well-aimed kick found the boy's gut, and blood mingled with vomit splattered the brick walls and the man who had kicked him. Roaring in anger the man sent one last kick at the boy's head. The boy's head made contact with the wall, and as a loud crack echoed around the alley the boy's vision went dark, and he knew no more.
Smirking, the man wiped his shoes on the boy's clothing, before turning around and walking away, leaving the boy bleeding and unconscious in the dark alley.
Hushed voices. Burning white light. A sharp smell, like disinfectant soap.
Draco Malfoy woke, dripping in sweat, to the sound of bustling feet and a door closing.
"Ah, good, you're awake. Now, this shouldn't hurt a bit. Just relax, breathe in, and slowly release the breathe."
Draco stared incomprehensibly at the nurse. Where was he? Why did his head throb so painfully? God, why did everything hurt so much? Then he remembered. Flashes of fear, pain, and stink crossed his mind. The man had finally caught him and beat him till, Draco presumed, he believed him dead. Piece of shit, that's what he was, he cursed in his mind. Not that he had expected any less.
A piercing pain in his leg brought him back to the present. "Fuck. What the hell are you doing?" Draco slapped the nurse, dislodging the ridiculously large needle she had stabbed into his leg. More pain shot through his leg as his skin tore around the needle. "What the shit do you got to go stabbing me for?" He said, his voice escalating, vibrating around his head painfully.
The nurse looked affronted, but after a few calming breathes said, "Mr. Hawkins, this is for your benefit. Unless you would prefer the pain? Let me tell you, compared to your injuries, this shot is like ice cream on a warm day."
Mr. Hawkins? What was that all about? Draco wondered, but he ignored it. Glaring at the nurse, he asked, "what injuries?"
"Broken ribs, arm and leg. Severe concussion, too. And possibly some internal problems, as well. We're still looking into that."
Draco mulled it over in his head. What had that bastard done to me, he wondered.
"Where the hell am I?" He growled, noticing her satisfaction at how Draco had gone silent.
"Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, of course. Now, how about that shot?"
Draco spat at the nurse. "I don't need your fucking drugs."
With one last glare in Draco's direction, the nurse grabbed the needle and, with a hasty 'fine' left Draco alone.
It is suffocating being alone in this hellhole hospital, Draco constantly thought. There was nothing wrong with the hospital, per say; he had now been in the children's ward for a full day and night, so walking into the corridor felt like walking into a rainbow, with big cartoon frogs and dolphins hanging from the roof, and coloring books and crayons littering low coffee tables in every room. Draco found it absolutely horrid.
Nonetheless, there was one person Draco could talk to without getting infuriated with, unlike any of the other nurses or doctors who constantly stopped by. Alexandra Endler, a skinny fifteen-year-old girl, had dark, almost black hair that constantly hung in front of her pale face, which, along with her baggy dark clothes, caused her to look rather unflattering. However, Alex was strong willed and out spoken, two of the characteristics Draco admired most in people. And beyond that, she was the only one who could make him laugh in this dump.
They had met when Draco, finally overcome with pain, called the nurse, evidently Alex's mother, back in for the shot. Looking ruffled and frustrated, the nurse had stormed in, with Alex in her wake, declaring that she, "wasn't done talking yet, mother!"
Annoyed, her mother had retorted, "We are done as long as I have work to do I. I have patients who need to be cared for, for heavens sake!"
"Why, because this boy actually give a damn about us?" She had asked sarcastically. "We can carry on with our argument and he won't give a rats ass!" At this, Draco had snickered, causing her anger to turn on him. "You think it's funny do you? Let me tell you, it's not funny when your own mother drags you around everywhere with her, because she doesn't effing trust you. I told you already, I didn't steal that damned necklace, alright!" At the last sentence she had turned back to her mother, her voice escalating to a scream.
"Well how did you get it then? You always say you didn't steal it, but you can never tell me how you actually got it." Having finished giving Draco his shot, the nurse stormed out of the room, to carry on treating other patients.
Alex had remained in Draco's room, frustrated beyond words or actions, until she had caught the sight of Draco's ill-concealed smirk.
"What's so funny, blondie?" She had spat at him.
"Oh nothing, I was just reminiscing back to how I had this same argument with my mother."
And, since then, Draco and Alex had bonded; both felt the other was the only relief in this hellish place.
Laughter resounded off of the stubbornly white walls of Draco's small hospital room. It was now early in the morning, two days after Draco had woken up, though none of the nurses would tell him when he had been admitted into the hospital. Most would change the subject, some not as inconspicuously as others. Draco got the feeling that he had been out cold for an alarmingly long stretch of time. Also, to his great annoyance, they persisted in calling him Mr. Hawkins. However, whenever Draco argued they simply blamed it on the concussion, telling him he was 'muddled', and should get some rest.
Alex was sitting on the end of his bed, as it was a Saturday and she didn't have to go to school. Alex's mother was so paranoid of her daughter misbehaving she had sent Alex to a small magical public school in the district, so that Alex was forced to live at home. Though Alex came with her mother to work everyday after school, the hours before her arrival were sullen and boring for Draco. Often during the week they would sit in silence as she did homework, occasionally asking Draco for assistance.
"You're kidding me though, your mum actually does that?" Draco laughed.
"It's not funny blondie!" Alex fumed, though she herself was also laughing. Ever since that first day Alex had called him blondie, and Draco had a suspicion it was because she didn't completely buy the story of him being Jayden Hawkins, as the nurses did.
Draco laughed harder at her indignation. "Ah, lighten up. That's not the worst of it. Want to know what my mother did?"
And so the afternoon carried on, as Draco and Alex swapped tails of the horrors their parents inflicted upon them. Finally, late in the afternoon, their laughter died down, and a comfortable silence fell between them.
"Alex?"
"Yea?"
Draco sighed. The question of when he had been admitted to the hospital burned at him, nagging him to ask Alex for the past two days, since he had retained consciousness. He didn't think he quite wanted to know the answer, but he was sure there was a good chance Alex knew it. Fed up with his own cowardly self, Draco blurted it out before he could change his own effed up mind.
"How long have I been here?"
Alex sighed, and avoided Draco's eyes.
"That long?" He said bitterly.
"Blondie, I'm not sure you want to know. It won't make you feel better."
Exasperated, Draco said gruffly, "Just tell me, dammit. I'm a big boy, I can handle myself."
"We're not sure why, but you were unconscious for two months. You were screwed up real bad when you showed up here. I asked my mum the night after we met."
Two months? What had that fucked up bastard done to me? What had changed since he was gone? Were his parents okay? Draco was drowning, trapped in his seething thoughts; he didn't hear or see Alex anymore. His mind was reeling with all his crushing thoughts.
Something in his expression must have startled Alex, Draco finally realized. Anger, he presumed, is what she had seen, for an intense hate for the men who had done this to him had begun filling him. But he was wrong; what Alex saw was a burning man, panicked, with so much emotion and stress he was lost. These raw feelings scared her, for she knew Draco always carefully guarded his emotions, hiding them behind a solid, impassive wall.
"Look - ..." But she wasn't sure what to say.
Suddenly, the hospital became too much for him; the cramped rooms, stifling any form of life; the constant flow of people he hardly knew coming to care for him; the need for permission to do any effing thing. He couldn't stand it. He needed out.
"I hate this fucking place. I hate it," he hissed quietly, deathly.
Now Alex knew what to do.
"Then leave," she said matter-of-factly.
"Are you effed in your head? You think they're going to let me just leave this shit place, no big deal?"
"Of course not. I meant sneak out. You are currently looking at the world champion of sneaking out. Before you came around I used to sneak out of this place every day while my mum worked. Never been caught once."
"And you think you can get me out of this hell?" Draco scoffed.
"Yea easy." Alex was relieved to see that disagreeing had once again but the firm wall in front of Draco's emotions.
"Let's go."
Pleased that Draco had so quickly agreed to sneak out, she bounded off the bed and grabbed her bag, before the mischief began.
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later Draco was standing outside on the pavement for the first time, if Alex was telling the truth - which he knew she was, in two months.
It had all seemed too easy under the strict guidance of his companion, thought Draco. She told him exactly when to stop, when to walk, and when to hide.
"Not bad, Alex."
"Oh, shut up and get over here," she hissed from a dark side street.
Draco sauntered over, feeling rather cocky now that he was outside of the hospital. Alex quickly handed him the change of clothes Draco had been carried into the hospital wearing (thankfully cleaned). Draco was grateful; he hadn't given much thought to the hospital gown he was wearing until now, and he sure didn't want to be seen in public wearing it.
As Draco changed Alex disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway, returning shortly also wearing a change of clothes.
His emotions now firmly tucked away again, Draco permitted nothing more than for his eyebrow to arch. Inside, however, he had frozen in shock. He also felt a familiar twitch below his belly button.
Alex was wearing a fitted, low cut dress with her hair pulled out of her face and, Draco noticed, had put in small silver hoops. She looks absolutely ravishing, he thought. Who knew? He had never noticed it before under her lank hair and baggy clothes.
"Who knew you could clean up so well, Alex," he mocked. "Where are we headed, a ball?"
"Oh haha. As a matter of fact, no, we're not. These are my every day clothes. You don't honestly think I'm mental enough to wear these old bags?" She said, indicating the pile of clothes lodged under her arm. "My lovely mum makes me wear them. Can you believe that? I change when I'm not around her though. I buy these clothes with my lunch money," she said, this time indicating the dress she was wearing. Though Alex was acting cool and careless, a light blush crawled up her cheeks as she spoke.
"Right, we have one hour before my next visit from the nurses."
"Well, where to, Madame?" Draco said, with an evil bow.
"Oh my goodness, sweetie you're awake!" A tall blonde bob burst through the door at the sight of her conscious son. Draco snickered as Narcissa Malfoy knocked into the nurse who had just changed his bandages, causing her to drop the tray she was carrying. Draco's mother seemed to take no notice.
"How are you doing? Are these incompetent nurses treating you well?" His mother's worried voice seeped into his thoughts, and he smirked. She has a mutual dislike towards the nurses of this doggish place, Draco mused.
"I'm fine, mother," he grumbled, not willing to show how much he had missed her. It had been a week since he had woken up and Draco was sitting alone in his room, as Alex was at school. The fact that his mother had taken so long to finally visit him had really driven it home that he had been unconscious for so long. Draco knew she had begun to lose hope.
After Narcissa had scrutinized every injury, and was finally satisfied with Draco's answers on how each and every one of them felt, she settled back into her plush chair and sighed.
"I'm sorry you ever got into this mess, sweetie," she said, with great sorrow in her voice.
Draco could sense an avalanche of feelings coming on, not only because she had, for the second time today, used the pet name 'sweetie'. Feeling embarrassed and annoyed, Draco quickly headed her off. It wasn't like his mother to be all mushy.
"Mum, why do they keep calling me Jayden Hawkins?"
"Oh, that, yes well you see, neither sides of this war are particularly happy with our family at the moment, as you well know. Lucius disappointed the dark lord, failing in his missions against that Potter boy. You have betrayed the dark lord, by not killing Albus Dumbledore – ," at this Draco flinched; his mother never was one for glossing over the truth, " – and the rebels are very unhappy for all the work both you and Lucius have done for the dark lord in the past. So you see, I couldn't guarantee they would take kindly to you, whichever side they supported, thus I entered you under a false name in the hopes you would be better cared for."
Though Draco didn't like to admit, his mother was clever and quick thinking. He would not have thought to enter himself under a false name. He could easily imagine his mother standing before the hospital reception, imperial and daunting, the lie slipping so easily off her tongue. It now became clear to Draco why the nurses all seemed so reassured that he was Mr. Hawkins.
Draco heard his mother sigh, and he looked up. Narcissa was looking her son in the eye, and Draco was shocked at the sight of tears in her eyes. Malfoy's never cry.
"Draco, I should have taken more care of you, never let you get caught up in all that dark stuff," she said the last few words like they didn't matter, as if 'all that dark stuff' was nothing. "Your safety is more important than the dark lord, Draco. I see that now."
He couldn't handle this, hearing what his mother was saying now. It was treacherous. She was now as good as those blood traitor rebels, fighting the dark lord. He was far gone in his reeling thoughts; he didn't hear what his mother said next.
" – never happen again." There was silence, and then suddenly she was above him. With so much regret and pain in her eyes, she leaned down and kissed his forehead softly, tenderly. Reaching into her sleeve, she pulled out her wand and laid it gently against his chest. Tears dripped down the end of her nose and landed on his face and in his hair.
"Mother, what - ?" But her grey eyes, the same ones he had inherited, were all he remembered before a flash of white light, and then it all went black.