Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. The song this fic is based on is Relient K's Be My Escape.
A/N: I know. I said I'd put all my focus into The Curse, but I heard this song and it was like a light bulb went off in my head. Originally, it was only supposed to be a one-shot, but a plot seemed to form somewhere so I guess my focus'll be split between The Curse and this one. Gosh. Oh yeah- and school…:sighs: enjoy, folks! And please, REVIEW! I find I'm addicted to reading them...
Warning: HBP spoilers.
Be My Escape
Chapter One
Draco Malfoy sat up in his bed, counting the notches he had carved into the wood. Five…ten…fifteen…twenty…twenty-five…thirty. Thirty days since he first arrived. That meant it was about thirty days since he ran away from home. Thirty-nine days since he last saw Hogwarts. Thirty-nine days since…
The 17-year old stood up, pushing the thin sheets off his body as he made his way to the bathroom down the hall. Flipping the light switch, he couldn't help but wince at the brightness of the light that filled the dark room. Upon looking in the mirror, he almost wished he hadn't turned the light on. Pale blond hair hung limply from his head at odd angles, a sharp contrast to the sleekness and perfection it once embodied. His skin, naturally pale, was pasty and ghost-like. Silver eyes, once proud and intense now looked back at him, sunken in and clouded with exhaustion. His strong, toned frame had not changed—though, in all honesty, he had never felt weaker. Thirty nine days…
He let out a shaky sigh, splashing cold water on his face. He would have headed for the shower, had it not been so late; there was someone here he definitely did not want to deal with right now, and he was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate the water running at this hour.
Going back to his room, he sat beside the window, looking hopelessly out at freedom, separated only by the thin glass in front of him. He scoffed. 'Freedom? What freedom? I gave away that right the night I got this!' Angrily, he glared at his left arm. Though it was hidden by robes, he knew it was there…the reason behind his family's demise…the reason the Wizarding world couldn't sleep at night…the damned Dark Mark.
'Fucker,' Draco cursed, thinking of Voldemort and his empty threats. 'Kill my family my arse. How could I have believed him? Stupid Dark Lord…full of fucking shit. Why didn't I see it before?'
By the time Draco had realized the Dark Lord's lies, it had been too late. He wanted desperately to turn to Dumbledore—the only man Draco had ever known to be honest. At a time when the world was crashing about his ears, Dumbledore had been the voice of reason—the more so when Draco stood before him, ready to kill him. But then Snape had come in and…
The young Malfoy swallowed hard, finally allowing pent up anger to flow freely throughout his body. It was like fire dancing in his veins and he relished the feel of something other than loathing and despair. It was hate. Pure, unadulterated hate. Not for himself—for the Potion's master…Dumbledore's murderer.
The day he was to return to report to the Dark Lord, Draco made the hardest decision of his life. Knowing he might very well die because of his rashness, he gathered his wand, leaving everything from his past behind, and Apparated to Number Four, Privet Drive.
He fully expected Potter to kill him on the spot, but it was with quiet fury that his enemy had asked, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Dumbledore urged me to see the error of my ways, and seeing as how I'm sick and tired of the damn Dark Lord, I figured I'd take the old man's advice" he answered, unable to help the nasty tone of his voice and the sneer that fixed itself onto his face. One epiphany was certainly not enough to erase six years of enmity. "Assuming his offer to side with the Light still stands."
"How do I know I can trust you?" Harry glared back.
"You have my word—I've renounced my evil way of life." Draco answered, his voice a lazy drawl. Potter's laugh startled Malfoy—it was a sound he didn't expect…so…empty.
"Your word? What good is the word of a Malfoy to me?" Draco realized the Boy Wonder had a point. Come to think of it, it didn't mean much to him either.
"I swear, on Dumbledore and everything he stood for, that I want nothing to do with the Dark Lord. Happy, Potter? I'll swear it in an Unbreakable if I have to…" Surprisingly, this was good enough for the Boy Who Lived.
"Does Voldemort know you've joined our side?"
"No—I was supposed to report to him today, but I came here instead." Draco answered, in slight shock over the fact that he was in Harry Potter's bedroom, after almost killing Harry Potter's beloved mentor, and he was still alive.
"Right—give me a second. We've got to get you to a safer place." With that, Harry scribbled a quick note, sending it off with Hedwig. Gathering his wand, he turned to Draco once again. "You can Apparate, right?"
"No, Potter, I walked here." Draco rolled his eyes.
"Hey—I'm trying to help you, you git."
"Old habits die hard." Draco shot back. "Where are we going?"
Minutes later, Draco found himself in the house of his Aunt Black—Sirius' house…now Harry's.
"Don't leave, whatever you do. And if I find out you're double crossing us, there'll be hell to pay." Harry threatened unnecessarily.
"Wouldn't dream of it. The bedroom's upstairs, right?" Draco asked, exhaustion settling in his bones.
"Been here before then?"
"Maybe," was Draco's nonchalant response.
"Yeah—pick one out. I'll be back in a few days. We'll settle this then," Harry stated, "You'll be alright, then?"
"Yeah." At Malfoy's answer, the Boy Wonder turned to leave. Before he could stop himself, Draco called out, "Hey, Potter!" Harry quickly turned around, waiting for Malfoy to finish. "Thanks." It was a historical moment, to say the least: Draco Malfoy actually thanking Harry Potter? Would wonders never cease?
Harry gave a single nod in return before Apparating, Draco assumed, back to Privet Drive.
Silence filled the house those next few days without Potter, and Draco thought himself being slowly driven insane. Like the Malfoy Manor, the Black House was rather large—though it was smaller than Malfoy's own—and filled with absolutely nothing to do. Draco was left only with his dark thoughts and that alone was enough to torture him. It was somewhat of a relief when he heard Potter's voice float through the walls. Somewhat.
Draco emerged from his room that day, coming face to face with not only Potter, but his sidekicks Weasel and the Mudblood, the Werewolf, Moody and two Aurors he recognized from the Battle. It was almost too easy, falling back into the old Malfoy mannerisms.
"Well, is this some sort of surprise party, then?" he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame, carefully studying the people before him.
The two Aurors, one with vibrant pink hair and the other with none at all, appeared rather young…maybe no more than 5 maybe 7 years older than he was. Both had looks of contained anger and loathing on their faces, though, together, their hatred was no match for the Weasley's.Iflooks could kill, Draco assumed he'd be turning over in his grave, the way the red-haired boy was staring at him. Lupin looked even more worn and tired than Draco felt, and that was saying something. Moody…well—who could really tell what was going on with Moody? As Draco's eyes fell upon the only other female of the group, his lip curled in a sneer. Filthy Mudblood, always following Potter…he hated her—from her still-bushy hair to those hideous shoes she wore. She stared back defiantly, curiosity hidden in her muddy eyes more than any anger was, and for that, Draco could only hate her more.
"Surprise? Yes. But if this is a party, I must say, it's not one I'll remember fondly," Lupin replied. "Come, everyone—there is much to discuss."
Discuss? What had they discussed? Their meeting had ended horribly—at least in Draco's opinion. While everyone had managed to keep all curses and hexes to themselves, they all had concluded something the Malfoy thought to be blatantly obvious beforehand: he needed protection—something he would be given as long as he remained loyal to Dumbledore's cause and supplied Potter & Co. with information when appropriate. It was about as productive as training for Quidditch without broomsticks or a Quaffle.
Something the others had agreed on, to Draco's dismay, was to leave the Mudblood with him. Idiots. Just because he was helping them, didn't mean he accepted Muggles or Mudbloods. He just wanted the Dark Lord defeated. Despite his protests, Harry refused to leave him alone again.
"Why!" Malfoy demanded, angered enough to actually show it. "I was here by myself before this damn meeting—why can't I stay now?" The slow transition to insanity due to the deafening silence he experienced before was thrown out the window in light of the new situation. He refused to live with a Mudblood.
"It was stupid of me to leave you here before—what if someone broke in? We need to play it safe." Potter calmly answered, his quiet voice serving to anger Draco all the more.
"And I suppose she's going to protect me then?" he scoffed, not bothering to look at the subject of his sentence.
"I may be smaller than you, Malfoy," he heard her speak, "but that doesn't mean I won't try. Don't think, for one second, that I'm doing this for you."
Draco kept his eyes focused on the wall behind Potter's head, breathing evenly and counting to himself. 'One…two…three...' Of course, he didn't think she was doing this for him! 'Four…five…six…seven...' Hell, he would have fought harder against having her there if she were! 'Eight…nine…ten…eleven…'
"It won't be for long, just until around mid-July." Confused slightly, Draco turned to Potter, contemplating his words. July? That seemed a lifetime away…
"Why? What's in July?"
"My birthday."
That had been, according to Draco's calculations, 21 days ago, and Harry still had yet to return, despite the fact that July was quickly coming to an end. After 30 days in his former enemy's house, there was only one thing Draco Malfoy was sure of.
'I gotta get outta here…'