The Escape
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, and no money is being made with this story. J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, character and all related indicia. I don't own the 2005 Corvette Convertibles. They belong to the Chevrolet car company.
Draco's eyes flickered open and he woke up and stared up at the ceiling, his head still resting on his pillow. He felt a gnawing hunger pang and rolled lazily out of bed, deciding that it was time for breakfast. He got out of his pajamas and pulled on his socks, then tied on his robes.
For finishing touches, he squeezed a hair-slicking potion in hands and applied it to his hair. He enjoyed the effect by staring into his mirror, making several different smirks, admiring each one and seeing which one suited him best. He admired his reflection. At sixteen years of age, he was no longer the small and skinny boy, but rather quite a lot taller and muscular than he had been. His platinum-blonde hair fell elegantly in his pale, pointed face. His eyes were a silvery-gray.
After finishing up, Draco left his room and stepped down the stairs into a cavernous living room that led into the kitchen. He crossed the squashy leather armchairs and couches, the luxurious rugs and the family tree, which was stuck on the wall.
He entered the kitchen and found one of his house-elves, Knobbles, quietly cooking. She scuttled around, preparing the meal that was soon to be served. She was stirring a large pot that was spitting out bits of boiling water, and was poking at bacon that was sizzling in the pan.
"Oy!" he called after sitting down and leisurely putting his feet up. He loved teasing the elf, it gave him a sense of power. She could not object to any command that she was given, and Draco liked to see that she was working for him. "Any day now!"
As the poor house-elf raced over, she dropped the large pot that she was carrying and its contents cascaded over the rim. A great amount of white mixture, supposedly porridge, spilled onto the floor and oozed across the hardwood. Knobbles yelped at what she had just done. She knew that the consequences of her mistake would be unbearable, because her masters and mistress did not tolerate such behavior.
"You're useless!" Draco told Knobbles loudly in disbelief. "Is there anything you can't get wrong?"
"Knobbles apologizes, young master!" squeaked house-elf said in a small and timid voice. "Please forgive Knobbles, young Sir."
"No," Draco answered, as he walked over to Knobbles. "Father would like to hear about this; a defective house-elf in his own home."
"No, Sir, no! Master must not find out about this!" She cried, on the verge of tears. "He will give clothes, Sir, clothes!"
Draco now saw tears rolling down her cheeks, falling from her large, blue eyes. He felt almost sympathetic for the creature, and decided to help her out just one more time.
He let out a long sigh. "Fine," Draco said. "But this is your last chance. I swore that I wouldn't help out after you set the couch on fire. If Father ever heard of this-"
"Heard of what, Draco?" It was his father, who had come into the kitchen and was striding over to the scene. He looked disgusted when he saw the mess on the floor.
Draco did not want to tell him what happened, because he had already promised Knobbles that he wouldn't. But the scene was obvious, and his father would know if he was being lied to.
"Knobbles spilt breakfast on the floor," he said quickly, as if the speed of him talking would affect his father's reaction.
"Did she?" Lucius Malfoy said with a curled lip and a smirk.
Knobbles looked up at her master with a terrified look, for she knew that she was about to be given clothes. Her little hands shook with fright.
Draco saw her and knew that she just made an innocent mistake, and his father was being... well, a Malfoy. Which got him thinking... That he's one, too...He's just as rotten as the rest of them.
"She spilt it because I startled her." Draco lied to his father.
"Lies," Lucius Malfoy said calmly. "How many times must I remind you that I am a skilled legilimens?"
"Tinker!" he barked. Another one of the Malfoys' house-elves came hurrying into the room. He was slightly smaller than Knobbles, but his eyes were still just as prominent. The rag of a window drape he wore was torn and burnt in several places. "Clean up this mess and make a good breakfast. Seeing as the bacon is burning and the porridge is spilt, you don't have much to work with. You have ten minutes, or else you go," he pointed at Knobbles who was now helplessly ladling the porridge back into the pot. "With this one."
Knobbles looked up and a sock hooked on her long nose. A look of horror spread across her face as she realized that she was set free.
"Oh, please Sir, no!" Knobbles cried tearfully. As she embraced her master's shins, begging for forgiveness. "Knobbles will do anything, Sir!"
"Get out of my house." Lucius Malfoy sneered, kicking the house-elf away.
She landed on the floor with a squeak. She turned around and walked through the hallway, the sock she was given clutched in her hand. Knobbles opened the front door and left the mansion with her head down.
"What did you do that for?" Draco asked in disbelief. "She only spilt some porridge!"
"Draco, you can't go treating house-elves like they are human."
"And why not?" demanded Draco, raising his voice. He had had a sudden interest in standing up for the house-elf, even though he hadn't much ever done it before.
"Are you trying to defend Knobbles?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am."
There was a short silence between the two.
"Fending for house-elves..." Lucius Malfoy looked quite disappointed."Where did I go wrong with you? You are most unlike a pure-blood!" He didn't look at his son, but rather gazed over into the living room.
"And what the hell's that supposed to mean?" barked Draco.
"I thought that would have been simple," Lucius said hotly, quite a lot calmer than his son. "Draco your grades are horribly low, most of your exams results were Ds. And to my great disappointment, beaten horribly in every subject by that mudblood."
"That's not my fault," Draco said quietly. "She's the teachers' favorite. And know what? She's not even that horrible! It was just you that's been feeding me all that bullshit about mudbloods being horrible!"
"Silence!" Lucius was clearly now losing his calm. "Mudbloods are horrible, and I am most disappointed that you've been beaten by her. I doubt that you'll be a suitable Death Eater after you finish Hogwarts."
"And what makes you think that I want to be a Death Eater?" enquired Draco, white hot anger burning his insides.
"I-WHAT?" Lucius' mouth dropped in disbelief and anger.
"I don't want to be a Death Eater, and never did!" bellowed Draco with a cry that shook the kitchen. When his father never answered, he continued. "I want to be a healer, and help people, unlike you."
"Draco, how could you help everyone with the same respect? Mudbloods, pure-bloods and half-breeds; all treated as if they were the same!" Draco's father snarled.
"That's because they all are the same!" Roared Draco. "It's just you and your pure-blood craze! Thinking you're higher than everyone else just because you have all wizard family? Well I'll tell you something Dad. Hanging around with You-Know-Who, causing misery and killing people; that's not popular among the wizarding world. Being a Death Eater is downright low! How could you think I'd want to be like you?" With his last convincing statement, Draco turned on his heel and left the room.
"Don't walk away from me, boy! Come back here!" Lucius bellowed.
"No, I don't think I will!" Draco called out."I'm leaving Dad!"
"What do you mean?" ordered Lucius Malfoy. "Come back here, where are you going?"
"Up to get my trunk; I can't leave without it, you know." Draco called out, putting a foot on the bottom step of the staircase.
He did intend to leave, and not come back. He had had enough of his father's pure-blood mania. He stormed up the remaining stairs, hearing his father's commands as he climbed each step. He reached his bedroom and slammed into the door that swung open to reveal his chamber.
He crossed the room and sat down on his bed, burying his face in his hands. He would miss this bed dearly; it was where he had made out with all those girls he used to know, he'd miss that. They thought he was hot then, wonder what they'd think after they knew he didn't have any wealthy father to pay for everything.
But he wasn't about to turn back now, he was going to leave; his mind was made up. His plan was to steal one of the cars (the '05 corvette convertible for style, of course), camp out at the leaky cauldron for the remainder of the holidays, and get a job that would pay for his expenses before returning to Hogwarts for his sixth year.
When he gave his plan a second thought, it sounded crazy, but it was the only plan he had, so he decided from there on, that he would follow through with it. Running away would have seemed insane to someone else, but they didn't know how hard it was to live with a father like his. Everyday, turning around to hear about how low your grades were, how despicable you were, an insult to pure-bloods...
He caught sight of a picture on his desk that showed him and his father. Draco had his arm over his father's shoulder in the picture, laughing and smiling because he had just come home from school. Those times seemed so far away now, even though it had been five weeks ago. He couldn't believe that he used to love his father after all the hard times he'd put him through. He wondered how it's possible that he is loved by anyone.
Draco picked up the picture and examined it, the smiles on their faces faded when they saw him. He mustered up all of his strength and flung it at the wall. He watched the glass shatter as some of his anger subsided. He walked over and saw their faces bleed from the broken glass.
Draco packed his things quickly, and dared to take his Nimbus Two Thousand and Two, the one his father had bought him, and the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. He scooped out his savings from the bottom of his drawer, which was a little over a hundred galleons.
When he was finished, he dragged his trunk out of his room and down the stairs, making a heavy 'thump' as it hit each stair. He saw the unpleasant sight of his father, waiting for him at the bottom.
"Where are you going, Draco?" He demanded, as if he already had no idea.
"I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back. I've had enough of you." Draco said savagely to his father. He had lost all respect for him fifteen minutes ago.
"You are not to speak to me with that tone of voice!" Draco's father yelled angrily.
"I won't be you son for long." Draco said darkly as he continued to drag his trunk across the hall to the front door. "Not after you wipe me off your fucking family tree."
"Get out! Now! And don't you darken my doorstep again!" roared Draco's father.
"I'm going, and don't worry about me crawling back to you, 'cause I won't!" yelled Draco. He opened the door to the front porch and slammed it in his father's face. He took the keys for the car and left through the front door. Draco dragged his trunk down the few steps, crossed the lawn and was putting it in the back seat when his father came charging after him.
"Where are the car keys?" demanded Lucius, as he raced to the car. He was too slow for Draco, who hopped over the door and onto a leather seat.
"Did you think that I'd take The Knight Bus?" He laughed as his father sped up to catch him before he drove away. Draco turned the key and the engine revved as he put his foot to the floor and tore off up the street. He stopped and looked back at his father, who was still running after him. Draco twisted the steering wheel and the car turned right.
"I can't believe it," Draco exclaimed to himself as he put the car in first gear, then second, growing faster and faster as he sped down the parkway. He couldn't believe that he would never have to face his father again.
He found that driving was very relaxing, especially fast driving. He was now doing over one hundred and forty kilometers an hour, in a sixty zone. He wouldn't get caught by the muggle police though, the car was invisible them. The car had many charms to protect it from muggles. His father had done them because of the new Ministry laws.Therefore, he decided to go as fast as he could, swerving in and out of the other cars, making mailboxes and lampposts jump out of the way. He felt the wind rushing through his hair, and whipping in his ears, as he felt the freedom.