I do not own Harry Potter.
Die Searching
True goodness springs from a man's own heart. All men are born good.
- Confucius Analects
They were counting. Tick, tick, tick. The minutes they were counting and they were looking, searching, finding. He was running fast and fearing for his life, it was the only thing left for him to do. The Order could not and would not be able to help him, only he can save himself. Draco Malfoy was a marked man and as they say, no good deed goes unpunished. He was going to suffer the wrath of fate, a hundred other Death Eaters and one vengeful Dark Lord. It was okay, it was fine. It was for the safety and future of humanity. He was not a lost cause. It was alright.
He raced down the unfamiliar forest grounds and looked over his shoulder from time to time. He wondered if they were able to defeat him or that they had not yet done so. Maybe it was a failure. He grimly smiled and hoped not, he wished for the best. As much as he hated them, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger were far better than him in more ways than just as a student at Hogwarts. As friends, as human beings. It might be the reason why he hated them, they were better than him. He hated it.
He came to a huge, long river and he stopped, tired, hungry. Several reasons raced through his head when he thought about his change of heart, his change of side. One was that he could not bear the act of killing someone, he was not that evil. He had chickened out when he was tasked to kill the Headmaster, hadn't he? Another was that he couldn't bear what it was doing to his family. His father was weakened, tortured and his mother was always crying, broken. He had thought of what would happen if Voldemort had succeeded and ruled the Wizarding world. What the wizard was doing to him and his parents were enough to go with, it was a horrid picture. He thought of the bigotry then of a massacre and he shuddered.
He stooped to cup fresh water in his hands and he drank, relishing the soothing coolness, as if reaching deep into the depths of his soul. It was brilliant, it was comforting. He felt as good as he did when he concocted and conspired with his father and Severus Snape a plan to kill Voldemort and when he did all he could to convince those fighting for the good that he was a changed man. It took long and hard but in the end, they believed him and they let him join their cause.
It was not that hard for the news of their family's treason to reach the ears of the Death Eaters and Voldemort as it was not that hard for them to act quickly. They nearly killed Lucius Malfoy but he had hid his mother in the safety of the Order and then he ran. It was part of the plan. The more Death Eaters after him, the less for the Order to handle.
And so the counting started and he knew that the sands of his life clock was running out but until they caught him, he was going to run and pray to a god that he didn't believe in that they never find him.
He's not the finest character that ever lived. But he's a human being, and a terrible thing is happening to him. So attention must be paid. He's not to be allowed to fall into his grave like an old dog.
- Arthur Miller Death of a Salesman