THE WAY OF THE WAR

By Kay Elle Hunter

C1: Sanctus Veliusiccum

He had ran, he had escaped and he had then vanished.

Severus Snape had watched him go, knowing it was for the best but in no mind believing he should follow. A prize lay ahead for the loyal Death Eater where as for Draco… Draco would've faced the Dark Lord again at a price - a price that would almost certainly put an end to the young wizard's life.

So Draco had ran, he had escaped and with a swish of his Hogwarts school robes he had vanished to a place he had never seen nor heard of.

Looking around nervously, almost shaking, Draco discovered himself beside a shallow creek, trees and darkness at every shift of the eyes. Pulling a damp scrap of parchment from his robes he read the messy scrawl with a frown. "Sanctus Veliusiccum," Draco whispered, trying to understand.

Sanctus Veliusiccum?

And then it struck him and this time he spoke loudly and clearly: "Sanctus Veliusiccum."

Trees hoped aside, the creek narrowed slightly, but Draco was paying more attention to the building that was suddenly appearing before him. Wooden walls, glass windows and an arched wooden door all appeared out of nowhere and filled the clearing the trees had made.

The cabin had two floors although it was still rather small. The windows were grimy and looked as though they had rarely been opened. In fact, the entire cabin appeared to have been abandoned for over a decade. As Draco approached the building hesitantly, he was too shaken to take a great deal of notice of the rotting timber or the cracked window to the right of the door. The doorknob felt loose beneath his hand but with a gentle turn and a creak the door opened to reveal a small, dusty and discarded room.

Right in front of him stood a tiny round table and two battered old wooden seats. The floor was presumably wooden and uncarpeted but the thick layer of crisp dust made it difficult to be certain. To Draco's left was a lumpy grey armchair whose twin sat some 10 feet away across the room beside an aged coffee table that stood crookedly in the far most corner.

Draco breathed in only to have dust fill his nostrils along with the smell of mould and starch. The place was filthy, he thought, as his eyes landed on the staircase that would lead him upstairs.

He made his way towards it, weakly slamming the front door and being careful not the break the fragile hinges. He made a small note of the little kitchen that was in the far right corner, beside and underneath the wearing staircase that he stepped onto.

The staircase was quite sturdy, his footsteps muffled by the amount of dust that had made home on them. Reaching a tiny landing, he turning left and took three more careful steps upwards before he reached what was obviously the cabin's only bedroom.

A small bed stood closest to him underneath another grimy window, old moth eaten sheets were untidily dressing it, showing the lumpy mattress and a visibly broken spring. The bed stand was dusty as everything else was; the drawers were sitting open and empty, as were those on the chest of drawers that stood across the room and the doors on of a uncared for antique wardrobe.

Turning around, Draco noticed a room that ran immediately above the kitchen below. Moving forwards and opening the tired door, he found himself staring directly into an obscure reflection of himself. He'd found the bathroom and without a thought invading his numb brain, he walked swiftly forwards, struggled for a moment in turning on the stiff taps and then let his wet hands clear away the grime from the mirror.

He braced his hands on the basin and swallowed as he took in his deathly pale completion, the terror in his grey eyes and the reality of where he was and why: he wasn't a murderer.