Author's note: I had the idea for this story for a while now, and I literally just finished this chapter but I wanted to publish it to see if anyone liked it so far! It's my first shot at writing with third person omnicient so I hope everything is clear and understood. If it isn't just shoot me any thoughts/concerns/criticisms in a review or a message and I'll gladly fix it!
Keep in mind also as this story hasn't been written AT ALL so far, that I might not update as quickly as you might wish. I have college exams and school to focus on too, but I will try and find the time to write as much as I can.
DISCLAIMER: The characters used in this story as well as the settings that take place in the wizarding world all belong to the lovely JK Rowling. I do not intend to steal or profit from her characters and places. The plot however is the only thing that's mine. This disclaimer applies to all installments of Exile. I do not profit from this story in any way.
Exile Chapter One
It was barely a year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Barely a year after that fateful day, where Harry Potter triumphed over Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard of his time. It was a time of rejoicing, and triumph, but also a time of mourning, for those who had given their lives would never see the beginning of a Voldemort-free world. It was also a time of escaping. Many who were still loyal to their Dark Lord quickly turned and fled, fearful for their lives, and sorrowful for the loss of their master. Then there were those who were in the middle: families like the Malfoy family, were torn between right and wrong, dark and light. They were not joyful, or sorrowful. They only felt fear, and uncertainty. What was to become of them? What was to become of those few whose mind and heart were torn between good and evil?
Immediately following the war, the wizarding world quickly established a new and uncorrupted Ministry for Magic, with Kingsley Shacklebolt as their Minister. Under his authority the ministry captured the escaping Death Eaters, including those like the Malfoys, who were on the fence, and brought them into the ministry for a trial. The trials were relatively quick. Most Death Eaters, in their cowardice, claimed to be under the Imperius Curse, and claimed their allegiance to the Minister and Harry Potter. The Ministry of Magic had a mass brewing of Veritaserum in order to seek out the truth, and those Death Eaters were put to jail. Very few Death Eaters stayed loyal to Lord Voldemort after his death.
In the case of the Malfoy family and those like them, the trials were lengthier. No one argued the fate of Lucius Malfoy. Although toward the end of the war he wished for the defeat of Voldemort, he was clearly in alliance with him, and had done nothing to show his desire to switch sides. Lucius Malfoy was immediately sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. However, the question lied on Draco and Narcissa Malfoy: Guilty, or Innocent? There had been a huge public scandal over the public's desired outcome for the trial. Newspapers everywhere were including the Malfoys on their front covers with headlines such as The Malfoy Trials: Secret Potter Lovers, or Liars? and Malfoy Trials: Innocence Is Not Something They Can Buy.
The Malfoy family did try and buy their innocence by bribing the wizengamot, but for the first time, no one would listen. The Malfoys had been losing their influence and power since Lucius was caught in the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries, but this was an all-time low for them. The only factors that could save them were the fact that Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort about Harry's death, thus allowing Harry to kill Voldemort, and the fact that Draco Malfoy had been reluctant to kill Dumbledore. However, many were still not convinced. The scandal went on for months, and finally a sentence was reached. Narcissa and Draco Malfoy would not go to Azkaban, but they would be on probation for five years. During that time they were ordered to wear a thick silver bracelet, which restricted their use of magic to any magic that did not cause anyone harm and was used for practical purposes. The bracelet also alerted the ministry about the wearer's constant whereabouts. They were not allowed to leave the country, or visit the prisons in case of conspiracy unless under constant ministry surveillance.
Heads bowed in defeat, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy extended their right arms and felt the cold hard metal against their wrists. At that moment, they were forever stripped of everything. Wearing the bracelet was a huge dishonor. They felt betrayed by their own kind, a kind of wizards and witches that shamed the pure blooded and accepted the mud blooded. To the public, the silver bracelets were a symbol of the war, and the wearer's alliance to Voldemort.
Narcissa and Draco were allowed to keep their manor, however most of their possessions were sold off to pay for fines, and to keep food on the table. Both were allowed to work, however no witch or wizard wanted to employ them due to their reputation. Employers did not want their business to earn a bad reputation by employing former Death Eaters, whether innocent or guilty. Most businesses even forbid anyone wearing that despicable silver bracelet to even enter their store, or buy anything. The wizarding world had completely turned their back on the pure-blood supremacists.
Draco Malfoy walked out of his cold, ancestral manor that morning with complete dread in his heart. Dread of being in public, dread of being recognized, dread of being antagonized and ridiculed. But there was nothing to eat. There hadn't been anything to eat for three days. They had put off buying food for three days, because of the dreadful place that was the outside world. Draco Malfoy was surprised he and his mother even lasted that long without a meal. It was the first time a Malfoy had been forced into starvation.
Draco put his hood up, pulling it as far as he could over his face and obscuring as much of his blond hair as possible. He longed for the times where he could walk down to the Leaky Cauldron with his father by his side, his head high and proud, and watch the crowd part in his wake and cower in fear of his name. Now he walked with his head bent low, trying to hide his face as much as he could for fear of public humiliation. Everyone snickered and pointed, and little children would hide behind their parents because those parents had taught their children that the silver bracelet was a sign of a bad person.
How the times had changed.
Draco Malfoy pulled his robe's sleeve over his bracelet, but the bracelet was so big and bulky that it was no use. Everyone knew he wore a bracelet even if it wasn't shown, thanks to the newspapers. He hadn't even the luxury of privacy, as the other families sentenced to wear the bracelet. No one paid attention to them, they were just shunned. But the Malfoys were ridiculed. At least it isn't mother in my place, Draco thought to himself as he entered the Leaky Cauldron, and several wizards scowled at him. Draco didn't want to think of what would happen if his mother was outside, alone and unable to defend herself, because the bracelet restricted them from magic that could be used in their defense. He ignored the wizards because that's what he did every time he went out, and silently made his way to the back of the pub toward Diagon Alley.
Draco tapped the proper bricks with his wand—his now useless wand—and the entrance to Diagon Alley appeared. It was very early Sunday morning. Draco supposed it wouldn't be too crowded. The majority of the wizarding population shouldn't be up for another hour. The fewer people the better.
Draco looked to his right and saw the entrance to Knockturn Alley, another shopping location that branched off of Diagon Alley. It had been completely boarded up and the public was forbidden to enter. Anything close to dark magic was feared, and anyone so much as suspected for being involved with the dark arts was sent in for questioning. The ministry was quite paranoid. Draco pulled his hood father down his face, head bowed, and continued walking, angrily wishing things returned to how they used to be.
He went in the first store he saw, but as soon as he so much as set foot inside the cashier gasped and yelled at him.
"Ge' outta ma store ye filthy Death Eater! Scum! Don' eva set foot here again ye hear?!"
Draco didn't argue. He simply turned around and exited the store. He knew better by now. The first time he had been treated like this it had been a major shock. He was used to being bowed to upon entering a store, and treated like royalty, given the best bargains and best products the store had to offer. When one went from that treatment to being treated worse than a dog it didn't sit well for him. But he learned well the first time, after he had stood his ground and argued. The store manager cursed him so badly he had been in bed for days, barely able to make it home. The laugher of the crowd as he struggled to hide the effects of the curse haunted him days after the incident. Since then he simply turned around and tried elsewhere.
And try elsewhere he did. Draco set foot inside with hesitation, hiding his bracelet and face as best as he could. It was a bakery, filled with the most delicious and enticing smells, which filled his nostrils and sent his hungry and starving stomach on frenzy. Draco almost moaned with yearning. Clutching his stomach he grabbed the first thing his hand touched—cinnamon rolls—and grabbed four. He had two galleons in his pocket. Just enough. Draco's heart sped up and his mouth watered with anticipation. He was having better luck today, and for that he was extremely gratified. He quietly got in the line and thanked Merlin it was short—only two people ahead of him. He sneaked a peek at his hands, making sure the money was in his left hand so that he wouldn't risk exposing the bracelet to the cashier. He hoped the cashier wouldn't recognize his face, or bother to find out who he was, as his face was hidden. His stomach growled in anticipation.
"Next in line, please?" The cashier announced. One more person ahead of him. Draco licked his lips. He imagined how pleased his mother would be to eat a cinnamon roll. "Have a good day!" The cashier told the wizard in front of him. "Next?"
Draco stepped up and carefully placed the four cinnamon buns on the counter, pretending not to look up because he was busy looking at something on the floor. His heart pounded in his chest. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, he thought madly, shifting his weight impatiently. But he sensed the cashier's hesitation. The cashier, having suspected him for what he was as soon as he had gotten in line, eyed the hooded man with great mistrust. She despised people like him.
"Show me your right hand." The cashier commanded. Having foreseen this, Draco pulled back his right sleeve; at the same time pulling up the bracelet as far as it would go. It wasn't much, Draco could only show barely half of his wrist but he prayed it was enough. Little did Draco know, the cashier had seen this trick before. The cashier had no patience for these people. She wanted him to leave. "Get out of the store." She said harshly.
"I showed you my wrist I'm not wearing it." Draco retorted with clenched teeth. He wanted nothing more than to hurl insults at her. The thought crossed his mind to simply take the baked goods and run, but he knew well that the ministry would know of his whereabouts and that would be a strike on his five year probation.
The cashier angrily eyed the pureblood scum. He was holding up her line, and she would not have that.
"Get out of this store, or I will call the ministry." She said, uttering each word slowly and with force.
"I have money to pay for it. Look, I can pay for it." Draco said, attempting to reason with the woman.
Behind him, there was a long line of people beginning to form, looking at the hooded wizard with impatience, checking their watches. Only one person in line did not wear an expression of impatience: Hermione Granger. She looked rather curiously to the man who was trying to pay for something she couldn't see. As she overheard him arguing with the female cashier, she realized the identity of the hooded wizard by his voice. A voice that had once sparked anger within her, and always had a snooty drawl to it, but not anymore.
"Hey. Idiot. You're holding the line up, get out of the store." The wizard in front of Hermione yelled at the hooded wizard, Draco. Draco simply scrunched his eyes in frustration. He blocked out everyone who was behind him and focused solely on the cashier. He was desperately hungry, he would do anything to walk out with those cinnamon rolls.
"Please, ma'am. I'm starving. I can pay for it, just please." Draco said softly, not wishing anyone to overhear. He never pleaded. Not to anyone ever. He felt what little pride and dignity he had left diminish with each word, but he was oh so hungry.
The cashier, frustrated and done with this Voldemort sympathizer, pulled out her wand. Draco immediately grabbed his two galleons, and walked out as quickly as possible. He didn't want to be made fun of. He didn't want to be cursed. No matter how much his world had taken away from him, he was still a Malfoy. He had to do everything he could to preserve what he could of his name.
Unseen by Draco Malfoy, Hermione watched him walk out of the store empty handed, clutching his stomach. She felt slightly sorry for the guy. She estimated he was eighteen or nineteen by now, and already struggling for food and a place in society. A part of her told her that it served him right for everything he had gotten into and everything he did. But did he have a choice? Everyone had a choice, but Hermione felt that perhaps Malfoy had put his priorities in the wrong place and landed him where he was. But no one should ever go hungry, no matter who they are. Hermione thought to herself with certainty. She moved up in line, clutching her pumpkin juice and bagel. People like Malfoy were sentenced to a sad life of ridicule and lack of food, as they could not get a job. They were allowed to work, but no one ever wished to employ them. Hermione entertained the idea of perhaps creating jobs especially for those wearing the bracelet. Perhaps then they could manage. Even then buying products was sometimes denied to them, like Malfoy just was.
"Next?" the cashier said, and Hermione stepped up to the counter, placing her pumpkin juice and bagel on the counter. Four cinnamon rolls were there, and Hermione guessed it was what Malfoy had tried to buy.
"Will that be all?" The cashier asked her.
"Let me have those rolls, please." Hermione replied, searching for extra money in her wallet.
Outside, Draco once again pulled his hood over his hair and eyes, as the hood always fell back a couple inches. He was hungrier than ever as he wondered empty handed down Diagon Alley. He had been so close. He remembered the enticing smells, the feel of the warm dough in his hand… the prospect of greeting his mother with fresh food. His mouth watered once more and Draco swallowed hard. In a span of twenty minutes, he had tried four more stores without any luck. No one wanted to sell to someone like him. He refused to sink so low as to search the trash cans. A Malfoy never dug through trash. That was something he was adamant about. But as his stomach rumbled he considered breaking that rule.
Thankfully, at that moment Hermione Granger spotted Draco Malfoy, unknown to Draco Malfoy himself, and began walking toward him with his cinnamon rolls. She was slightly nervous. She didn't like the thought of seeing him, not because she despised him or because she was shy. The only reason was because she was too modest. She didn't want to be in front of Malfoy, flaunting her well off life and status while his had dropped so dramatically. She was being selfless, actually.
Draco walked, his eyes roaming around, staring at the food that lay within the stores and avoiding the eyes and glares of the public. He felt someone tap him on the shoulder and he froze, afraid that someone had come to taunt him, or pick a fight with him. It wouldn't be the first time. However to his surprise and sheer embarrassment, he found himself face to face with Harry Potter's best friend, Hermione Granger. Dread replaced hunger at that point. He couldn't even look her in the eye.
"Um. I saw you try to buy this and well, here you go." The Granger girl told him awkwardly. He clenched his jaw. His bracelet became heavy on his wrist. How pitiful he must look to her. How proud she must feel right now. Unbeknown to Draco, pride was not one of the things Hermione Granger felt. She extended her hands, holding two rolls in each. Draco wanted nothing more than to take them, but his pride and ego held him.
Draco Malfoy was quite immature. He still retained many mannerisms that he had during his years in Hogwarts, which wasn't surprising considering his seventh year had only finished less than a year ago. When it came to Granger, Potter, Weasley, and a couple others, he unconsciously refused to appear weak and needy in front of them. He still wished to retain his strut and regality he had when it came to them.
"I don't need your pity, Granger." Draco spat at the witch, glad to see her taken aback. "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself."
The fact that Draco Malfoy spat at Hermione didn't offend her at all. In fact, she pitied him. She knew perfectly well that his words were the only things he could defend himself with. It was the only thing he had. Even so, it did not excuse the fact that Hermione didn't want to deal with it.
"You can drop the façade, Malfoy; I know you weren't able to buy these. Just take them and forget this happened." Hermione said, attempting to reason with him. She could only imagine what his life was like. Perhaps his winters were cold, and every day was a dreadful one. He couldn't even look her in the eye, that's how bad it was for him. She didn't understand his problem. She had bought food for the other witches and wizards wearing the silver bracelet, and they had practically snatched her hands along with the food. Why was he, despite his hunger, so reluctant?
"Who do you think I am, Granger? I don't go about pretending for anything. Quit trying to act high and mighty by doing your good deeds because I am not in need of it." Draco retorted, adding in his head, stop performing good deeds in order to demean my existence. But no matter what his words expressed, his eyes continually eyed the cinnamon rolls, and a complete yearning to grab them and sink his teeth into them fought back. He was waging a war within himself: To accept, or not to accept? Accepting would come with a price, and that price was his dignity, or at least the dignity he had pretended to have. Not accepting meant hunger, and another day of starving. Not that four cinnamon rolls would satisfy both he and his mother, but it was something.
"Fine." Hermione said, reaching the conclusion of what she was going to do. She knew Malfoy wouldn't take the rolls from her, no matter how much he wanted them. So she tried a different option. "I'll just leave these here." She sent the cinnamon rolls on a nearby bench. "Take them if you want, I don't care." And with that, Hermione Granger walked away, knowing full well that Malfoy would wait until she was out of sight, and grab the baked goods.
Draco did in fact wait until he saw her no more. He felt she had just given up, and placed the food somewhere in frustration and anger because she didn't succeed in embarrassing him. Draco grabbed the buns, a fire igniting in his stomach, and walked away with them under his robe. He felt he had won in his small battle of dignity against her, all because he never accepted the food. He had instead made her walk away in frustration.
How pleased his mother would be once he got home.
A/N: I hope you all like it so far! I'm currently working on chapter two so expect that soon. If you'd like to leave a review, please please do so! It means a bunch and makes me wanna write more! Suggestions, comments, questions, and criticisms are always welcome! Thanks for reading!