I'm 'N Love…(With a Killer)!? Draco Malfoy

He was running for his life; and for the first time, he didn't know where he was headed. He was breathless, fear spread over his flawless features like jelly on toast as he raced past the little shop known as 'John Angell's Jeweller.' If he actually had the time to soak up his surroundings, he would've scrunched his nose up in disgust at the public emporium available for those bloody Muggles.

But then again, he wouldn't even dare take any forms of hesitation just knowing that a ruthless and powerful wizard desires to have his head on a silver platter. And besides, he actually hoped he would live to see that store again. The dark March night encircling him seemed cool, but not nearly enough to ease the sweating that had continually dripped down his forehead.

He could just feel that itch between his shoulder blades increasingly grow as he frantically tried to find a place where he could hide. Traffic was light, streetlights broke the darkness, and there weren't many crowds clustered in any particular places where he could easily blend in and hide his identity. Not exactly his luck.

A jolt of pain suddenly stabbed at his right forearm, instinctively sending him to reach for the invisible long wooden stick that he normally held close in his pocket. He cursed under his breath when he remembered he had lost it on the run; one of his former Death Eaters had managed to snatch it out of his grasp. He would make him pay once had had the chance. Gritting his perfectly straight teeth, he grasped his forearm with his left hand and ignored the glowing look seen visible through the thin material of his shirt. He needed something thicker—a disguise.

Draco's hard gray eyes searched around for anything possible. Forgetting about that particular need for a moment, his eyes quickly caught on a set of stairs that led down to the subway. Another seconds of thinking it through had him shaking off the idea. If they caught him going in there, he just might not come back out.

Looking for other options, he turned the corner in a hurry before glancing over his shoulder a few times, just expecting to see their faces jump out at him. He turned his head back around and his wary eyes decreased in panic.

Never before in his life had Draco ever been so thankful to see Muggles—groups of them—seen standing, walking, doing whatever it was Muggles did at night. Music of a genre he hardly recognized drifted into his ears, and for some reason the fast-paced beat of the song made him relax slightly.

His eyes skimmed over the shoulders of the Muggles he had cautiously walked behind, hiding his figure from sight and glad that his arduous breathing went unnoticed. He took this chance to catch his breath and carefully calculated his chances for survival. This helps, he thought, glancing up at the towering man in front of him. It'll be harder to kill me outright in crowds like this. Not impossible, but just harder.

Drawing in an unsteady breath, he kept his pace slow as he faded in and out of the packs of Muggles. Once he had been tangled in the crowd long enough, his upper lip quivered in revulsion. His skin began to crawl at the realization of him breathing in the same, filthy air as those vile beings and soon forgot their purpose.

"Bloody Muggles," he hissed under his breath, giving cold glares to the backs of whoever he passed by. As that happened, his eyes suddenly drew upon two figures standing across the street in front of him, causing his hair to stand on end and his hands to grow damp. Long, dark cloaks draped over their broad shoulders while the shadow cast by the hood provided means of hiding their faces. Draco quickly ducked behind the overly large lady blocking their view from him as his heart quickened its pulse. They hadn't seen him yet, but he knew it wouldn't be long.

His forearm thudded with pain as each took another step closer to him, but he kept his tongue between his teeth so not a sound could escape from his lips. His mind raced with any possible ideas that could either help him greatly in this tight situation or promptly end his life. He looked behind him and his eyes quickly scanned the buildings but somehow he managed to pull through even with the pressure and little time overweighing him.

"Hey mate," Draco spoke hastily, but quietly as he grabbed the arm of the boy right beside him. His eyes quickly skimmed over his features before he asked a question that made him cringe slightly. "How much for that jacket?" Draco could barely swallow as the humiliation seeped through his veins. All his life, everything that he asked for was brought to him without any questions asked, yet here he was, asking a complete stranger for a bloody jacket. He repeatedly had to remind himself that his life was on the line.

The boy looked at Draco like he had gone mad.

"This jacket cost me a fortune! And from the looks of it, I doubt you could ever afford one in your lifetime." His eyes quickly gazed down to the choice of wardrobe Draco had on, and all he could do in this situation was give him a deathly glare. 'Oh, if I had my wand right now…' He thought, as he tried to calm down his temper by balling his fists tightly until his knuckles became white. Clearly, making a scene wouldn't be a smart thing to do.

He gritted his teeth. "How much?" he repeated, this time in a bitter tone.

"It's leather."

"150." Draco spat, and the boys' chestnut colored eyes took interest. Draco shoved one of his hands down the robes' pocket, and took out the exact amount of money. When the boy saw Draco was actually loaded, he hurriedly began to take off his jacket and even threw in the tinted shades that were rested on top of his head.

"Thanks." he grinned, looking like a child did when he was handed a bagful of sweets and candies.

Draco didn't even bother saying another word. He slipped on the jacket—making a slight disgruntled face at the smell—and was relieved to find that the glowing light from the Dark Mark couldn't be seen anymore. Draco was able to breathe normally. For a moment.