Draco
covered his eyes to block out the blinding light of the sun streaming
in through the white curtains that waved gracefully in the ocean
breeze. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he sat up remembered
himself. They were in the Antilles, away from the wizarding world and
what was left of Hogwarts. More importantly, he remembered the Dark
Lord was dead, finally...thankfully.
Looking back, Draco
could not remember when Voldemort had not been a part of their lives.
Even when he had disappeared for years when Draco was just a young
boy, his father's desire to keep in Voldemort's favor ruled his
family's every action. The years of plotting and scheming cumulated
to Voldemort's return in Draco's fifth year at Hogwarts, then his
father's imprisonment in his sixth year, followed by Voldemort's take
over of Malfoy Manor this past summer. Lucius's years of hard work
had paid off grandly, to the dismay of them all.
Bile rose in his throat when he recalled the constant overwhelming dread. Not being able to eat, or sleep, constantly living on edge not knowing whether his next action or word from his mouth would earn him the killing curse. He had been positive they would all be dead by the time Voldemort was through. It was just a matter of time. But then Potter had fulfilled the rumored prophecy brilliantly by ridding the world, and more importantly, Draco himself, of that snake faced monster.
Potter.
He snarled at the thought of him. He was obligated to the man now.
Potter had saved his life, saved him from a dreadful burning death in
the Room of Requirement. Better yet, he had saved Draco's entire
family from a lifetime of servitude to the Dark Lord by artfully and
intelligently doing the lunatic in. Turns out it was a battle of
wits
and guts really. Or maybe, just maybe Potter really was the strongest
wizard of their time, but Draco was not ready to concede that to that
argument just yet. Still, there was old magic that bound them now.
There was no way around it.
The last time he saw
Harry, he was lying across Ron's lifeless body. Potter's arms were
wrapped around him, inconsolable over the loss of his friend. His
recent triumph forgotten. Draco was finding his way out of the
castle with his parents when they came across the two in the deserted
hallway. Somehow the sight unnerved Draco. He felt something toward
Potter he had never felt. Pity maybe. Compassion, possibly. He never
lost anyone close to him, and could not name one person who he could
call a true friend as he knew Ron had been to Harry.
The closest person to him was his mother. He could not imagine her
loss though he had anticipated it several times over the past few
months. Strangely, he felt compelled to approach Potter, offer his
apologies and just sit with him while he grieved. The impulse was
foreign to him, yet it seemed to be the right thing to do. He
was only struck with such an impulse once before, back at the manor
while his dreadful Aunt Bellatrix
was torturing Hermione. The
sight was sickening, and amazingly heart breaking. He was desperate
to help her, even after the years of taunting he had subjected her
to. Only he knew his taunts were in an effort to cover his real
feelings he had toward her, the attraction he had felt the moment he
saw her back in their first year.
He recalled when he
found out she was muggle born. He actually felt a pain in his heart
knowing she was forbidden completely to him. Watching her being
tortured years later, he knew he had to do right by her somehow and
found his chance when he was asked to identify her.
He
wished he could tell them exactly who she was, well to him at least
but his feelings didn't matter and would have resulted in both their
deaths, so he lied instead. No, he didn't know her. It was the right
thing to do then, as joining Potter would have been the right thing
to do last night too. Some how he knew Potter was the kind of person
that
would put their past behind him and accept Draco's peace
offering. Instead, his father had grabbed him by the cloak and
dragged him away, leaving Harry's call for Hermione echoing behind
them.
Leaving bed, he walked across the cool tiles,
through the curtains that served as the rooms only walls, to the
balcony off his room. He loved this place. They were high up on the
edge of the cliff face over looking the rich turquoise water that
stretched to eternity before him. They hadn't visited this particular
villa in years. The Dark Lords hold over his family prevented them
from leaving Malfoy manor, let along travel for pleasure.
It was a relief to be back. No one in the wizarding world knew of
this particular Malfoy residence. It was, of course in the muggle
world, safe away from all speculation and condemnation. It was his
father's retreat. A place he could hide away from the whispers and
stares that had plagued their family for years, since the Voldemort's
first attempt to kill Harry. Of course Draco was just a baby then but
they had traveled to this spot so many times through the years, it
felt more like home than even the manor did at this point.
The fact that they where there held so many deeper meanings for them all. They were free. His mother, father, himself. Maybe for once, they could have normal lives and function as a real family. Maybe his father would put aside his prejudices and ambitions, and would decide to live a quiet life with no twisted causes and strives for power. Maybe his father would be loving and kind for once in his life.
This place also meant a second chance for Draco. As he was escorted away from Potter anguished cries, he made a promise to himself. He would no longer be what every one, in particular his father, had expected him to be. He would be the person that had been deeply hidden and repressed.
The real Draco.
Of course he would have to work at it, work at letting that part of him exist with out fear of reprisal. He knew he was not the cruel person he was so carefully cultivated to be. It would be hard to let the old, learned and mastered habits go but he would try. He had to try. He could no longer pretend to hate people for just having the wrong bloodline. He could no longer pretend to hate Potter or Granger, or any other folk for that matter, just because they weren't wizard royalty. First though, he had to tell his parents, Let them know straight out who he truly was, how he truly felt. Let them know how he had been putting on an act for years. Let them know he would not live the rest of his life in a lie. If they would not accept him, he would have to go off on his own. There was no way around it.
With
that realization, he sighed and ran his hand through his long blond
hair that had grown due to months of neglect, while their homes and
their lives had been consumed by Voldemort. Making up his mind was
the easy part. His father was not a kind or understanding man. He
would most likely end up on his own but with his trust fund still
untouchable for months. He would be like a helpless child. He kicked
at the railing in frustration. Damn! It could not be as easy as
walking in and saying "Morning Mum, morning Father. Today I'm
going to go hug a muggle." He would have to wait it out, slowly
wean his parents into seeing the new and improved Draco Malfoy.
"Draco?"
"Out here mother" he
called, frustrated.
"Draco, we need to see you
downstairs, now." There was a tone to her voice. Panic? Fear?
"I'll get dressed and be down shortly"
Suddenly
his heart was pounding in his chest. Something was wrong. Was he
back? Was Voldemort somehow still alive? No, it couldn't be. If there
was any possibility, Potter would not have been so ecstatic at his
final blow that fell the beast. What ever it was, it could not
possibly be worse than all Voldemort had inflicted.
Grabbing
the discarded clothes from the night before, he shook them out and
started to dress, but paused. His shirt still stank of the fire...of
the war. Disgusted, he threw it onto of his discarded black pants and
cloak. Gathering them all in his arms,
he walked out to the
balcony and threw the entire lot into the ocean below.
"Good
riddance" he muttered.
It was a good way to
start his new life. Swearing he would never wear black again, he
opened his armoire; he pulled out a white linen drawstring pants, and
a matching button-down shirt. Island-wear, he thought as he grinned
briefly before remembering his waiting parents.
Choosing to go barefoot, he left his sandals behind to join his
parents.
Lucius and Narcissa were seated at the table on
the outside veranda. His father, reading today's Daily Prophet,
closed it up and motioned to the only empty chair at the table as
Draco entered.
"There's been a complication"
he said in his low draw.
"What do you mean
complication?" Fear prickled through him. It must be true.
Potter hadn't completed the job, the incompetent git!
Any praise
he had for the man only minutes before was gone. Opening the paper,
then folding it purposely, Lucius turned it so Draco could have a
clear look at the papers headlines.
"Hermione
Granger missing, feared dead"
Draco's heart
seized in his chest. Grabbing the paper fiercely from his fathers
grip, he kicked his chair out and walked to the veranda wall over
looking the water. There was a picture of the golden trio, Hermione
standing in the middle of Ron and Harry, smiling
grandly. Reading
over the article quickly, he only caught a few words:
"Ronald Weasley dead; no body yet found in the
search for Miss Granger."
"Possibly kidnapped or
killed by Lucious and Draco Malfoy, last seen leaving the great hall
moments after Voldemort's demise"
"What? Father,
you have to get in touch with the ministry, you have to tell them
where we are, so the can clear us of these charges!"
"Read
further Draco" Lucius encouraged calmly.
Picking
up where he left off, Draco only read a few more lines before he came
across what his father wanted him to see:
"It is
speculated that Draco Malfoy is to blame for the death of Ronald
Weasley."
"Father, this is ridiculous. You must
floo there now; tell them I had nothing to do with this!"
"It's not that simple Draco. I am still a wanted Death Eater. I
cannot simply walk into the ministry declaring your innocence! They
would have me thrown in Azkaban the moment I show my face."
"You can't or you won't?" Draco spat, "You won't go
there to defend your only son in an effort to save your own hide."
All the years of yearning for his father's affections and
approval, all the years of suffering at his father hands and words
welled up in him. As he felt the last glimmer of hope he had for a
normal life slip away, he exploded. Flying across the table, he
grabbed his father by the collar, pulled him out of the chair and
pushed him to the veranda wall, leaning him dangerously over the
edge.
"Tell me why I shouldn't let go. Tell me why I
should care if you die or not, you miserable bastard. Your wands'
still on the table father, you can't save yourself"
Lucius's
eyes bulged in fear, but his voice stayed even.
"You
couldn't kill Dumbledore, but you would kill your own father
Draco?"
"Dumbledore was kinder than me in
those last few moments that you have been my entire life. The word
father means nothing to me."
"Be that as it may,
I have only done what I thought best for our family, Draco. Including
yourself, which is why we will stay here until this Miss Granger is
found and the dust from the war settles a bit."
A
gentle hand rested on Draco's shoulders.
"Draco
darling, please stop. Please" said a soft voice.
There
were tears in his mother's eyes. Eyes that were saying much more than
her words had. They were sad, pleading eyes. She loved his father
despite all he had put them through. Draco knew she understood his
anger just as he knew she understood Lucius in a way Draco would
never be able to. She was the one person he could ever depend on, the
only person who had ever really loved him. He could not hurt her,
even if it meant not hurting Lucius. Pulling his father up away
from danger, he let go of his grip around the man's throat. He had
to leave, just get away from his father and mother and clear his
head. Stepping back, he gave his mother a quick look of apology, then
with a pop, he apparated away.
