Author's Note: Thank you again to all who have reviewed, favorited, story alerted, etc! Thanks especially to layafel, AngelHeartOfMine, Miss Snowflake, texansmartie33 and dreadfuldelights who have kindly reviewed my other stories in addition to this one. I'm taking a bit of time to do my gratitudes at this time because I'm *gasp* almost to the end of my first short story! So this is history in the making! (at least in my life) XD

Escape

The quiet of the cell was starting to get to him. After having vented his anger out on the teacup, he realized that he probably wouldn't be getting another. He sat on the edge of the thin mattress and stared at the broken pieces of porcelain under the window. A day or two before or a week or month ago – he felt numb to the passing time – he'd burned his fingers on that same window, testing the spells that Dolohov had put up after that night he had escaped his room.

The door opened. He felt so dead at this point that he did not even look up to see who had come in. "Draco," came the coolly pleasant voice he had come to know and hate. He showed no reaction. Dolohov moved into his line of vision so that his view of the shattered cup was replaced by black robes. "Draco." Not so pleasant now. A wand appeared in front of his face and still he showed no response. Dolohov made a sudden swipe against Draco's cheek, bringing a stinging pain and instantly brought Draco to his feet and reaching for Dolohov who had rapidly moved back. Rowel's meaty hands grabbed at Draco's arm froms behind and held him in place. Draco kicked out at the grunt who kicked Draco's feet from under him and slammed him against the floor, his arms held high above his back with Rowel's heavy weight on his legs, enough pressure to let Draco know that he wasn't putting his full weight on him but would at provocation. "Your parents have neglected to teach you manners," Dolohov commented. "Come. We are going to have a family meeting." Rowel pulled the young man up, pinning his arms behind him and pushing him in the direction Dolohov indicated.

He was led into the hallway, past his mother's cell to what Draco assumed normally served as a living room except it was bare of any furniture, an unlit fireplace against one wall and a large window facing the doorway, in front of which stood Lucius and Narcissa, who was clutching her husband's arm. Rowel brought him to the opposite side of the window and carefully let go of him before moving to stand beside Dolohov who had his wand trained on the family. Draco's gaze swept over his parents, taking in his mother's skeletal-like frame and his father's weary face and slumped shoulders. He knew he wasn't any better off and that knowledge burned in the pit of his stomach.

"Well, hopefully you've had a pleasant stay these past months, but I'm sorry to say that we have now come to the close of this chapter of the Malfoy family." With these words, Draco's attention was shifted abruptly back to Dolohov who seemed to enjoy the riveted and silent attention of the Malfoys. "With the fortune you have so lovingly bestowed upon your close friend, myself, I will be able to call together the last Dark Wizards and finish the task that the Dark Lord set upon us so many years ago. My first order of business, of course, being to finally kill The-Boy-Who-Won't-Die. I will make sure that your name is remembered." His voice took on a dark and furious undertone, the color in his cheeks rising as he continued, "Remembered as traitors to all that we wizards who hold our birthright and blood as sacred." The wand in his hand started to shake with his pent-up emotion as if the spell he was waiting to cast was trying to burst out the other end.

"The Malfoys will suffer a tragic and cowardly death, to be mourned by no one—hated by blood traitors and mudbloods, scorned by purebloods. No one will be too surprised to hear that Lucius took Draco's wand in a fit of anger and killed his son for attempting to defile his family with a mudblood girl and that afterwards he killed himself over guilt, remorse, whatever. No one will really care. It will be in the papers for a day or so and then be relegated to history with the next scandal that arises. And you, pretty Narcissa Black," the man's crazed gaze took in the shaking woman, his voice taking on what Draco assumed was to be a gentle tone but came out more predatory, "will restore your family name by my side. But, enough talk, let's get this over with."

The next minute happened almost too fast for Draco to register, as he watched Dolohov raise his wand in his direction, mouthing the words of the Killing Curse. His own limbs felt frozen, unable to raise a defense for himself as he faced death with regrets and a life only barely lived. Suddenly, his father's face appeared in front of him, the older man's eyes meeting Draco's as the curse hit him from behind and snapped his head back, long white-blond hair flying, eyes rolling up, his body caught in the grip of separating from his spirit. Draco watched as his father's body crumpled to the ground revealing Dolohov behind him who stood in shock at Lucius' last noble action.

Acting on instinct, fueled by grief, hate and anger, Draco called out "Expelliarmus!" His wand flew out of Dolohov's grip and into Draco's who had reached over and gripped his mother. Draco's silver gaze met Dolohov's black eyes, his wand raised and his mouth open to curse him.

And hesitated.

His thoughts raced. Though this man was responsible for the death of his father and others before him, his own imprisonment for Merlin knew how long, the abuse of his mother and the threatened harm to Hermione, he could not kill him. He wasn't able to take someone's life when he was a teenager and he wasn't able to do it now. Dolohov took note of his hesitation and moved forward. "Stupefy!" Dolohov dropped unconscious. Draco did the same to Rowel and, making sure his hold of his mother was firm, turned on the spot and disapparated.

He appeared in middle of the Ministry's courtyard near the fountain that had once housed a monument to wizard-kind and the lesser creatures of the magical world and where now stood a memorial to Dumbledore. The wizards and witches nearby were shocked by the sudden appearance of a bedraggled man and woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to Draco and Narcissa Malfoy, moving quickly away from the spot they had appeared. Where once Draco may have felt ashamed at appearing in public looking so barbaric, he could not care as he made his way to the entrance, keeping a light but firm hold on his mother. He could make out the security desk and the fair-haired man standing there start at a witch's whisper to his ear. The guard got up from his seat and started forward towards Draco who met him just a few meters away from the desk. The wizard's wand was drawn and pointed at Draco.

"Stop right there!" the man barked out, suspicion evident in his eyes. Draco obliged him, stepping a bit in front of his mother who stood quietly behind him. "Who are you?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy and this is my mother Narcissa. We've just escaped from months of imprisonment from a man who thinks he is the next Dark Lord. I'd like to see the Head Auror." Draco could see that the man didn't quite believe him, but one couldn't ignore how unkempt they must look with the undernourished, tired faces and tattered clothing. "Please, just believe me. I've got two Death Eaters stupefied in a shack in the middle of nowhere and we've got to go back and get them before they come to. Please take me to Harry Potter." He could hear the desperation in his own voice.

The man wavered but then firmed his chin up. "I'm sorry but Mr. Potter isn't in today. You will need to fill out some paperwork and his office will get back to you within a day or two." He seemed to at least think Draco wasn't a threat and dropped his wand hand as he moved behind his desk to grab a few sheets of paper and a quill. Draco couldn't believe it. Was he seriously going to have to go through some bureaucratic bullshit so that he could get some help in taking down a maniacal yet dangerous git? He was wasting precious time standing here waiting for basically nothing to happen while Dolohov and Rowel were probably now awake.

Thinking with only getting his mother safe and Dolohov in the Ministry's hands, Draco took the only course he felt he could. Bringing his mother forward, he gently pushed her into the startled guard's hold who dropped the papers he was about to hand to Draco. "You take care of her. Or so help me god, I will make Voldemort look like the bloody Tooth Fairy," he hissed at the man through clenched teeth. And with that, he turned on the spot and Disapparated back to the cabin in the woods.

He immediately noticed that the front door was unhinged as if it had been blasted open. Looking at the surrounding area, he noticed two sets of footprints in the dirt moving out from the building. He silently cursed to himself. Dolohov and Rowel must have woken up while he was dealing with the blasted Ministerial desk security. Cautiously he moved to the open door and silently moved into the front hallway. He looked into the living room his family had been kept in and his heart wrenched, seeing his father's broken body. He didn't allow those emotions that nearly engulfed him to break loose, and he moved through the other few rooms to make sure they were empty. The Death Eaters had fled.

He went back to the living room again to kneel at his father's side. The stern face was frozen in an expression of—peace wasn't the right word. No, the word that came to mind was relief. As if the man had felt that life was a burden for too long and now that it was lifted off his shoulders he could finally get some rest. Draco bowed his head and touched his hand lightly to Lucius' unmoving chest, for just a moment. He unhooked his cloak and laid it over the body, promising himself that he would come back once Dolohov was settled, to properly honor his father. He stood up and moved outside.

He surveyed the tracks, noting how they abruptly disappeared in the middle of the yard. He closed his eyes, taking in the quiet of the surrounding woods. It was early afternoon, yet the sounds of life were very few. Having been subject to Dolohov's insults and ravings for so long, he felt that he had some idea of how the man thought. Draco had escaped with his mother, his father was dead and the only person he might go after to gain power over Draco was—Merlin—Hermione.

Opening his eyes, he turned on the spot, calling up the image of her bookshop and appeared in the middle of her dark office. Memories of stolen moments in this very space overwhelmed him for a split second as he caught a trace of her cinnamon-vanilla scent. But the urgency of the situation couldn't be ignored. Doing a quick search through the office and the front of the shop, he didn't see signs of any struggles or kidnapping. In fact, it looked like she hadn't come in at all. Pausing a moment in front of the store window, he looked out at the bustling thoroughfare, men and women going about their business without a care in the world as he fought for his own life and the lives of the people he loved. He felt envy.

Taking a deep breath to focus himself, he Disapparated to Hermione's flat, right in front of her door. Thankfully there was no one in the hallway to notice his sudden arrival. Using a spell to open her lock, he allowed the door to fall silently open while keeping his wand at the ready. Her lights were off, her curtains open to the park outside her window, the weak autumn sun filtering in. Not a thing seemed to be disturbed. Her books neatly arranged on her numerous bookshelves on the wall opposite, her various muggle knickknacks sitting peacefully in their spots. Again, instances from their shared past hit him and he had to struggle to keep himself to the task and not collapse. He moved cautiously but quickly through her bedroom and kitchen and then got out of there. He leaned up against the wall just outside her door, his hands against his face, overwhelmed by his need to find her and touch her and assure himself of her existence, that he hadn't imagined their months together, that it had not all just been his imagination run wild while imprisoned. He didn't know where to go now. He felt that trying to find her at her parents, the Potters', the Weasleys', Diagon Alley…the list was endless and would just waste so much time. For all he knew, Dolohov did have her. His breath shortened and he suddenly felt he was struggling for his next breath. He knew he was starting to panic but he couldn't help it.

He straightened and concentrated on taking deeper breaths. For Merlin's sake, he was a Malfoy and a Malfoy always got what he wanted. Pulling himself together, he took the rolling emotions he had connected to Hermione and centered it on the need to find her. He'd never tried this before, and he didn't know if it would work or even if he would survive it but he couldn't let more time pass. He turned on the spot, feeling the familiar sensation of being twisted and pulled through a too-small tube. The feeling dissipated and his feet landed on solid ground. He didn't open his eyes yet, just wanting to make sure that he had arrived all in one piece. Not feeling any different, he warily opened his eyes.

He was standing in front of a large set of wooden doors. He looked around. The foyer he was in was empty of any people, white flowers in abundance near the various settees and benches, a rich rug beneath his feet covering the stone floor. It looked to be a chapel. His attention moved back to the doors, a forbidding feeling settling in his stomach. Slowly, he inched one of the doors open and took in the crowded seats on one side of the room. He heard a man's gentle voice, "If there is anyone who would object to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace." This was a wedding obviously. The question being: whose?

That feeling in his stomach grew teeth and started gnawing at his insides. Moving the door open, his gaze moved to the front of the large room and to the raised steps where he could make out the tall, lanky form of a red-haired man. As if to confirm his suspicion, the officiator stated, "Ronald Bilius Weasley, do you—" and was interrupted by the sound of the door slamming open. Draco's eyes had moved to the bride, taking in the beautiful brunette whom he had lived and breathed and survived hell for and promptly lost his grip on the heavy door. The words were out of his mouth before he was consciously aware of them as all heads turned his way. "I object."