Chapter Thirteen

"Please! Don't hurt me!" the woman cried as she was pushed face forward against the alley wall. She grunted as she felt her face connect with the cold bricks. Large hands grabbed her shoulders and kept her pressed flat against the building.

"Just give us all your money and we won't hurt you," the dark skinned boy replied as he flicked open his pocket knife.

"Blaise…" another whispered as he stood in the background. He spoke low enough so the woman couldn't hear them.

"What?" Blaise looked over at his companion; the blond had his head turned to the side, not wishing to see the scene unfolding before him. He kept his arms folded over his chest and his hood low over his eyes.

Draco kept his eyes averted and said nothing in response. He didn't know what to say; he felt he couldn't just out and tell Blaise that he didn't like what they were doing. That it felt wrong. Somehow sneaking up on a defenseless woman and ganging up on her didn't seem right.

"Well?" Blaise persisted impatiently. Draco could make out the faint sounds of sobbing coming from the woman. She was still pleading with them, begging them not to hurt her. Draco's eyes flitted in her direction and upon seeing her shaking and frightened form, the memory of disappointed and equally fearful green eyes flashed through his mind. Guilt suddenly filled him and a sick feeling hit his stomach.

"Nothing," he muttered and turned his head away again. "Just hurry up." He heard Blaise turn back to the woman. It took only a few moments to snatch her bag from her and rummage around in it for any cash she carried. When at last Blaise got what he was looking for, he threw the bag back at the woman.

"Just stay there and don't turn around until we're out of sight, got that?" Blaise growled as he pressed the blade of his knife against her back threatening. She merely nodded, chocking out another sob, as Blaise backed away and motioned for the others to leave.

They ran from the deserted alleyway, Draco taking up the rear, and disappeared around a corner. When they put a few blocks distance between them and the woman, they stopped. Draco panted as he looked around. The roads were basically deserted and there weren't any other people walking about.

"…Hardly worth the trouble," Blaise grunted as he cut the money and gave the small portions to each person there. "But it's better than risking bigger robberies at the moment. Bloody police everywhere now."

Draco pocketed the cash and kept his eyes downcast. The guilt kept growing and gnawing at his mind, swirling around in the pit of his stomach sickeningly.

"Draco, what's up with you?"

Draco raised his eyes to meet Blaise's. Blaise looked as cold as ever; his dark eyes were glittering with cruelty, hate and anger. Draco had come to know this as the way the boy always looked. He hardly ever saw any kind of happiness coming from Blaise.

"Nothing, just think that that didn't feel right."

"What?"

"Robbing that woman."

"What do you mean?" Blaise stepped forward, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You've been acting like this a lot Draco. Are you getting cold feet again?"

Draco clenched his fists and glared at Blaise. He didn't say anything; he knew angering Blaise wasn't exactly a smart thing to do.

"Well?" Blaise grabbed Draco's arm roughly and squeezed it. Draco kept his head turned, jaw set and eyes focused in the opposite direction. "Do you need reminding that I'm the one who brought you back on your feet? You had your sorry ass in the gutter and I gave you a way out."

Draco sat with his back against the wall, the chilly night air cutting through his ragged jacket. He kept his arms around his knees and stared at the floor. His mother and father had been fighting; yelling and screaming at each other. His father had lost his job and his mother was worried and angry. Draco couldn't stand the screaming; his mother's shrill voice and his father's low growl.

He had run from the house, hands over his ears and not looking at either of his parents. He had to get away from all of that. He didn't want to hear any of it; so he ran down the street and didn't look back. He had run until his legs collapsed on him and his lungs burned out. He had been sitting in the spot he had collapsed near for hours. The wind rustled dry leaves along the cement and sent shivers down his arms and spine.

'Why can't things ever be normal?' he thought bitterly as he glared at the ground, as if it were responsible for all of his troubles. He was shocked however when a shadow fell over him and several pairs of feet appeared in his line of sight.

"Hey kid," one of them said. "You better scram, this here is our spot."

"Whatever," Draco mumbled as he looked up at the others. There were five boys all around his age, each varying in size. The smallest one had dark skin, dark eyes and a menacing look on his face. He seemed annoyed at Draco's presence.

"I said scram," he said again with more force. Draco just glared up at him with equal annoyance. 'Why can't they just let me be?"

"Leave me alone," he gritted out. His fingers dug into the fabric of his jeans as he clutched his knees. He was trying to suppress all of the rage that had built up inside of him over the last few hours.

The boys around him laughed as if he had told the funniest joke in the world. This caused Draco's face to heat up and his anger to bubble even more.

"This one thinks he's tough," the dark boy said to the others. The larger ones guffawed moronically. Draco had the feeling they were just laughing to please the boy, not because they found it funny. "But I wonder if he's really as tough as he thinks."

Draco jumped to his feet just as they began closing around him. The dark one's eyes glinted as he watched him. Draco had to think fast; he figured this situation could turn real ugly real fast. Without thinking, he dodged around one of the large ones that had come at him and landed a punch right in the dark one's face. The boy growled as he clutched his jaw. He reached into his pocket and brought out a switchblade, grinning as he let it glint in the light menacingly.

Draco quickly fumbled through his pocket and brought out his own knife. The two stared at each other, blades raised and ready to use. Draco was panting roughly, his face set in a stubborn scowl, the other one was grinning at him; though no humor was found in his expression.

Then he laughed again and put away his blade; Draco's eyes widened at what he was witnessing. 'Is he backing down? Was this all just a joke? Why's he laughing?'

"Jesus kid, something's sure got you pissed off. And I know it wasn't just us."

Draco lowered his blade slightly in surprise. He hadn't expected him to say anything like that.

"What's your name?" The other boy was grinning and looking at him with interest. Draco eyed him warily; first the boy tries to kill him and now he wants to know his name?

"Draco," he said cautiously, knife still poised in the air. He didn't want to take any chances. He wasn't afraid to use the knife if the need arose.

"Well Draco," the boy said. "My name's Blaise and this is the rest of my gang: Goyle, Crabbe, Nott, and Macnair."

Draco looked at them all in turn; they were all quite large and mean looking. He was glad he wasn't taking them all on at once; there would be no way he would win.

"So what's your story boy?" Blaise asked him.

"I don't have a story," Draco answered, finally lowering his knife but keeping it open.

"Bullshit. Everyone has a story. And you gotta have a reason to be out here alone, looking all angry at the world."

Draco chewed on the inside of his cheek in frustration. Couldn't this guy just take a hint and leave? He didn't want to spill his guts to a complete stranger, let alone some gang member.

"Piss off." He shoved his way past the large boys and was relieved when they didn't try to stop him. Blaise, however, seemed quite persistent.

"We could help you, you know."

Draco stopped in his tracks, shoulders tense and breathing shallow. He turned back around and faced them again.

"What?"

"Whatever problems you're having, we can help."

"How?"

"You gotta tell us what the problem is first."

Draco eyed them all again. Were they kidding him? Were they just making fun of him and his obvious problems? 'Only one way to find out I guess.'

"I need money. My father lost his job and my mother is too ill to get a job."

"We can help you there."

"You can?"

"As long as you stick to us, you'll be fine. Of course, you'll have to do a few things for us."

Draco paused for a few moments before nodding, accepting the offer; accepting this new fate.

"Well?" Blaise urged again, his cold eyes fixed on him.

"No," Draco replied dully. "I remember."

"Good."

Draco shrugged out of Blaise's grip and walked away. They didn't call after him or try to stop him; they knew he would come back. He always came back. It made him sick knowing that they knew that. All of his efforts to become independent had only caused him to become so dependent on a group of criminals.

He walked down the cold and empty streets, his hands in his pockets and his fingers brushing against the money in them.

'Such dirty money,' he thought bitterly as he clenched his hands around it. He didn't know why he cared now; he never did before. 'Ever since I met Harry, this fucking guilt has been taking over.'

He looked up at the sky; it was a dark and steely gray. Fat rain clouds hung low and heavy. It was another one of those cold and drab Tuesday mornings. Instead of being in school, he was out there, wandering the streets like a rat without a home; with a pocket full of stolen money and a conscience full of guilt.

He looked around at the shops and homes as he walked; shop windows were decorated with Halloween festivities. They displayed costumes for children, bags and boxes of sweets, and Halloween designed toys. House steps and windowsills were adorned with Jack-O-Lanterns and spooky decorations. Everyone was getting into the spirit of the holiday only two days away.

'Everyone except me,' he thought as he continued on. His thoughts drifted to Harry; the boy had invited him to do some holiday stuff with him and the Granger girl. He didn't know if he was looking forward to that or not; it wasn't like he had anything else to do.

Rubbing his hands together and coughing lightly, he rounded a corner and began down the next street. This one had a few people on it. The most prominent figure was that of ragged old man by the gutter. He was holding an old rusted saxophone in his hands as his lips blew against the mouthpiece, creating an array of soft jazz music. People would drop coins in the cup beside him as they walked by. He watched the man for awhile; his coat was torn and stained, his feet bare and body thin. His most treasured possession seemed to be that of the instrument he was so lovingly playing.

'To live your life day by day, never knowing where your next meal is coming from; never knowing where you're sleeping that night; never knowing if you'll still be alive the next day. Is that how this man lives?'

Draco bit his lip and his fingers flitted across the rolled up money in his pocket once again before he headed down the sidewalk. As he passed the dark old man, he pulled out the wad of money and stuffed it in the cup.

'Take the money,' he thought as he walked on, not even looking back. 'It's too heavy. I don't want it.'

"More water," his mother croaked as she reached out for him. Draco hurried over to her and held her head up as he brought the glass to her lips. She sipped the water down and sighed. He set the cup back down and asked her if she needed anything else.

"Oh Draco," Narcissa said as she reached up and touched his face. "How did it come to this?"

"It's not your fault mother."

"I should have been a better mother for you."

"You're a perfect mother."

"Don't lie to me. Look at us. Look at you. You carry this family by yourself. You're my brave son."

"Don't worry about that."

"Why can't I be a good mother and take care of my son like I'm supposed to?"

"You've taken good care of me all of these years."

"I wish it wasn't this way."

"Shh, just rest and don't think about it mother. Everything is fine. I'll take care of everything."

Narcissa nodded and rested her head back down. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out. He brought the blanket closer around her and stood up from his kneeled position. He walked out of the room and into the hallway. He checked his watch; just a few hours before he needed to be at the restaurant for his shift. He decided he needed a shower; his boss didn't like it when his waiters showed up dirty and smelly.

Draco walked into the bathroom and closed the door. He walked over to the shower and turned it on before heading over to the sink. He took off his shirt and threw it to the floor before turning on the tap. He opened the medicine cabinet and brought out a bottle of aspirin before closing it again.

He popped one of the tiny pills into his mouth and bent over the faucet, drinking straight from the stream of water. He swallowed the water and the aspirin down before straightening his head and staring into the cabinet mirror.

His eyes seemed sunken; there were dark circles around them, the results of lack of sleep and too much work. His hair fell into his pale face limply. His cheeks seemed thinner, as if he had lost a lot of weight over a short amount of time. He supposed that was from not eating sufficiently. His eyes roamed over the rest of his body; it had been awhile since he had taken a good look at himself. His arms were lightly muscled from all of the heavy lifting he did at the mechanics shop and the diner. But the rest of him was thin and pale.

Shaking his head and running a hand through his hair, he stripped the rest of his clothing and stepped into the cold shower. Cold water always helped his muscles relax and clear his mind.

'I'm living in a nightmare; a cold, dark, horrifying nightmare that I can't wake up from. Everything seems so wrong, so twisted. Why didn't I know this is how it was going to end up?'

When he was finished showering, he dressed in his work clothes and headed into the kitchen. He decided to get something to eat before he left; he didn't know when he'd be back and his stomach was already protesting loudly.

He went to the stove and turned on one of the burners. He rummaged around for a pot underneath the sink. He filled it with water and set it on the burner, waiting a few minutes for it to boil. He reached up into one of the cupboards and pulled out a pack of instant noodles. He looked over the package before tearing it open with his teeth and adding it to the boiling water.

He looked through the fridge before pulling out a carrot and some fresh mushrooms he had bought on sale the other day. He brought them to the cutting board and sliced them up with a clean knife before adding them into the mix. He stirred it for a few minutes and turned off the burner. Not even bothering to pour the contents into a bowel, he grabbed a fork and brought the pot over to the table. He slammed it down on the top before sitting himself down in the chair.

He scooped up the noodles into his mouth, all the while watching the entrance to the kitchen. He heard his father out there; he knew the man was probably drinking at that very moment. He wondered if the he would come in there. Draco almost wanted him to; he wanted a reason to get angry, a reason to let all of his frustrations out on someone.

But he never did; the kitchen remained silent as he finished up his meager meal. He deposited the pot into the sink before picking up his jacket and heading out the door. He walked out into the living room and his tired eyes landed on his father. As he had suspected, he was drinking and staring up at the ceiling; his father's eyes were blank and bloodshot.

'Does he even know I'm here?' He figured not. Without a word, he walked out of the house.

The dishes clinked against each other as he cleared the table of dirty plates and cups. He dropped them into the bucket he was hauling around. He picked up the tip from the table and pocketed it before wiping the table and chairs down with the rag he had. Once finished, he picked up the bucket and started walking to the back room.

One of the bus boys had called in sick so Draco was covering for him along with his own waiter duties. Twice the work but not double the pay. He shoved the kitchen door open and dumped the dirty dishes next to the dish washer. He wiped his hands on his apron before heading back out.

"More tea please waiter!"

"Waiter, this soup is too salty."

"Waiter, service please!

Draco was hustling about all night, taking orders, refilling drinks, taking orders back to be fixed and clearing tables. His stress was through the roof and his body was battling fatigue. To say the least, he was relieved when it was his break time.

He headed out into the back alley behind the restaurant for a smoke. The night was chilly and the sky was still blanketed with ominous clouds. The air was thick with the promise of an upcoming storm.

'Just what we need too,' he thought bitterly as he lit his cigarette and took a long drag from it. It seemed to do little to alleviate the stress he was feeling.

"Nice night don't you think?" a woman's voice said from behind him. Draco turned and saw one of the waitresses that worked the same shift as him. He remembered her name being Debbie or something like that.

He blew out his smoke and looked her over. She was tall with large breasts and curly black hair. She wore a liberal amount of red lipstick and mascara. The waitress suit looked frumpy and unattractive on her.

"Mind if I bum?" she asked as she leaned against the wall. Draco just shrugged and held out his pack. She took one and thanked him. "Have been meaning to buy a new pack for a week now."

Draco didn't answer, just turned away and continued smoking his cigarette. The wind rustled his hair as he tapped some flickering ashes to the ground.

"So how old are you now Draco?" she asked him suddenly. "Sixteen? Seventeen?"

'What's she getting at?'

"Sixteen."

"I bet the girls are all over you."

Draco ignored her; besides, her statement couldn't have been further from the truth.

"Do you have a girlfriend Draco?"

He looked over at her with suspicion. 'Is she hitting on me?'

"No."

"Such a shame. A handsome boy like you shouldn't go to waste." She smiled seductively at him and took a few steps forward. He watched her uninterestedly as she continued moving closer to him. Whatever she was trying, he knew he wasn't interested. At all. She was at least ten years older than him.

"Perhaps I can remedy that…hmm?" she whispered as she moved close to him. He just raised an eyebrow at her and said nothing. She leaned closer to him, obviously expecting him to kiss her. She was severely disappointed, however. Draco merely blew a puff of smoke in her face, causing her to cough and back up. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and stepped on it.

"No thanks," he said before opening the back door and walking back inside. Debbie or whatever her name was hadn't approached him the rest of the shift; he occasionally caught the sour looks she would give him but he just shrugged them off. He could care less what the woman thought of him.

When he cleared off the last table and dropped the dishes off in the kitchen, it was finally quitting time for him. He untied the apron around his waist and waved good-bye to the manager as he was closing up. He walked out into the night as everyone else was getting in their cars, preparing to drive on home.

'I have no home to go to,' he thought. 'At least not a real home.' Deciding he'd rather not go back to his house that night, Draco took a turn in the opposite direction and began walking to one of the local parks. That was where he often went now whenever he found himself unable to sleep in his own house. Sometimes the place was so blanketed with despair and the stench of dying that he could barely breathe, let alone sleep.

His feet crunched over the wet and springy grass of one of the play parks. It was one of the larger ones; trees surrounded the area and there were several grassy hills that kids liked to roll down whenever they came there. Sometimes during the summer Draco even caught a few kids sliding down the hills on giant blocks of ice. There were also several benches that surrounded the park; they weren't the most comfortable place to sleep but it was better than on the ground or the wet grass.

He lay his back down on the bench, the wood digging into his back. He stared up at the sky through a canopy of leaves. Some of the clouds had drifted away, leaving spaces of black sky open. He could make out a few of the twinkling stars and the moon shining through the clouds. He stared up at the stars, watching as they shone down on the world. It made him think of Severus.

'I wonder where he's at now,' he thought. 'Is he at home, gazing through his fancy telescope at a world beyond this one? What does he see when he looks through that telescope? Does he see something I can't see? What's so special about stars and moons and distant planets?'

Draco closed his eyes for a brief moment. He tried to bring himself back into the world where his mother was healthy, his father happy. The world where he heard lullabies as he drifted off to sleep; not the sounds of car alarms going off and people yelling somewhere far away.

Hush-a-bye

Don't you cry

He took a deep breath of the thick night air; it filled his lungs and swirled icily throughout his body. He thought of the times when he never felt angry; when he never hated. When he never felt scared.

Go to sleep my little ba-by

Draco opened his eyes and exhaled loudly. The frosty air rose up in front of him and disappeared into the night sky. He looked back up at the stars; they were glaring down at him now. 'Do stars see what I do? Are they angry that I have done bad to the world?'

When you wake

You shall have

Could stars tell stories? If so would they tell of the criminal boy who slept like a homeless person on benches at night? Draco squeezed his eyes shut and clutched at the side of the bench. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes; it had been so long since he had truly cried. It bubbled up inside of him and yet he tried to push it back down. Before he knew it, he was sitting up on the bench, screaming at the top of his lungs to the sky, where all of the stars seemed to be laughing at him and his misery. Dogs barked in the distance at the noise as Draco clutched his head and sobbed into his chest.

All the pretty little horses

Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for this delay! I decided to take a little break from writing, just so I don't totally burn out from doing daily updates. Anyway, here's chapter thirteen!

As for dedication: this one goes to Mimaindi Thank you for all of your great reviews!

Thanks for all of your reviews!