Chapter 17

Waking up in his new flat was always accompanied by a brief moment of disorientation. There was the unfamiliar scent, though today, it still mingled with a hint of Astoria's perfume, an abundance of sounds coming up from the street below, the light of a bright sky shining in through the ceiling, and the distinct lack of a home-made breakfast served by Dibly. Despite all of that, Draco woke up feeling something akin to contentment. Once again, Astoria had proven that she knew him better than he knew himself because, as it turned out, he was indeed happier away from him parents and the darkness that surrounded Malfoy Manor like a raincloud. However, she wasn't entirely right about everything. Still lying in bed, Draco's thoughts wandered back to last night's conversation and the look of excitement in Astoria's eyes when she had determined that they had to do something about the book he had traded for the nefarious spell. She was definitely wrong about that because they didn't have to do anything about it. In fact, what they had to do was leave the matter well alone. The short moments he had spent with the secret society had been more than enough to tell him the matter was not something he should meddle with and somehow, he would have to convince Astoria to do the same. His days of dealing with the Dark Arts were over and he was not going to drag Astoria into this particular circle of hell. Not if he could avoid it. There had to be some way to change her mind.

Even during breakfast, Draco's thoughts kept circling around the topic again and again, wondering how he could possibly combat Astoria's excitement about the matter. He also wondered what unspeakable evil the group could accomplish with one simple spellbook, especially when they had told him magic was only to be used if everyone consented. Draco's realised that his tea and breakfast didn't taste nearly as good as they should have because his mind was still preoccupied. Once more, Astoria proved to be right because he was sure that he would find it easier to let go if he only knew what the book contained, why the woman had wanted it so much. He cursed under his breath and set the empty mug back down on the table, knowing that his newly acquired conscience wouldn't let him rest until he knew.

Even though the Floo Network made it exceptionally easy to travel across the world, living right on Diagon Alley and only a couple of steps from Flourish & Blotts certainly had its advantages. Draco made his way through the street before he had even finished his breakfast, the collar of his cloak turned up high. That alone wouldn't arouse anyone's suspicion because the autumn air had turned cold quite quickly within the last few days, but Draco's reasons were of a different nature. Although a few years had passed since the war, his and his father's acquittal had been made quite public in the Prophet and every now and then he still caught people staring as if they could wish him into a cell at Azkaban simply by looking. Today, however, no one paid him even the least bit of attention as he walked into Flourish and Blotts, not even as he headed straight into the back where Draco knew the owner kept the few books about the Dark Arts that had survived the Ministry purge. He wouldn't be able to find the book he had traded here, but maybe, Draco could find a mention of it somewhere that would tell him enough about its contents to be sure the secret society wasn't up to anything too sinister.

"What are you doing here?!"

Draco wasn't entirely sure how long he had been browsing the shelves of the bookshop when an all too familiar voice tore him from his thoughts. He looked up from his book and wasn't surprised to see the red hair and angry face of Ron Weasley glaring at him.

All of his instincts told him to attack, to retort with whatever rudeness came to his mind and fall back into being the Draco Malfoy he had been at school. The sight of Weasley tempted him greatly. Yet whether he liked it or not, Astoria had made an impact on him and she had so far proven to be right about everything. Maybe, it really was time to bury the hatched and not fall back into old ways, however tempting they were.

"I'm reading," Draco replied simply and looked back down at the book in his hands. He could just ignore his old enemy. It was as easy as breathing.

That was until the book was rudely smacked out of his hands and fell to the floor. "The hell you are!" Weasley spat and went to pick up the book.

Draco tried to beat him to it, but the Auror training seemed to have increased Weasley's reflexes. At least, Draco couldn't remember him having them during their Quidditch games at school. It was Ron who won the race to the book.

"Give it back!" Draco demanded, but the redhead paid him no attention as he studied the cover and flicked through the contents.

Slowly, Weasley raised his head, but he was still glaring when he met Draco's gaze. He desperately wanted to say the word, however hard it was.

"Please."

Something changed in his expression, a brief whiff of confusion, but his features hardened again quickly. "Did Draco Malfoy just use the word please?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm not looking for trouble, okay? I just want to read in peace. So, give it back."

Ron Weasley hesitated and for a moment, Draco actually believed that he would cave, that he would return the book and be on his way, that they would part without causing a scene in the middle of a bookshop. Yet when Weasley stood up straight and crossed his arms in front of his chest, Draco realised it wasn't going to happen.

"This is a book about Dark Magic," he noted. "You're meddling with the Dark Arts again. Besides, this is a shop, not a library. If you want to read, you pay, you don't loiter in the back like someone who is up to no good."

Draco inhaled deeply and found that his breath came out shakily. If only he hadn't come here, then none of this would have happened. Weasley would have never spotted him and Draco could go back to living his life in peace. That was all he wanted, to be left alone because no matter how hard he tried, he could never shake his past. No matter what he did, Weasley and the rest of them would only ever see him as a Death Eater.

"Fine," he spat eventually. "Keep the book. It's useless to me anyway."

He wasn't sure what was happening, but the surprise encounter with Weasley had triggered something in him. Draco's hands were tingling horribly, the fight or flight impulse raging through his body at light speed, causing his heart to accelerate to the point that he found himself gasping for breath. He didn't want to fight, he needed to get out.

Draco tried to make his way past Ron, but the tall, young man stood in his path, stopping him with his wand pointed right at Draco's chest.

"What?" Weasley scoffed. "Can't find the forbidden spell you need? Has the Ministry taken away all your toys at last?"

"I'm not… I wasn't…" Draco attempted to say, attempted to defend himself, but his mind just wouldn't come up with the words that he needed to say. It was as if someone had sucked the air out of Flourish and Blotts, the heat rose to his head and the room around him began to spin. Draco couldn't breathe. He just needed to get out. When he finally found his voice again, he realised that he was shouting. "Just let me go, okay?!"

"Oh no!" Weasley retorted instantly and raised his wand a little higher. "You're coming with me. There's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it. I don't care what you're planning, but you're not getting away with it this time."

Draco felt the bookshelves closing in on him, the walls growing closer and closer and he tried his best to breathe, but no matter what he did, it seemed like the air just wouldn't reach his lungs. He didn't want to fight, but he didn't want to go to Azkaban either. He couldn't.

He fumbled around his cloak until he found the pocket and reached into it, pulling out his wand. Even as he aimed it at Ron, Draco knew that it was no use. The redhead appeared blurred and shaky in front of him and there was no way he could muster up the power to cast even the simplest spell. In his mind, he willed himself to focus on a simple word, willed himself to Stun his opponent, but it wouldn't work.

"Malfoy, what the hell is wrong with you?!" was the last thing he heard Weasley say before the spinning sensation tugged at his consciousness and the world went black. Draco closed his eyes and thought about Astoria and what she would think of him if she had seen him fail like that.

A sudden sense of cold and quietness came over him, but Draco didn't dare to open his eyes. He gasped for breath, but it wasn't enough. Knowing that he was at the end of his tether, Draco allowed his knees to give in and sank to the ground. To his surprise, he felt the strange softness of wet grass between his fingers and finally, he opened his eyes. The blurry outline of an old, unfamiliar cottage told him that the had escaped the bookshop after all. Wherever he was, he was safe.