A LIFE LIVED VICARIOUSLY

This story takes place some ten years after the events in the Deathly Hallows. It disregards, though not completely, the epilogue. It contains spoilers for all the seven books. It is rated M for some scenes of brutality and depravity. The characters are those created by J.K. Rowling, I have just imagined them forward in time and in different circumstances. This story is a tribute to the genius of Rowling, though I wish Deathly Hallows had turned out to be more satisfying. It is also in honour of all other fan-fiction writers whose off-shoots of the Potter legend are absolutely riveting.

Out of Azkaban.

1.1

"….You can consider yourself very lucky. The Minister is a kind man. Had I been heading the Ministry, I'd have made sure that you and your type stayed in Azkaban forever. Death Eaters and their spawns." She spat out viciously, her spittle falling on his face.

Draco remained impassive. Not even a flicker of an eyelid. Father had once taught him how to set one's face in stone. "Never reveal to the other person what you are feeling Draco. Let him be at a disadvantage." He hadn't been good at it, not like father. But he had learnt, and in later years he had become expert at it. His insides twitched to make a swipe at this woman who had the gall to say all this to him. This woman who in his fifth year had been falling all over herself in order to win his loyalties. Fifth year! What a long time ago all that was. Part of another life…a life that had come to an end with the end of that year…he felt his chest contract and was a little surprised. Thinking of those days, when everything had been perfect, usually did not make him ache. Perhaps now that he was about to leave this hateful place forever…

"Sign over here," Umbridge's voice broke through his thoughts.

He picked up the parchment and looked it over. Never sign anything before reading it. His father's instructions again. As he read over the form of his release he almost laughed at the absurdity of some of the clauses. Those who were being freed from Azkaban had to sign a form stating that the conditions over here had been beneficial to them in helping to start life anew. Beneficial! He glanced at his hand where the letter A had been branded in his skin forever. Yes prospective employers would look at that one letter and then fall head over heels in order to recruit him. Why the pretense? Why did these people pretend to be philanthropic, out to set right some misguided souls? The Light Side indeed!

"Sign! I do not have all the time in the world." How had he ever been able to bear this voice? At one time, he had been happy to hear this voice praise him. Had done things in order to make this woman happy. But then he had done so many things in order to please others, to earn their praise. He shook himself, picked up the quill and signed at the requisite place.

"Ah! Draco Malfoy. MALFOY!" Umbridge simpered as he handed her the form. "The great house of Malfoy. Pure-blood. And now the name is where? In the toilet. A toilet no less." She looked up at him, "You know what a toilet is don't you, Malfoy. A place where people pass shit and urine…"

"And where your mind and mouth is stuck." He spoke for the first time.

She flinched as though hit in the guts. "HOW DARE YOU?" She screamed, "You despicable, rotten, slimy…" Her hair flew in all direction and the spit flew from her mouth.

"Describing yourself," he spoke in his lazy drawl, one that he had learnt from his cradle as one of his eyebrows went up, an artistic gesture that he had picked up from a teacher much later.

"YOU ..YOU," She was sputtering now. All this would have been amusing but all he felt was a need to get away from this woman and this place.

"If you are quite done being coherent," he spoke in the same bored tone, an aristocrat talking to his minion, "I think I'll be on my way."

"Careful Malfoy," she had recovered somewhat, "I might just cancel your release."

"So do it. You think it makes an iota of difference to me."

Her eyes bulged. "You do not want to be free?"

"And be bereft of your charming company," he said in his most cultured voice. Oh yes he had learnt a lot from his father and Severus.

The woman glared at him and he flashed his most charming smile. The smile that he had perfected in the mirrors of the Manor. Immediately she appeared a little discomfited. "Er," she began, cleared her throat and began again trying to be official once again. "You know, you have to report to the ministry on the 15th of every month. You cannot leave the country and," her voice held so much malicious pleasure that it was almost obscene, "you cannot perform any magic." She was on surer ground now, "How does it feel for a pure-blood to be reduced to a squib?" When he did not reply, she cackled in glee. Draco felt an urge to swipe at her again and again crushed it. A few more minutes and he would be gone.

"If you try to procure a wand it will be considered a criminal offense." He nodded. Her eyes were glittering now. Oh yes she really did believe that she had subdued him. Little did she know about what father had done when the Dark Lord had taken away his wand. But he kept his eyes blank. All that occlumency that aunt Bella had taught him had always helped him.

"You can change into your robes and leave now. But remember we will be keeping an eye on you."

"I always knew you cared," he said again in those polished tones and again her composure disappeared.

Chuckling inside, he let the guard, whom she had summoned, lead him away. It was only when, he looked at his old robes that the guard held in front of him that the chuckle died away. "Change," the guard said gruffly throwing his robes in front of him. He hated it but his hands trembled just a little as he picked them up. He fingered the singed sleeve. The flames rose before his eyes. He closed them but he could feel the burning flames everywhere.

"Hurry up. I don't have all day."

For the first time that day, his composure came near to breaking as he slid out of the prison robes and pulled his own robes over him. Later sitting in the boat that was taking him away to the mainland he felt his thoughts tumbling all over the place. The chatter of the guards washed over him as he stared at the waves and tried hard not to think, not to remember, the flames still burning.

"Here take this," the captain of the guards was handing him an old shoe.

"What for?" He realized that the boat had reached the shore.

The captain moved towards him and swiped at his cheeks with the shoe. He flinched but held his ground. The man now caressed his cheeks and then pinched them. He looked on, his eyes expressing nothing. The man now entangled his fingers in his hair and pulled him towards him, his breath hot on his face. Draco spat.

"Still proud Malfoy," the captain wiped the spit from his face, shrugged and took a step back. "The shoe is a port-key and will be activated in a few minutes. It will take you wherever you want to go." With that, he was walking back to the boat.

He watched the boat as it made its way back and the shoe started vibrating in his palm. He closed his eyes and spoke or tried to speak because though his lips formed the words no sound came from his mouth. He gulped as the images crowded in his mind. He tried once again only to fail again. With rising panic (how long will the portkey remain active?) he said the words again. Homemalfoymanorwiltshire. All jumbled up but the portkey understood because he felt that that tell tale pressure near the navel and then he was being whisked away.

1.2

Or perhaps not. Because he was nowhere near the manor. In front of him were some huge buildings, one home over the other it seemed.

"Hey mister what do you want?"

He looked around to see a middle-aged man hurrying towards him. He wore muggle-clothes. "Yes what do you want?" He repeated as he neared Draco, his eyes traveling all over him. "What is this that you are wearing?" he asked pointing at his robes. A muggle definitely.

"I am looking for Malfoy Manor." Draco said, ignoring the question.

"There is no Malfoy manor in this vicinity.

"Isn't this Wiltshire?"

"It sure is but I have never seen a Malfoy manor round here though I have been living here for the past thirty years."

Draco cursed himself. He simply was not thinking straight. How could a muggle have seen the manor anyways? The manor must be somewhere nearby. After all the words had been jumbled together.

"And why are you carrying a shoe in your hand?" The man was peering at him suspiciously. "I have never seen you round here."

"I used to live here," he replied absently when suddenly his stomach dropped away.

"What what is that?" he said pointing towards a garden of white roses, not realizing that it was with the shoe that he pointed.

"A garden of white roses, what else?" The man's voice seemed genuinely surprised.

But Draco was bounding towards the garden. His mother's garden. There could be no doubt. There in the midst of it was the fountain. A small dragon spouting out water. He had ridden on this when young. My little dragon on a dragon. His father's voice again. He could not breathe. The shoe fell limply from his hand as he himself sank down on the ground.

"Mister are you alright?" The muggle had followed him.

"What's happening over here?" A new voice full of authority speaking over him now.

"My Laird," the first Muggle's voice, low and deferential. "He is searching for Malfoy manor."

"Malfoy manor? Are you sure?...But why is he sitting on the ground?"

"He saw this rose garden, came running over here and collapsed."

"Young man are you not feeling well?"

He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. How could he have missed it? He closed his eyes and then opened them slowly wishing it to be not there. But it was there swaying in front of him. His faraway tree and there he was along with Vince and Greg climbing on the tree, determined to swing on the rainbow stretched over the tree, waiting for him…there was no rainbow there today.

The muggles were still talking, perhaps questioning him but their voices seemed to come from a distance. Slowly he raised his eyes to look at where his home used to be….But then other thoughts came to his mind and he needed answers to his questions quick.

"There used to be a manor here." He waved his hand towards the row of muggle houses.

The two men standing in front of him looked at each other then at him before saying No.

Then the second person, the one who had been addressed as Laird by the other one began to speak: "There was nothing over here, just plain ground when these buildings were being constructed."

"When did these buildings come up?"

"Some nine to ten years back."

Nine to ten years. Yes the Ministry had taken its revenge, the manor must have been razed to the ground. It all seemed to make sense now.

"There was..there was a cemetery and a vault over here," he gestured.

"Vault, cemetery," the muggles' voices were full of surprise. "You mean graves and all…?"

"No I mean playground for children you morons."

"This is totally improper. This is no way to talk." There was indignation in their voices now.

"Then how do you want me to talk? I ask a simple question in a language which even muggles can understand and you…

"Muggles? What's that?"

"Just answer my question, okay. Was there a cemetery over here or not and a vault?"

"No."

"No?"

"No cemetery, no vault, no manor."

"But how can this be?"

"Perhaps you are at the wrong place."

"No this is the land of the Malfoys."

"Malfoys. Never heard of them."

"How could you have?" He heard himself screech. "You despicable muggle how could you have heard of the Malfoys. You are not fit to lick their shoes…"

"That's quite enough. We have tolerated your insolence but not any longer. If you do not leave this place we will be forced to call the police."

"Police? What's that?"

"That's enough!"

"My laird, I do believe this fellow is not in his right senses. Look at the clothes that he is wearing and then he talks gibberish…"

As the muggles muttered amongst themselves, Draco looked at what was his home. The Malfoys had lived for centuries in the manor and it now it was a muggle neighbourhood. Yes, he could see them now, moving about…children and adults. If he looked at them for a moment more, he would start raving like a lunatic. No, he had to get away. Abruptly, he stood up and started to walk away not bothering about the two muggles staring at him, perhaps calling out to him….

1.3

He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, looking and yet not looking at his own reflection in the water. His hidden pool. He remembered the day well when he had discovered this pool amongst the rocks and the brambles…and then father had charmed it so that it remained hidden from the eyes of the muggles. His own private sanctuary…

Not any longer though. He could hear voices, excited chatter of children, a group of children came traipsing down. Then things happened so fast that there was no time for reflection, only action. One of the children lost his footing and came tumbling down the small hillock. The other children screamed. With a loud splash, the child went straight down in the pond. Draco jumped right after him, his eyes scanning the water. Then he saw him, a small figure lying on the bottom of the pond. He swam over to his side and tried to scoop him up. However one arm of the child had become wedged tightly in some undergrowth. Gasping for air, Draco tried to pull the arm out. His lungs seemed ready to explode by the time he had the child in his arms. Wasting not a second more, he broke for the surface. Once on land, he looked at the child closely. There was no sign of breathing. The boy was still. There was a deep gash on his forehead, perhaps he had hit a rock while spiraling down. Draco pressed his chest and felt something more than water seep from the clothes. He pressed again, stronger this time. No response. And then Draco panicked. Without being aware of what he was doing, he started moving his hands all over the child's body, chanting the mantra all the time, all his concentration pinpointed on the small, still body underneath his hands. Finally, he could feel the chest moving underneath him and then the boy was trying to sit up… "Mamma," the young fellow cried and Draco sat back, suddenly drained of all his energy. A figure ran past him to hug the boy and there was chatter and talk all around him. He had not been aware of anything: the hysterical cries of the other children when he had brought the young man out of water, the pop of apparition as suddenly four adults apparated near him, the hysterical explanations of the other children…nothing. But now as he shifted back on the ground, he was aware of someone standing near him and then a hand was placed on his shoulder. Draco looked up slowly. A face came into focus. A man with glasses and some sort of mark on his forehead. He had seen this face somewhere….somewhere in the past. For a minute everything round him became shrouded in silence. Total, complete silence.

"Potter."

A/N: Well what do you think of this? Do send you comments, suggestions etc. It will be greatly appreciated. Reviews are tonic for a writer.

Though I am writing another story: It Is Magic After All, this story just wormed its way into my system and would not let go. I hope to write the two stories simultaneously.