Title: Like A Fairytale
Author: Stardrops
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG 13: Some violence and slash, precautions only.
Summary: Faced with difficult decisions about his future, Draco forms some unlikely friendships. A passionate romance is sparked – but is not as secret as he supposed. Someone is stalking Draco at Hogwarts – suddenly, keeping himself and Harry safe is more complicated than he imagined.
Chapter One: Thrown Out On The Streets
Black clouds swirled and churned ominously. Forks of lightning kept streaking across the sky, lighting up the darkened outdoors and illuminating the oncoming storm.
Draco shivered as he looked out the window. The only other light in the room apart from the lightning was the fire, flames crackling merrily and reaching as high as possible up the chimney.
He was in the Malfoy Manor, up in his father's study. It was a room rarely used, in summer it was too hot to work in and in winter far too cold. But tonight was an exception. Considering it was late autumn, the room was unusually cold and dark. Echoes of the thunder would resound in the roof above him and the gales of wind reverberated in the chimney, giving the room an eerie feel as though it were haunted.
Draco could hear footsteps coming towards him and a pit opened in his stomach. He knew what was coming. His father had been making hints about it all summer – he was surprised it had taken so long for his father to come to him to properly discuss it.
The door creaked open and Lucius Malfoy entered. He gave the boy the special smile he reserved just for his son, whom he loved very much.
Gesturing to the armchair that was in front of the desk, Lucius sat in his own chair, behind the desk. In pride of place, where he always loved to be. He entwined his fingers and rested his chin on his hands, resting his elbows on the desk. Draco eased himself into the armchair opposite his father and waited nervously.
"So, my son, you shall be in your last year at Hogwarts." Lucius stopped to smile. Draco did not say anything. He knew something much bigger was coming, because his father would not ask him to the study simply to remind him that he was going to be in seventh year this term.
"Are you excited?" Lucius asked in a fatherly tone. Draco shrugged.
"It'll be like everything else really, I'm not even Head Boy, so there isn't any more responsibility." He dared not to glance up; he knew his father was not pleased with the fact that Draco had not achieved the place of Head Boy. "I am sorry for not earning it, father."
Lucius smiled. This was going perfectly. "Well, son, you've done well in everything else, so we needn't worry about this trivial matter."
Draco's head snapped up. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. The corners of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of as smile and he said in slight disbelief, "Really?"
Lucius nodded. "You don't need to be Head Boy to get responsibility. Being a Malfoy has its own responsibilities. I'd much rather you were holding up the name of Malfoy than worrying about getting first years to class." He stopped for a moment and surveyed his beaming son. "But I must remind you of what it means to be a Malfoy."
Draco stifled a yawn. He'd heard this lecture a million times before, and wasn't really in the mood to hear it again. However, just like every other time, he would sit through it and not anger his father again. He hated to disappoint the person he looked up to more than anything else in the world.
"You've been born into one of the most highly respected families of our time. We are purebloods. Therefore, we do not cavort with Mudbloods or Muggles. We are above all of that." He got out of his chair to pace across the room as he lectured his son. "We are some of the richest, most highly paid wizards in the wizarding world, and we have a high reputation to uphold." He swung to face his son. "We do not let anything get in the way of our true purpose," he said softly. "Malfoys have always been firm supporters of Voldemort and all Voldemort's ways. We look to you to continue this tradition."
Draco felt his insides turn cold. He knew this was what his father had really wanted to speak to him about. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it as his father continued, fearing to interrupt.
"In April, you will be turning eighteen. On your eighteenth, you will be legally an adult." Lucius bent down to kneel beside his sons chair, not noticing the fleeting look of panic that crossed his son's face before the usual blank expression took its place. "You will be given the highest honour a Malfoy – or any pureblood wizard – could ask for," he whispered, a glint in his eye. "Lord Voldemort himself will be here, in the Malfoy Manor, to brand you as a Death Eater."
Draco's insides now resembled ice. He struggled to keep his face passive as his father got inwardly obviously more and more excited about the upcoming event.
"Imagine, Draco," Lucius said softly. "You will be accepted into the Death Eaters. Only the best get that privilege. Hundreds of followers beg to be enlisted, but you have been selected. As a Malfoy. You will be joining your father. Together, we shall be the most valuable followers Lord Voldemort's armies have ever had." He tilted his son's face to look at him, frowning at his son's lack of eagerness. "Does that not enthuse you?"
Draco's stomach was filled with butterflies made completely of ice. He knew he was going to have to tell him father the truth, but the likelihood of his father taking it well was remote.
"Father........." he began, but Lucius interrupted him.
"I know you're probably nervous. We all were when we were initiated! But all you have to do is pledge eternal faith to our lord. The one who will reward us for our service." Lucius's eyes were alive and ecstatic. Draco found it hard to have to crush his father's enthusiasm.
"Don't I have a choice?" he asked so quietly that Lucius had to strain to hear the question. It took his father aback.
"Of course you have a choice, son, the Dark Lord cannot brand you unless you have pledged yourself honestly in his faith." Lucius stopped for a minute. His eyes narrowed as he started to catch on to what his son was implying. "Which you do – don't you?"
Draco cringed. There was a note of suppressed rage in his father's voice and he knew that this was going to be harder to break that he'd initially imagined.
"Well, I-I just don't think I'll be ready to pledge myself to a life in the Dark Force at seventeen – can't I be marked when I'm older?" Draco looked at his father pleadingly, but Lucius's face was as black as the stormy afternoon sky.
Lucius stood to his full height and towered over his now trembling son. "You do not want to follow in my lead?" he said incredulously. "You are not sure that you want to be in the service of the greatest wizard who has ever lived?"
"No! I mean yes! I mean – I only mean that I need more time to – well – I don't want to spend the rest of my life living a mistake!" This was easily one of the stupidest things Draco had ever said. It only infuriated Lucius more.
"Are you implying that I made a mistake? That following Voldemort is not the path you and I should be taking?"
Draco shook his head violently. "No father, I am not implying anything like that! I'm sure that this was the right path for you, but I'm just – I don't think this is the right thing for me yet."
Lucius glared at his son. "And why do you think it is not right for you?"
Draco stared at the ground. "I don't want to be a murderer at the age of seventeen. I don't think it's right," he answered softly.
Lucius laughed derisively. "Draco, being a Malfoy means we have duties. Duties to purge the world of those who do not deserve to live!"
Draco began to feel a little angry now. "And who can decide who gets to live and who doesn't?"
"Those who are born with pure blood deserve life, those who have dirty blood are undeserving!"
Draco exhaled in disbelief. "So you kill someone because they were born to people who were half-blood or wizards and witches who were born to Muggle parents?"
"Lord Voldemort is purging the world of polluted blood, and we help!"
"Why?" asked Draco angrily.
"Because of who we are! We pledged our family to Voldemort and therefore we help him with his duties!"
"So you pledged your family with no regard for what they might want?" Draco asked.
"You are a Malfoy! Every Malfoy has honoured our name and you will not be an exception!"
"Then maybe I don't want to be a Malfoy!" Draco yelled fiercely. His father stopped suddenly and Draco wished immediately he'd not said that. When his father was angry, it was bad enough, but this was past fury. His father's face was no longer black with anger, but very pale.
"You don't want to be a Malfoy?" his father inquired coldly. "Fine. Leave."
Draco sat open-mouthed. "What?"
"You heard me! I told you to get out!" Lucius yelled. His son humiliating him in such a manner was enough for him. A Malfoy refusing to follow the Dark Side was like Harry Potter betraying Dumbledore – completely unexpected.
Draco's mother, Narcissa, appeared in the doorway. "What is going on?" she asked, astonished to see her husband looking so furious and her son looking so shocked and frightened.
Draco moved to speak but Lucius silenced him with one venomous glare. "From this day forward, you and I have no son."
Narcissa's eyes widened. "You're disowning the only Malfoy heir?" She turned to her son in shock. "Why?"
"He refuses to join with Voldemort. He dishonours the family name. He is no son of mine." Lucius said all this with his teeth gritted, as though daring his wife to protest.
Narcissa took one step towards her son, meaning to hug him, but was stopped by the cold fury radiating from Lucius. Draco looked up as his father pulled him roughly from the chair.
"Get your things. Leave my house."
Narcissa began to plead with Lucius. "He's only sixteen, he probably said some things he didn't mean, but that's no reason to throw him out!"
Lucius silenced her with a glare. He followed his son down to Draco's room and watched him woodenly gather some of his more precious belongings. He'd have to leave a lot behind.
Once he'd gotten his school stuff, clothes, books and treasures together, his father shoved him violently down the stairs and into the kitchen where the door was flung open. Draco took a last pleading look at his mother who again tried to reason with Lucius, but nothing would change his mind. He nodded pointedly toward the door, but before Draco could walk out, he said, "This is what will happen if you still refuse to join the Death Eaters. You will leave your mother and I if you cannot join our beliefs. Are you resolute in your refusal?"
Draco shook his head. "No. Who said anything about being resolute? I told you I just wasn't sure if seventeen was the right time for me to join."
Lucius brushed this aside. "So if Voldemort came, would you pledge yourself to him? Or would you rather leave this house, your fortune, and your honour – all because you are too afraid to do the wrong thing with your life?"
Draco was silent.
"Speak!" his father yelled.
He opened his mouth, closed it and then spoke. "I cannot pledge myself unless I'm sure. I'm sorry to have disappointed you both."
He turned and left the house. Walking down the pathway leading to the gate, he could hear his mother's hysterical sobbing issuing from the still-open door. He shut the gate behind him – would this be the last time he ever came here?
He couldn't believe what he was doing. What had happened to him over the summer? Before, he'd been only too happy to join the Death Eaters. He'd never really questioned whether or not it was the right choice for him. All he knew was that his future had been planned out for him.
But over the summer, something had changed for him. He didn't understand why, but suddenly, he no longer wanted that life. He didn't want what his father had. He wouldn't want to live his life killing innocent people because of who they were, not because they'd done something.
He mentally slapped himself. "Good grief, Malfoy, you've gone soft," he told himself. He'd given up his family, fortune, home – now he had nowhere to go. What was he going to do? School went back in a few days, he had no money, no way to get there. He had a broom, but with the weight of his two suitcases, he would not be able to get off the ground.
With a heavy heart, he set off towards the end of the street. If he tried hard enough, maybe he'd find a wizarding place – or even just another wizard.
His suitcases were heavy. They were filled with books, all the books he'd bought for school the past six years. His heart sank as he realized he needed new ones and had no money for any of this years school requirements.
He wondered if the Knight Bus would come to him if he signaled – he didn't have any money to pay for a ticket, but it was worth a try at least. He flung his arm out. Nothing happened. He laughed to himself. He was totally screwed.
Then he jumped back as a huge bus came rumbling towards him. His heart leaped – it was the Knight Bus! The doors were flung open beside him and the conductor hopped out to speak with him.
"You wan' a ride?" he asked – it sounded like he'd been drinking.
Draco nodded.
"Get on en. We don' have all day," he slurred. Draco realized that he had to get on before they sobered up and realized he hadn't any money to pay them with.
There was no one else on the bus. Draco sat alone while the conductor drank more shots out of a bottle with a white label on it. The writing on the label had been rubbed off.
"So where you goin'?" asked the conductor.
Draco racked his brains. "Errr........." He looked out the window. There was nothing he recognized in the scenery.
"Oy! Hold on! I need some money from you," he said with a sudden moment of clarity.
"Um – well, I don't actually have any," Draco said, wondering if they'd kick him off the bus.
They did.
"Shit. I'm screwed," Draco muttered in despair as he watched the bus shoot off down the road without him. He looked all around. There was only trees and bush land. He was clearly somewhere between towns, and he wasn't thrilled at the prospect. How long would it take to find somewhere he could get help? Either way, he had to get moving.
He walked and walked for hours. He'd forgotten to pack food, and his stomach was soon growling loudly. After four hours of straight walking, he sank onto a mossy patch on the side of the road – hidden by the trees, so anyone walking or driving wouldn't be able to steal his bags. Using his jacket as a blanket, he shivered in the unusually brisk autumn air and covered himself with leaves, hoping to insulate his body heat. He fell asleep almost instantly.
Two days later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were strolling along the road to Grimmauld Place. They'd been sent out to get some fresh air, having been cooped up for weeks. They'd decided to go to a Muggle shop and get some racing magazines for Ron – who'd developed a love of car racing. They'd bought three and were on their way home.
Halfway down the road, Harry stopped walking. "Oh, crap." he exclaimed. "I forgot to buy Tonks's gum. Bugger!" Tonks, it turns out, had a taste for chewing gum, and had asked Harry to buy some Muggle flavours for her. Harry fished in his pockets, hoping to find some of his own, but no luck.
"I'd better go back. Will you tell them I've just gone back for something?" he asked Ron. Ron nodded.
"You want us to come?" Hermione offered.
"Nah, you guys head back. Just be waiting out the front to let me back in!"
He watched them head off together before walking quickly back towards the shop. It was a good ten minutes away, and it took him a while to find all the different flavours he knew Tonks liked.
When he'd bought them and stored them safely in his pockets, he began back in the other direction. After a few minutes of very fast walking, something in the bushes beside the road caught his eye.
He looked around cautiously before taking a few steps closer to see what it was. As he neared, he realized it was a person, lying beside the road covered in dirt and dust. He knelt beside the limp figure and tried to gently turn it over. He gasped.
It was Draco Malfoy. Draco, the Prince of Slytherin, was lying filthy in a gutter. And, Harry noticed, with two large suitcases. He was completely and utterly confused.
Looking back to Draco, he saw that the boy was not asleep, as he'd previously thought, but rather was unconscious. He searched for a pulse and found one, much to his relief.
The only problem now was – how was Harry going to get a boy who was larger than him plus two suitcases back to Grimmauld Place all by himself? He tried cautiously to lift the older boy, and surprisingly, he wasn't very heavy. In fact, Draco was astonishingly thin, like he'd not eaten very much for a few days.
Harry left the suitcases on the side of the road and staggered with Draco in his arms down the road for another three or four minutes. Hermione was sitting on the pavement where the house should be, and she was holding the slip of paper they all used when they wanted to get in or out.
When she saw Harry carrying a body, she covered her mouth with her hands and then ran to help. They set him down on the doorstep and Hermione lifted him slightly.
"Oh my god!" she said softly. "It's Malfoy!"
Harry nodded.
"But – what is Malfoy doing here? He lives ages away, doesn't he?"
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. But he had some suitcases with him, should we go get them?"
"No, we should stay with him in case he wakes up. At least he knows us."
"Right."
Just then, the door opened and Molly Weasley came out.
"About time, too, we were all starting to worry," she started, but stopped at the sight of Hermione holding up and unconscious Draco Malfoy.
"Oh lord," was all Mrs Weasley offered before switching into mother mode, taking him in her arms and lying him down carefully in one of the bedrooms. Meanwhile, Tonks and Moody went to fetch the suitcases.
Hermione, Ron and Harry stayed with him all afternoon, carefully bathing the scratches and cleaning the exposed skin as best they could. He hadn't woken by dinnertime, so Ron and Hermione went down to dinner while Harry stayed with him.
As Harry brushed the sandy blonde hair back out of Draco's face, he couldn't help but wonder why the rich, spoiled Slytherin was alone, unconscious and hours away from where he apparently lived.
This was all very, very weird.
TBC
A/N: So. Now he's been thrown out and has no money. Poor Draco. Anyway, if you want to see what happens next, you have to review. Please? (
Author: Stardrops
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG 13: Some violence and slash, precautions only.
Summary: Faced with difficult decisions about his future, Draco forms some unlikely friendships. A passionate romance is sparked – but is not as secret as he supposed. Someone is stalking Draco at Hogwarts – suddenly, keeping himself and Harry safe is more complicated than he imagined.
Chapter One: Thrown Out On The Streets
Black clouds swirled and churned ominously. Forks of lightning kept streaking across the sky, lighting up the darkened outdoors and illuminating the oncoming storm.
Draco shivered as he looked out the window. The only other light in the room apart from the lightning was the fire, flames crackling merrily and reaching as high as possible up the chimney.
He was in the Malfoy Manor, up in his father's study. It was a room rarely used, in summer it was too hot to work in and in winter far too cold. But tonight was an exception. Considering it was late autumn, the room was unusually cold and dark. Echoes of the thunder would resound in the roof above him and the gales of wind reverberated in the chimney, giving the room an eerie feel as though it were haunted.
Draco could hear footsteps coming towards him and a pit opened in his stomach. He knew what was coming. His father had been making hints about it all summer – he was surprised it had taken so long for his father to come to him to properly discuss it.
The door creaked open and Lucius Malfoy entered. He gave the boy the special smile he reserved just for his son, whom he loved very much.
Gesturing to the armchair that was in front of the desk, Lucius sat in his own chair, behind the desk. In pride of place, where he always loved to be. He entwined his fingers and rested his chin on his hands, resting his elbows on the desk. Draco eased himself into the armchair opposite his father and waited nervously.
"So, my son, you shall be in your last year at Hogwarts." Lucius stopped to smile. Draco did not say anything. He knew something much bigger was coming, because his father would not ask him to the study simply to remind him that he was going to be in seventh year this term.
"Are you excited?" Lucius asked in a fatherly tone. Draco shrugged.
"It'll be like everything else really, I'm not even Head Boy, so there isn't any more responsibility." He dared not to glance up; he knew his father was not pleased with the fact that Draco had not achieved the place of Head Boy. "I am sorry for not earning it, father."
Lucius smiled. This was going perfectly. "Well, son, you've done well in everything else, so we needn't worry about this trivial matter."
Draco's head snapped up. He couldn't believe he was hearing this. The corners of his mouth twitched in the beginnings of as smile and he said in slight disbelief, "Really?"
Lucius nodded. "You don't need to be Head Boy to get responsibility. Being a Malfoy has its own responsibilities. I'd much rather you were holding up the name of Malfoy than worrying about getting first years to class." He stopped for a moment and surveyed his beaming son. "But I must remind you of what it means to be a Malfoy."
Draco stifled a yawn. He'd heard this lecture a million times before, and wasn't really in the mood to hear it again. However, just like every other time, he would sit through it and not anger his father again. He hated to disappoint the person he looked up to more than anything else in the world.
"You've been born into one of the most highly respected families of our time. We are purebloods. Therefore, we do not cavort with Mudbloods or Muggles. We are above all of that." He got out of his chair to pace across the room as he lectured his son. "We are some of the richest, most highly paid wizards in the wizarding world, and we have a high reputation to uphold." He swung to face his son. "We do not let anything get in the way of our true purpose," he said softly. "Malfoys have always been firm supporters of Voldemort and all Voldemort's ways. We look to you to continue this tradition."
Draco felt his insides turn cold. He knew this was what his father had really wanted to speak to him about. He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it as his father continued, fearing to interrupt.
"In April, you will be turning eighteen. On your eighteenth, you will be legally an adult." Lucius bent down to kneel beside his sons chair, not noticing the fleeting look of panic that crossed his son's face before the usual blank expression took its place. "You will be given the highest honour a Malfoy – or any pureblood wizard – could ask for," he whispered, a glint in his eye. "Lord Voldemort himself will be here, in the Malfoy Manor, to brand you as a Death Eater."
Draco's insides now resembled ice. He struggled to keep his face passive as his father got inwardly obviously more and more excited about the upcoming event.
"Imagine, Draco," Lucius said softly. "You will be accepted into the Death Eaters. Only the best get that privilege. Hundreds of followers beg to be enlisted, but you have been selected. As a Malfoy. You will be joining your father. Together, we shall be the most valuable followers Lord Voldemort's armies have ever had." He tilted his son's face to look at him, frowning at his son's lack of eagerness. "Does that not enthuse you?"
Draco's stomach was filled with butterflies made completely of ice. He knew he was going to have to tell him father the truth, but the likelihood of his father taking it well was remote.
"Father........." he began, but Lucius interrupted him.
"I know you're probably nervous. We all were when we were initiated! But all you have to do is pledge eternal faith to our lord. The one who will reward us for our service." Lucius's eyes were alive and ecstatic. Draco found it hard to have to crush his father's enthusiasm.
"Don't I have a choice?" he asked so quietly that Lucius had to strain to hear the question. It took his father aback.
"Of course you have a choice, son, the Dark Lord cannot brand you unless you have pledged yourself honestly in his faith." Lucius stopped for a minute. His eyes narrowed as he started to catch on to what his son was implying. "Which you do – don't you?"
Draco cringed. There was a note of suppressed rage in his father's voice and he knew that this was going to be harder to break that he'd initially imagined.
"Well, I-I just don't think I'll be ready to pledge myself to a life in the Dark Force at seventeen – can't I be marked when I'm older?" Draco looked at his father pleadingly, but Lucius's face was as black as the stormy afternoon sky.
Lucius stood to his full height and towered over his now trembling son. "You do not want to follow in my lead?" he said incredulously. "You are not sure that you want to be in the service of the greatest wizard who has ever lived?"
"No! I mean yes! I mean – I only mean that I need more time to – well – I don't want to spend the rest of my life living a mistake!" This was easily one of the stupidest things Draco had ever said. It only infuriated Lucius more.
"Are you implying that I made a mistake? That following Voldemort is not the path you and I should be taking?"
Draco shook his head violently. "No father, I am not implying anything like that! I'm sure that this was the right path for you, but I'm just – I don't think this is the right thing for me yet."
Lucius glared at his son. "And why do you think it is not right for you?"
Draco stared at the ground. "I don't want to be a murderer at the age of seventeen. I don't think it's right," he answered softly.
Lucius laughed derisively. "Draco, being a Malfoy means we have duties. Duties to purge the world of those who do not deserve to live!"
Draco began to feel a little angry now. "And who can decide who gets to live and who doesn't?"
"Those who are born with pure blood deserve life, those who have dirty blood are undeserving!"
Draco exhaled in disbelief. "So you kill someone because they were born to people who were half-blood or wizards and witches who were born to Muggle parents?"
"Lord Voldemort is purging the world of polluted blood, and we help!"
"Why?" asked Draco angrily.
"Because of who we are! We pledged our family to Voldemort and therefore we help him with his duties!"
"So you pledged your family with no regard for what they might want?" Draco asked.
"You are a Malfoy! Every Malfoy has honoured our name and you will not be an exception!"
"Then maybe I don't want to be a Malfoy!" Draco yelled fiercely. His father stopped suddenly and Draco wished immediately he'd not said that. When his father was angry, it was bad enough, but this was past fury. His father's face was no longer black with anger, but very pale.
"You don't want to be a Malfoy?" his father inquired coldly. "Fine. Leave."
Draco sat open-mouthed. "What?"
"You heard me! I told you to get out!" Lucius yelled. His son humiliating him in such a manner was enough for him. A Malfoy refusing to follow the Dark Side was like Harry Potter betraying Dumbledore – completely unexpected.
Draco's mother, Narcissa, appeared in the doorway. "What is going on?" she asked, astonished to see her husband looking so furious and her son looking so shocked and frightened.
Draco moved to speak but Lucius silenced him with one venomous glare. "From this day forward, you and I have no son."
Narcissa's eyes widened. "You're disowning the only Malfoy heir?" She turned to her son in shock. "Why?"
"He refuses to join with Voldemort. He dishonours the family name. He is no son of mine." Lucius said all this with his teeth gritted, as though daring his wife to protest.
Narcissa took one step towards her son, meaning to hug him, but was stopped by the cold fury radiating from Lucius. Draco looked up as his father pulled him roughly from the chair.
"Get your things. Leave my house."
Narcissa began to plead with Lucius. "He's only sixteen, he probably said some things he didn't mean, but that's no reason to throw him out!"
Lucius silenced her with a glare. He followed his son down to Draco's room and watched him woodenly gather some of his more precious belongings. He'd have to leave a lot behind.
Once he'd gotten his school stuff, clothes, books and treasures together, his father shoved him violently down the stairs and into the kitchen where the door was flung open. Draco took a last pleading look at his mother who again tried to reason with Lucius, but nothing would change his mind. He nodded pointedly toward the door, but before Draco could walk out, he said, "This is what will happen if you still refuse to join the Death Eaters. You will leave your mother and I if you cannot join our beliefs. Are you resolute in your refusal?"
Draco shook his head. "No. Who said anything about being resolute? I told you I just wasn't sure if seventeen was the right time for me to join."
Lucius brushed this aside. "So if Voldemort came, would you pledge yourself to him? Or would you rather leave this house, your fortune, and your honour – all because you are too afraid to do the wrong thing with your life?"
Draco was silent.
"Speak!" his father yelled.
He opened his mouth, closed it and then spoke. "I cannot pledge myself unless I'm sure. I'm sorry to have disappointed you both."
He turned and left the house. Walking down the pathway leading to the gate, he could hear his mother's hysterical sobbing issuing from the still-open door. He shut the gate behind him – would this be the last time he ever came here?
He couldn't believe what he was doing. What had happened to him over the summer? Before, he'd been only too happy to join the Death Eaters. He'd never really questioned whether or not it was the right choice for him. All he knew was that his future had been planned out for him.
But over the summer, something had changed for him. He didn't understand why, but suddenly, he no longer wanted that life. He didn't want what his father had. He wouldn't want to live his life killing innocent people because of who they were, not because they'd done something.
He mentally slapped himself. "Good grief, Malfoy, you've gone soft," he told himself. He'd given up his family, fortune, home – now he had nowhere to go. What was he going to do? School went back in a few days, he had no money, no way to get there. He had a broom, but with the weight of his two suitcases, he would not be able to get off the ground.
With a heavy heart, he set off towards the end of the street. If he tried hard enough, maybe he'd find a wizarding place – or even just another wizard.
His suitcases were heavy. They were filled with books, all the books he'd bought for school the past six years. His heart sank as he realized he needed new ones and had no money for any of this years school requirements.
He wondered if the Knight Bus would come to him if he signaled – he didn't have any money to pay for a ticket, but it was worth a try at least. He flung his arm out. Nothing happened. He laughed to himself. He was totally screwed.
Then he jumped back as a huge bus came rumbling towards him. His heart leaped – it was the Knight Bus! The doors were flung open beside him and the conductor hopped out to speak with him.
"You wan' a ride?" he asked – it sounded like he'd been drinking.
Draco nodded.
"Get on en. We don' have all day," he slurred. Draco realized that he had to get on before they sobered up and realized he hadn't any money to pay them with.
There was no one else on the bus. Draco sat alone while the conductor drank more shots out of a bottle with a white label on it. The writing on the label had been rubbed off.
"So where you goin'?" asked the conductor.
Draco racked his brains. "Errr........." He looked out the window. There was nothing he recognized in the scenery.
"Oy! Hold on! I need some money from you," he said with a sudden moment of clarity.
"Um – well, I don't actually have any," Draco said, wondering if they'd kick him off the bus.
They did.
"Shit. I'm screwed," Draco muttered in despair as he watched the bus shoot off down the road without him. He looked all around. There was only trees and bush land. He was clearly somewhere between towns, and he wasn't thrilled at the prospect. How long would it take to find somewhere he could get help? Either way, he had to get moving.
He walked and walked for hours. He'd forgotten to pack food, and his stomach was soon growling loudly. After four hours of straight walking, he sank onto a mossy patch on the side of the road – hidden by the trees, so anyone walking or driving wouldn't be able to steal his bags. Using his jacket as a blanket, he shivered in the unusually brisk autumn air and covered himself with leaves, hoping to insulate his body heat. He fell asleep almost instantly.
Two days later, Harry, Ron and Hermione were strolling along the road to Grimmauld Place. They'd been sent out to get some fresh air, having been cooped up for weeks. They'd decided to go to a Muggle shop and get some racing magazines for Ron – who'd developed a love of car racing. They'd bought three and were on their way home.
Halfway down the road, Harry stopped walking. "Oh, crap." he exclaimed. "I forgot to buy Tonks's gum. Bugger!" Tonks, it turns out, had a taste for chewing gum, and had asked Harry to buy some Muggle flavours for her. Harry fished in his pockets, hoping to find some of his own, but no luck.
"I'd better go back. Will you tell them I've just gone back for something?" he asked Ron. Ron nodded.
"You want us to come?" Hermione offered.
"Nah, you guys head back. Just be waiting out the front to let me back in!"
He watched them head off together before walking quickly back towards the shop. It was a good ten minutes away, and it took him a while to find all the different flavours he knew Tonks liked.
When he'd bought them and stored them safely in his pockets, he began back in the other direction. After a few minutes of very fast walking, something in the bushes beside the road caught his eye.
He looked around cautiously before taking a few steps closer to see what it was. As he neared, he realized it was a person, lying beside the road covered in dirt and dust. He knelt beside the limp figure and tried to gently turn it over. He gasped.
It was Draco Malfoy. Draco, the Prince of Slytherin, was lying filthy in a gutter. And, Harry noticed, with two large suitcases. He was completely and utterly confused.
Looking back to Draco, he saw that the boy was not asleep, as he'd previously thought, but rather was unconscious. He searched for a pulse and found one, much to his relief.
The only problem now was – how was Harry going to get a boy who was larger than him plus two suitcases back to Grimmauld Place all by himself? He tried cautiously to lift the older boy, and surprisingly, he wasn't very heavy. In fact, Draco was astonishingly thin, like he'd not eaten very much for a few days.
Harry left the suitcases on the side of the road and staggered with Draco in his arms down the road for another three or four minutes. Hermione was sitting on the pavement where the house should be, and she was holding the slip of paper they all used when they wanted to get in or out.
When she saw Harry carrying a body, she covered her mouth with her hands and then ran to help. They set him down on the doorstep and Hermione lifted him slightly.
"Oh my god!" she said softly. "It's Malfoy!"
Harry nodded.
"But – what is Malfoy doing here? He lives ages away, doesn't he?"
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. But he had some suitcases with him, should we go get them?"
"No, we should stay with him in case he wakes up. At least he knows us."
"Right."
Just then, the door opened and Molly Weasley came out.
"About time, too, we were all starting to worry," she started, but stopped at the sight of Hermione holding up and unconscious Draco Malfoy.
"Oh lord," was all Mrs Weasley offered before switching into mother mode, taking him in her arms and lying him down carefully in one of the bedrooms. Meanwhile, Tonks and Moody went to fetch the suitcases.
Hermione, Ron and Harry stayed with him all afternoon, carefully bathing the scratches and cleaning the exposed skin as best they could. He hadn't woken by dinnertime, so Ron and Hermione went down to dinner while Harry stayed with him.
As Harry brushed the sandy blonde hair back out of Draco's face, he couldn't help but wonder why the rich, spoiled Slytherin was alone, unconscious and hours away from where he apparently lived.
This was all very, very weird.
TBC
A/N: So. Now he's been thrown out and has no money. Poor Draco. Anyway, if you want to see what happens next, you have to review. Please? (
