Constance Malfoy: Glad you like it so far!
Lost Flame: Glad you liked it! Hope this chapter answers your question.
Anon: Yah I know, (sigh) but I wanted to make it climatic enough for what's to come.
Sailorbaby16: Once again, hope this chapter answers your question, and the Dursleys will get their punishment later on.
Nathan's Girl: Thanx, glad you liked it!
CrazyForYou: Glad you liked it and hope you enjoy this chapter as well.
Chapter Two – A Shooting Star
Draco slowly opened his eyes and starred up at the ceiling. He let out a long groggy yawn and pulled himself out of bed. It was quite early, around six am, and the sun was just beginning to sneak its way through Draco's window and light up the dreary looking room.
The entire room was adorned with dark greens and silvers and the floor was composed of hard cold stone. Large serpent carved statues stood on either side of the door, beside each corner of his four-poster bed, and upon every dresser and nightstand in the room. To anyone else the room may have seemed slightly intimidating, but Draco on the other hand, thought it was quite cozy.
Draco slowly made his way to the bathroom and there undressed: tossing his clothes carelessly on the floor for the house-elves to take care of later. He stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water: flinching slightly as the first few sprinkles of water hit him, but in moments he was comfortably used to the hot spray. He let the water soak over him: plastering his hair to the nape of his neck and wandering in rivulets down his smooth pale skin.
A loud cracking pop just outside of the shower signaled the arrival of one of the house-elves to pick up his dirty laundry.
"After you pick up my laundry, lay out a pair of my green robes", Draco drawled to the house-elf.
"Of course Mister Malfoy sir, right away sir, but the real reason Tippy is here, sir, is to deliver a message from Master Malfoy, sir." At this, Draco began to pay a bit more attention. His father would never send him a message unless it was important. And as rarely as that happened, it was almost never a good thing. "Sir, Master Malfoy requests that Mister Malfoy meet him in the dinning hall for breakfast at seven am sharp, sir." There was a brief silence before Tippy continued, "Is there a message that Mister Malfoy, sir, would like Tippy to deliver to Master Malfoy, sir?"
Draco knew it was merely procedure that the house-elves wait for a reply, because his father never sent a request for him to reply to, they were always demands. Saying no to his father was like signing a death wish, and frankly that was not something he wanted to do.
"Tell my father that I shall be there."
"Yes sir, Mister Malfoy, sir." Draco heard another loud cracking pop and sighed inwardly to himself. As hard as he thought to himself he could not possibly think of any reason for his father to take the time to have breakfast with him. His father was almost never there in the morning to begin with, and even when he did happen to be there, he never gave up any of his precious time, which he could be using to serve the Dark Lord, in order to have breakfast with him.
Draco quickly finished his shower and wrapped a towel around his self as he stepped out of the bathroom. On his bed were undergarments, a black silk shirt, a pair of black cotton pants, and a dark green robe. He finished drying himself off and dressed, noting what an efficient job the house-elf had done in selecting his clothing, but then again, fear could make even the most worthless of servants useful.
Or at least that was what his father had taught him. Fear was a person's greatest weapon. When used properly, it could gain the user immeasurable power, and that was what Draco wanted, or at least he thought so.
Draco looked at the small clock beside his bed: he had about ten minutes until seven, and so decided to make his way to the dining hall.
Draco walked slowly: continuing to run ideas of what his father wanted through his head. Still nothing.
He reached the dining hall with two minutes to spare, and slowly opened the large wooden door, which led to the hall.
His father was already sitting at the far end of the long table, and waved him in as soon he stepped though the door. Draco sat opposite of his father: letting out a quiet sigh of relief as he noticed the happy grin on his father's face.
"I have excellent news, Draco, but first, let us eat." Lucius snapped his fingers and a plate of eggs and bacon and a goblet of pumpkin juice appeared before both himself and Draco. Lucius began eating immediately and Draco paced himself according to his father so that they would both finish at about the same time.
Neither said a word as they ate, which Draco was used to. It was not proper for a Malfoy to speak during a business meal; to do so was considered rude and disrespectful. And no meal eaten together in the Malfoy Manor was ever anything other than business.
Halfway through the meal, Lucius put his fork down and pushed the plate away from his self. Draco followed suit: mimicking his father's movements.
"Tippy!" Immediately the cowering house-elf appeared beside Lucius, bowing as low as it could. "Clear the table." The house-elf grabbed the plate and goblet, then made it's way over to Draco: taking his plate and goblet as well, before disappearing with a loud cracking pop.
"Down to business now, Draco", Lucius drawled. To anyone else he would have seemed annoyed, but Draco knew that that was the closest his father ever got to being pleased. "As you know, last night I was attending a meeting with the Dark Lord, and while we were speaking, our conversation drifted to you and your future initiation as a death eater. He seemed quite pleased with your current skills and due to circumstances of future plans of attack he has decided to grant you a great honor. Tomorrow, the Dark Lord will initiate you into his ranks as a death eater." Strait and to the point, just like always.
Draco sat in silent shock. This above all was not what he had expected his father to tell him, then again he really hadn't known what to expect. Even still, when his father had said good news, he expected the news to be good for him as well, but this was far from good. Draco knew that eventually he would have to go through the death eater initiation, but he had always planned to find a way out of it, a way to avoid the actual dark mark, but then again he also didn't think he would have had to worry about it until after he graduated from Hogwarts. There were no death eaters in the Dark Lords ranks that were younger than eighteen.
And the reason for that was what was involved in the initiation ceremony. The candidate would be tortured using the cruciatus curse for no less than ten minutes and would then be forced to both torture and a kill a muggle. Only then would the candidate receive the dark mark.
Sure he had always wanted to rid the earth of all muggles, but it was all just talk. There was no way he was going to be able to kill one himself. And on top of it, be tortured himself. While he would never admit it, he was scared.
He also couldn't understand why the Dark Lord would accept him into his ranks at such a young age in the first place. Especially when he hadn't even completed his magical training yet. He was only fifteen for Merlin's sake, there was no way he was going to be able to fulfill the requirements of a death eater. Draco decided to disguise his disbelief.
"Father, I do not understand why the Dark Lord has decided to present me with such an honor." Draco studied his father's features, trying to decipher if he was going to get an answer or a scolding. Lucius sat silently for a moment before giving a reply that, once again, Draco found he had not expected.
"Is it not obvious, Draco. You are the most talented wizard of your Slytherin classmates. Does that not make you perfect to become a spy for the Dark Lord? In this way, you will eventually be able to bring him Potter, and no one will be the wiser to suspect you of being a death eater."
"Yes, but father, isn't Professor Snape already working as a spy for the Dark Lord? Why world the Dark Lord need another spy?" Draco did his best to hide the unease in his voice.
"The Dark Lord seems to believe that Severus's loyalty is waving. He needs a spy within Hogwarts that he can trust."
"Of course father, that is wise...and it would be an honor to serve the Dark Lord."
"Excellent! Now that we're done I must go to the Dark Lord and help prepare for your initiation ceremony. You have made me proud, my son." Lucius rose from the table and made his way toward the large wooden doors, which Draco had entered through less than twenty minutes ago. "I shall see you tomorrow morning. Make sure you are prepared, Draco."
Draco gave a silent nod in response and watched as the wooden doors slammed shut blocking his father from sight. He sat there for few more moments, not quite know what to do. So many thoughts were running through his mind, and all of them were becoming jumbled as he desperately attempted to sort them out.
Far above anything was the fact that he didn't want to become a death eater. While he didn't want to go against the Dark Lord and join the light either, there was no way that he was going to become the Dark Lord's branded slave. And that's all they were to Draco, branded slaves, while seemingly free, death eaters were forced into disgraceful and embarrassing servitude, as well as tortured and even killed if the Dark Lord so willed it, and that was not something Draco was going to do willingly. But what else could he do. He had not been given a choice, he never had. He had been told what he was to do and with that there was no argument, no question. That's how it had always been, and that's how it always would be unless he did something about it.
But once again it came back to the question of what he could possibly do. If he defied the Dark Lord and refused his initiation, he would still become a marked man, only instead of being marked with death, he'd be marked for death. And even though he didn't want to admit it, he was afraid of what would happen to him. He'd loose everything, most importantly his father's pride in him.
His father's pride in him had always been one of Draco's top goals, but no matter what he did, nothing ever seemed to be enough. And now that he had finally gained it, it was for something that Draco could not be proud of himself for doing. How was lowering himself into the position of a servant anything to be proud of? He thought of it as a disgrace, something the Dark Lord should be hiring house-elves to do. Suddenly his father's pride in him no longer seemed all that important. It didn't give him the glad feeling that he had always thought was supposed to accompany it. And now, as far as he was concerned, it was not something he wanted anymore. Not if this was what he was going to have to do to obtain it.
In the end everything came back to the fact that he had to find a way out, and as long as he stayed here and refused the dark mark, his life was in danger. That was it. He had to leave. He had to find a place to hide away from his father, and the death eaters, and most importantly the Dark Lord.
Of course he wasn't proud of desiring to hide, but at the moment, it was the only thing he could do. And right now, he would take whatever he could get.
Draco finally got up and left the dining hall in an apprehensive mood. He was still slightly reeling in shock of his father's "good" news. He made his was in nervous silence to his room and collapsed on his bed as soon as he entered.
Now the question was where to go. He immediately ruled his friends out. As soon as they were to find out about his betrayal he would not even be safe among them. Any of them would gladly turn him in to the Dark Lord in order to gain favor.
Hogwarts was also a no. After everything he had done to the wonder boy Potter and that oaf Hagrid, there was no way that any of the professors or that senile old headmaster was going to risk their lives to protect him from the Dark Lord.
That really only left one choice that he could think of: the Leaky Cauldron. He had more than enough money on hand to rent a room for the rest of the summer and as long as he lay low, his father need never know where he was. Especially since he was good acquaintance with the innkeeper, Tom. You could almost call them friends except for the fact that Draco would never admit to being friends with the owner of a filthy little pub and board, no matter how popular it happened to be. Still, he knew Tom would keep his secret if he asked.
That was that. He made up his mind. He immediately hopped off his bed and began packing his Hogwarts trunks with only the absolute essentials in the hopes that it might give him more time if his father didn't realize right away, that he was gone and not coming back.
'Not coming back.' The thought hit him like a brick. He was never going to be able to come back to Malfoy Manor, not unless both the Dark Lord and his father were dead.
Draco shook his head. He couldn't allow himself to become distracted with such thoughts. It was either this or his life. Draco sighed heavily and finished packing his trunk: shrinking it down with a shrinking solution and placing it carefully inside his pocket when it was full.
He would have to wait until dark to summon the Knight Bus. It was the only way he could get to the Leaky Cauldron unnoticed. If questioned he'd merely use another name. He had to admit that most of his plan was built upon chance, but it was the only plan he had, and there wasn't enough time to carefully craft a flawless plan like the kind he was normally known for.
Draco flopped back down on his bed and sighed loudly.
"This is never going to work", he mumbled to himself. He rolled over onto his side and before he knew it his eyes had drifted closed and he was fast asleep.
DREAM
Draco found himself in a strange room, entirely empty except for a large lightning bolt shaped rock imbedded in the center of the room. The rock was covered with holes and cracks all of which were oozing a strange red liquid that Draco could only assumed was blood. While terrifying in appearance, Draco could not help but feel somehow comforted. He slowly approached the rock and lay down beside it. A strange warmth began to surround him and Draco smiled one of his few genuine smiles as he slowly closed his eyes.
END DREAM
Draco slowly opened his eyes and let out a stifled yawn. He couldn't understand what that dream was all about. It was strange. He starred at the ceiling, but could see nothing through the complete and utter blackness that surrounded him. Then it hit him. His plan. How could he have fallen asleep? Draco shot into a sitting position and nervously glanced at the small clock beside his bed. It was already midnight. He couldn't believe that he had slept that long. He had no idea when his father was going to come home, but one thing was for sure, he couldn't be here when his father returned.
Draco took out his wand and slowly began to wander through the manor toward the font door. The complete silence should have made him feel better, but for some reason it only increased his overwhelming nerves.
He arrived at the front door and quietly tiptoed outside. It was a long walk to the end of the Malfoy Manor property, and Draco was eager to arrive quickly at the main road that lay just beyond the huge iron gates that surrounded the entire property.
The gate emitted a loud creaking noise as Draco struggled to open it. He quickly froze and looked around searching for any signs that he had been caught. After a moment of complete silence, Draco continued out the gate and scrambled to the road.
Draco glanced around one more time before lighting his knight-bus-light (Knight Bus summoner for the underage wizard on the go) and waiting impatiently for the night bus to arrive. He waited nearly an hour before a bright light came screeching down the road and nearly ran him over as it came to a "stop on a dime" halt.
The door flung open and a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and...hey". Draco had shoved some money in the conductor's hand and then pushed past him and settled himself on the first bed, which also seemed to be the only open one. The bus was completely full from the looks of it. No wonder it took so long to arrive. By the looks of it, he wasn't going to get to the Leaky Cauldron for hours.
The conductor climbed on board and starred harshly at him for a moment before asking, "Where choo going?"
"The Leaky Cauldron", Draco drawled back.
"It's gonna be awhile. That's the last stop, that is." Draco sighed and lay down on the bed.
"Well, wake me when we get there, if you would?"
"Course...uh...what's choo name?" Draco froze for a moment before blurting out the first name that popped into his head.
"Blaise Zabini." Draco felt strange using his best friends name but it was the only name, other than his own, that he'd be able to stand being called.
"Right then, mister Zabini, I'll wake choo when we get there. Take 'er away, Ern." With a bang the bus shot away from the manor gates and Draco was thrown out of the bed and onto the floor. Draco was disgusted with himself for using such a pathetic public transportation method, but he really had no other choice.
He climbed back into bed and after nearly an hour was finally able to nod off to a continuously interrupted sleep.
It was hours later when Draco was awoken by a hearty shake.
"We there, Mister Zabini." Draco opened his eyes and starred up at the young conductor. He groggily climbed out of bed, gave a mumbled thank you, and stumbled off the bus. It seemed that he was the last person left, and as soon as he stepped off, the door slammed shut behind him and the bus took off with another loud bang.
The sun was just beginning to rise and Draco quickly made his way into the Leaky Cauldron. He found Tom behind a long counter drying some mugs.
"Draco my lad, what a pleasant surprise. What on earth are you doing here? And where's your father?" Tom had a kindly surprised expression adorning his face.
"Actually my father doesn't know I'm here, and I'd like to keep it that way." Draco looked shyly down at his feet.
"I see, I suppose you need a room." It was more of a statement than a question.
"Yes actually, do you have a room I could rent for the remainder of the summer?"
Tom reached behind himself and pulled a large ancient looking key off a hook on the wall. He turned back around and handed it to Draco.
"You're in luck. Room thirteen, my last room. We're packed this summer for some reason." Draco took the key and nodded to Tom.
"Thanks and like you probably already figured out, my father cannot know about this no matter what." Tom nodded back.
"I understand and I promise you that I'll do my best to keep your father from finding out. Why don't you get up to your room and settle yourself in"
"Alright and thanks again, I really own you one."
"No problem." Draco made his way up the stairs to the rooms and walked down the long narrow hallway until he reached a room with a small brass number 13 on it. He put the key in the lock and turned it: slowly opening the door and entering. He quickly turned around, shut, and locked the door. He turned back around to survey his living quarters for the rest of the summer and what he saw made his eyes nearly pop out of their sockets in shock.
"POTTER?!"