Chapter 2
Escaping to Romania…
Draco sighed as he packed his last pair of trousers. He looked around his room. The walls were stone bricks, the floor the same. His bed had high posts on it fashioned from ebony wood. They had dragons' heads on the tips which breathed ice every once in a while (obviously implying the cool temperature of Malfoy Manor). This amused Draco, and this was one of the things he would miss the most. That, and the painting of Succubus hanging over his bed, which indulged in him regularly.
He flicked the wand and the bag latched itself and locked itself up tightly. He sat on the bed, staring at the floor. He still wanted to know, why Romania? Why not the villas of Italy, or the streets of France, or the countryside of Spain? Why not the lovely coast of the Mediterranean? Why not somewhere where they could see the water expanding for miles and miles, where fish jump and birds sing?
Oh, these thoughts were so very un-Draco like. But he couldn't help it. The depression of the life he was leading was driving him mad.
"POTTER!" Came the voice of Vernon Dursley at seven o' clock on the morning of July the Seventh. Harry fumbled for his glasses, too sleepy to open his eyes. "COME DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!" Finally, Harry found his glasses. He slipped them on, slid into his slippers, scratched his cheek and made his way down to the kitchen, where the Dursleys usually were.
"Yes?" Harry asked in a generously sweet voice for a person who had been woken up early by their horrible uncle in summer when it is the law to sleep in. "What is it?"
Uncle Vernon looked furious, but he looked overjoyed as well. In fact, the two were so well mixed into his face that it looked rather the color and texture of blackberry current ice cream. Harry stifled his chuckle by biting his tongue as he stood, hunched with sluggishness, and awaited what his rather emotional uncle was trying to tell him.
Uncle Vernon held up a letter. "We've won a trip," he snarled. "A trip to Romania. And Mrs. Figg is away. Marge is on her honeymoon with Henry…" He looked ready to explode. At the same time, something was exploding inside of Harry. If he had heard his uncle correctly, there was no one to watch him, just as there hadn't been the time he had gone to the zoo and let the snake on Dudley. He waited with baited breath for those final, freeing words.
"Stop gawking at me, you idiotic child! You know what this means. It means…"
"That I'm coming with you?" Harry asked excitedly, ignoring the fact that Uncle Vernon had dared call him a child. Aunt Petunia and Dudley watched in complete horror, devastated that their freak of a nephew who they wished didn't exist was going on vacation with them.
"Yes." Uncle Vernon's face wrinkled with displeasure as he admitted it. "Yes, you are coming with us. We're leaving in one hour, and if you're not packed –"
But Harry didn't allow him to finish. He was already down the hall and halfway up the stairs. He dashed into his room, happier than he had been in weeks. He looked at Hedwig with a huge grin.
"We're finally getting out of Privet Drive, even if it is with the Dursleys!" He announced to her. She hooted in satisfaction. He threw his books and his clothes in his trunk. He packed his wand just in case. He was only sixteen, but he remembered his encounter with the Dementors in Magnolia Crescent quite well, since it was only about a year ago. Now that Fudge was out of office, he could never get expelled for defending himself.
Finally, he was ready. He laid on his bed and stared at his watch. It seemed to take ages, but finally it was time to leave. He dragged his trunk downstairs. It emanated a large thump with each step it hit on the way down the staircase. Harry didn't care. He was overjoyed to be getting out of this sticky, cliché, preppy neighborhood.
Uncle Vernon was flushed, Aunt Petunia was pale, and Dudley was as fat as ever. Nevertheless, they squeezed into Uncle Vernon's tiny car and started on their way to Romania. Harry stared out the window dreamily and knew that, at last, his opportunity for paradise had come.
Draco lugged his suitcase out to the front lawn. They would be traveling by threstals. He saw the sad animals, chewing on a steak out in the courtyard. Their eyes glowed in the simple afternoon sun. Quietly, he set the bags near the fountain and crept back inside.
"Pansy and Lauren are coming too," Lucius told him as he spotted him slipping in the door. "I arranged for that. I thought you might enjoy it." He smirked, knowing full well his son's appetite for women. What he didn't know was that that appetite had been gradually decreasing over the last year. Women didn't interest Draco very much anymore, and he didn't bother to figure it out. He just told himself that he was simply around them too much. Anyone can get tired of the opposite sex after being around them all the time.
"Yes, Father. Thank you." Draco replied in a monotone. He decided to ask him what he had wanted to ask all along. "Father, why are we going to Romania?"
His father stopped and looked at Draco. There was the familiar cold glint in his eye Draco had always noticed right before he got give across the face.
"I have business to conduct with the Dark Lord." His father said coldly, not blinking.
"Really." Draco said rhetorically. He wasn't surprised.
"Yes. Did you take your things out to the courtyard?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go."
Lucius went to fetch Draco's mother, Narcissa. When they came back down, holding hands and looking strangely dreamy-eyed, Draco sighed and they went into the front yard. Still holding hands, Narcissa and Lucius boarded one threstal. Draco quietly mounted the other and held on tightly.
They arrived in Romania a time later. The land was cold and barren, a scarred wasteland and a depressing spread of death. Draco was torn by it. Of course, what had he expected? But it didn't matter. He sighed and dismounted the threstal, which snorted. He patted it softly. There was an understanding between he and this animal, even if it was quiet and miniscule.
In the distance was a two story flat. It was large, but smaller than what Draco was used to. It looked much like a beach house. Suddenly, a glint of light caught Draco's eye…
…could it be?
Abandoning his luggage and ignoring his father's calls, he dashed past the house and stopped.
There lay a more beautiful lake than he had ever seen with his own eyes. The water was clear and looked cool and blue. The bottom rim was long and sloped, Draco could see. A little dock stretched out bravely into the water. There were hills ahead, and the sun was slinking down below them. He bent down and ran his hand through the water. Draco shivered as a set of chills ran down his spine.
"Draco, what are you doing?" Lucius hollered. "Come and get your luggage!"
Reluctantly, Draco stepped away from the edge of the inviting lake and went to fetch his trunk. Lucius looked incensed.
What's your problem? Draco thought, annoyed. He picked up the trunk and dragged it up the porch of the house and into the first room.
It was quaint, but ancient in a way he couldn't describe. The room looked as though it had been carved from driftwood. In fact, that is what Draco concluded.
"Your room is upstairs." Lucius sneered. He was standing in the doorway behind Draco.
"What's that door over there?" Draco pointed to a door on his right.
"That's the door to the other house." He said casually. Draco gave him a funny look. "This is a duplex. Didn't you know?"
"And we couldn't afford a house to ourselves?" Draco asked skeptically.
"Not at the moment, no. You know I'm a little short on Galleons."
"But –"
Lucius gave him The Look.
"Who's the other family?"
"I don't know. Some man and his wife, kid, and nephew."
Draco turned away and took his trunk upstairs. By the time he got up, he was sweating and out of breath. To the left, a sign that read 'Draco' was pinned next to a flimsy-looking door. He shoved it open and went inside.
The room was made to look like a sailor's quarters. The window was a porthole and the knobs on the dresser were little anchors. This is gay, Draco thought exasperatedly. Quietly fuming, he began to unpack his things.
Harry arrived when it was nearly dark. He saw a large beach house, then caught a glimpse of the lake. It was wonderful. He hadn't really expected Romania to be like this, and he was pleasantly surprised. He imagined staying at some boring hotel where you're not allowed to dive in the pools and they leave those disgusting peppermints on your pillow.
"What a rattrap." He heard Uncle Vernon whisper to Aunt Petunia. "And I can't believe we're sharing this with another family."
Harry turned back to them sharply. "What other family?"
"What was it…the Malloys?" His face contorted, annoyed that Harry had asked him a question that actually required him to think.
A horrible thought came to Harry's mind. He wanted to ignore it, but he voiced it anyway.
"Not that Malfoys?"
"Yes! That's the one." Uncle Vernon replied. "And if you act abnormal boy, I swear you'll be chained to that dock for a month." He threatened, his face going purple.
"Fine." Harry answered coolly. He wouldn't really mind being chained to the dock for a month if that meant he didn't have to answer to Malfoy.
Bravely, he dragged his trunk to the front door and knocked.
