Title: Rebirth
Author: darchangel
Chapter: 03 – The Bridge
Summary: set post-HBP After the Hogwarts incident, Draco fled—he didn't care where he would go, as long as no one could find him. When he nearly dies, a Muggle girl takes care of him. But it's Draco Malfoy—will he let her?

WARNING: HBP SPOILERS! Do not read if you haven't read the book! Readers, ye be warned!
Disclaimers: I don't own Draco (too bad, though), Harry Potter or any of the plot that happened before the story. I do own Anne and the rest of the characters appearing and that's awesome! LOL.

The plot, characters, bands and songs mentioned are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people and songs is entirely coincidental.

Author's Notes:

1. Now that I've built up my characters, I'm good to go; hopefully I will have completed chapter four by the end of the Christmas holidays.

2. Forgive the anachronisms, please. I was surfing through HP Lexicon the other day and I read that JKR doesn't say directly when the story takes place because she doesn't want to spoil the directness of 'now', i.e. that we are okay believing that the story takes place in the present, whether that be in the 2000's or the 1990's. Well... you're cool with that, aren't you? ;-)

3. POVs are not stable. Sometimes it's Draco's POV, sometimes it's Anne's. I write from the POV I want the audience to see the situation from. If I want both POVs I write it with a neutral narrator. Only I won't say which witch is which; figure it out for yourself... (A hint: when I say 'Draco' it's either neutral or from Draco's point of view... Anne doesn't know his real name, does she? wink)

4. I might provide you with a drawing of the interior of Anne's house, as well as figurines of the characters that I am working on. I'll upload them on my deviantART and I'll let you all know. I think it might actually be very helpful for you guys.

That's all. Enjoy the reading, and thanks for your reviews:)
(...Please review, ne?)

xXx

"What do you mean, your house?" the blond boy exclaimed, looking at Anne with shock.
"What you heard. That's where we're going," she answered coolly, not looking at him and walking straight ahead in a road full of identical houses and similarly identical lawns.
"I don't need to be taken in like some kind of beggar! I don't need your help!"
"Well, suit yourself. You're not well and you won't leave until you are well. I'm not letting you die like you tried to..." she said, stopping on her track and looking down. "You don't deserve it," she added as she looked up at him.

Draco restrained a blush at the girl's words that still rang bizarrely in his ears.
"You don't know me," he said quietly, "you can't be sure that I don't deserve it."
She had picked up the pace again, and was walking ahead of him, her hands in the pockets of her gray trousers and shoulders too slouched for a girl.

The memories of this past June were too painful to remember but too raw and vivid to keep back. You don't know the monster I am, he thought. I deserve to die the cruelest death.
"No one deserves it," Anne said in response, making him jump out of his deep thoughts. "I believe it and I will support it with all my might. As long as I can help it, you won't die."

Draco snickered and looked away from her, to the perfect lawns surrounding him. It looked so perfect, it was sickening.
"Is this some kind of foolish, idealistic moral this community is trying to promote?"
Anne bit her lower lip but didn't stop walking or look at him.
"Just so you know, the foolish and idealistic moral is my own belief. No one promotes anything around here."
For a moment, Draco thought he saw a flash of sadness in her eyes, a shadow he couldn't place. Her next words echoed in his mind with a very deep, resonating sound.

"This place has been dead for too long for anyone to come up with something this life-supportive."

He looked around him. The rain had forced everyone inside their houses; everything looked so gray and wet... it was depressing.

This place is as dead as I am.
Something tells me I might even like it here.

They didn't speak at all for the remainder of the journey to Anne's house.

xXx

Draco half-expected a large, stone mansion in the center of the town... It would have been just what he was used to, only with more people surrounding him.

Alas, it was not.

But it wasn't a shabby wooden hut either.
What he was looking at was a decent, brick-walled two-storey house with tall windows and what appeared to be an attic under the roof. There was a wide opening on the side of the house, which in all other houses were occupied by large vehicles with four wheels each that were made of metal and looked... beastly, but interesting.

Anne caught him staring at the neighbours' vehicle, and decided to comment.
"You like cars?"
Draco looked at her in disbelief. "What is their function?" he whispered in awe.
Anne stared at him incredulously. "You mean you've never seen a car before?"

Sure he'd seen a car before. They zoomed past him from this or the other side on his tiresome and pointless journey to nowhere; they went around London in a much slower pace but still... they were everywhere. But what are they exactly? he wondered.

"... You drive them around, they take you anywhere you want to go...?"
Draco looked at the car again. That thing can Apparate? or fly?
Yeah, like that idiotic bloke's Anglia five years ago!
No wait... they nearly got expelled because they made it fly... I guess they don't really fly after all.

It was hard for him to even realize that everything around him was non-magical. There were no witches or wizards around him, no kids on broomsticks trying to outfly their brothers, no cloaks, no wands... Nothing.

WHERE THE HELL IS MY WAND! he thought in panic, and accelerated his pace to catch up with Anne. How do I ask her now?

"Erm... When I came I had a... a..."
"A useless piece of wood and a cloak, I know. I took them last night when I left the hospital. They're upstairs," Anne answered as she fumbled in her bag for a key-ring with multiple keys on it. She selected a round one and opened the door, letting Draco in. He stared after her with a surprised look, amazed at her thoughtfulness and discretion as she didn't seem to want to know about that 'useless piece of wood'. He followed her inside, noticing the doormat which was immobile and unanimated, but only said "Welcome" in a curvy writing, with a flower at the end of the 'e'. No roaring or singing or hopping up and down like wizarding mats. He followed Anne inside, curious about what a Muggle home would look like. Truth was, he had somewhat abandoned the idea of all Muggles being disgusting or low—after all, this girl had indeed saved his life, and was now taking him into her home.

The interior was nothing like Draco had ever seen. First of all, it was clearly a Muggle residence; there were all sorts of electrical devices scattered throughout the living room and the kitchen, which could be seen far back on the right as he entered through the main door. The furniture looked somewhat futuristic—having grown up in environments of classical influence, the furniture inside Anne's house seemed a bit... simplistic. However the colour palettes around the living room were soothing and harmonic: the walls were painted a light greenish blue and the sofas had a light blue floral pattern with light green touches here and there. All wooden things around, including tables, chairs and the kitchen surface, were of a light brown colour, whereas the kitchen walls were painted with a creamy yellow colour that reminded Draco of Florean Fortesque's Creamy Crème ice cream.

He was killed before he even had a chance to escape. And it's not like he was a dangerous fellow... Draco thought, remembering the day that he overheard the Death Eaters talking about it. Whatever could such a nice man be responsible for? He was nice to everyone, even to Slytherins whom I don't think he particularly liked...

On the left there was a single white door and then a staircase which led to the second floor of the house. Anne was already climbing up the stairs and Draco followed her without further ado.

There were four or five doors around the second floor, and another staircase that he supposed led to the attic. The walls were stark white, and so were the doors except for the frames which were of a dark reddish brown colour. He noticed a door labeled 'Anne' with big, decorated letters, and another one labeled 'Tom' (who, Draco thought, must be her brother), with an undecorated white door between them.

Across the hall there were two more doors, and in the small wall there was another door towards which Anne was walking. He followed her and found himself in a bedroom with a four poster bed and semi-transparent orange-coloured curtains that bristled in the breeze coming in from the tall, open windows. The walls were painted a very light peach shade, and the furniture around was of a light, beech-brown colour. There was a bookcase filled top-to-toe with books and little boxes that were labeled 'CDs' (Draco wondered what that might be) and 'candles' and other things like that, a dresser with a mirror on top, a wardrobe and two bedside tables on either side of the king sized four-poster bed. The view was nothing much; there was a back yard and then a fence, and further than that there were other houses, so still and gray in the misery of the rain.

He was still staring out the window, trying to make out any shapes in the distant skyline (although it was impossible due to fog), when Anne entered again—Draco hadn't even noticed she was gone—carrying a pair of trousers and a long black T-shirt with a peculiar blood-red stamp on it.

"Here," she said, "they're my brother's. They might be a little baggy, but... at least they fit you."
Draco stared at the clothes for a moment, his mind completely blank.
"Um, you do have to change. You're soaking wet."
It was then that he realized that he indeed was wet from top to toe; tiny drops of water were dripping from his hair onto his face, making him look more and more like a drowned cat.

"Your things are in the top drawer of the dresser over there," said Anne pointing towards the dresser opposite the bed. "I'll go downstairs to make something to eat, what would you like?"
Draco pondered it for a while but couldn't think of anything, although his stomach was growling.
"...Would eggs and bacon be okay?" she asked, looking at him with an eager, questioning look. He nodded and watched her leave the room and shut the door behind her, leaving him alone to change and rest until their breakfast was done.

That girl must be crazy... Draco thought. Why did she take me in? What's in it for her?
The rain was now pouring hard outside, reflecting the blond boy's bittersweet and numb feelings.
I doubt if any of this matters at all right now...

He walked over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. There was his cloak, the black turtleneck he had been wearing, and his wand. He looked at the wand intensely, wandering how curious the girl might get.
Let's hope she won't get curious, he thought anxiously. I didn't survive just to be caught again.

Somewhere far away, the church bell-tower clock chimed noon.

xXx

He came down to the kitchen after a while, the smell of crispy bacon and eggs tantalizing his nostrils. The girl was standing over an electrical device, cooking. She looked reminiscent and thoughtful with a slight grin across her face, and as soon as she sensed the blond boy approaching, she served the breakfast on a big, white plate with a wide smile on her face. She beckoned for him to sit down at the round, wooden table that stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Here," she said with a grin, "dig in."
Draco picked up the fork hesitantly and started nibbling at his late breakfast, occasionally looking at the auburn-haired girl who was putting things in their places, organizing the kitchen in a very strict kind of way. He looked around him; everything was so... ordered. There wasn't a fiber out of place, not just in the kitchen but in the entire house.

He liked that. It reminded him of home... back when it was still pleasant to live there.

Time passed, and soon he finished eating. The girl cleaned up the kitchen and poured some orange juice for both of them into glasses with funny drawings on them. Right then there was a strange, loud growling noise from outside, like a machine accelerating, and then it stopped. A car door opened and shut.

Anne glanced at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall above the back door, somewhat alarmed. It was almost two o'clock. Noticing that Draco was staring at her, she blushed and explained that it was probably her dad coming home from work. Draco looked towards the door, where a man had just entered.

He was a tall, middle-aged man, who looked a lot like that darn Arthur Weasley who worked at the ministry; only this man didn't have red hair and was even skinnier than Arthur Weasley. He was slightly balding and a pair of huge myopic glasses adorned his skinny face. He wore a light brown suit with a white shirt and a mismatched tie, and carried a boring-looking dark brown briefcase. When he saw Draco sitting at the kitchen table and Anne standing close by wearing an apron and wiping her hands on a kitchen towel, he froze on his tracks, trying to comprehend the bizarre image. The rules said no boys in the house. Who was this blond punk now!

"Good day father," said Anne, not looking at him in the eyes.
"Hi sweetheart," he replied, making small steps towards the kitchen. "Who is this?"

This! That's the most creative thing he can say! thought Draco in disgust. I'm not a bloody object!

"Um... this is Drake," answered Anne hesitantly, "and he'll be staying over for a while."

The man had adopted a relatively indifferent attitude so far, but now he dropped all pretenses and looked at his daughter austerely.
"Young man..." he began with a firm yet rather dull voice, "...Drake, is it? Please leave us alone for a moment."

Normally Draco would tolerate none of this ordering behaviour on him by a mere Muggle; the thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. However this girl had done little to deserve contempt—in fact, he had really developed a less detached feeling towards her, seeing that she had actually done so much for him when he had only shown her aggression and negative behaviour. It was the least he could do, not to retaliate her father's snappy manner.

He stood up and walked to the left, towards the far end of the kitchen where he had spotted another exit, which led to the left side of the house. He could still hear muffled voices as he walked towards the front of the house. Incoherent phrases like 'stranger' and 'inappropriate' reached his ears, but he paid no mind—his head ached like mad as the raindrops fell on him. Slowly, the bandage covering his would on his left forearm was becoming wet, and the pain was too much.
Draco just sat on the sidewalk, face buried in his hands.

Life sucks, he thought plainly, and his mind went blank as the voices from the kitchen rose in a crescendo.

xXx

"What do you think you're doing?" her father asked, looking at her snootily.
"I'm helping someone in need," Anne answered, her chin up but her confidence faltering within her.

This will be tougher than I thought, she said inside her head, measuring her options. I have to convince him to let the boy stay! But how?

"By letting him into our house? Do you even know what kind of person he is?"
"You don't have to know someone to help him," she protested, testing his limits, "it's even in the Bible."
He stared at her incredulously, a hint of irony in his eyes.
"So now you're playing the good Samaritan."
"I'm not playing anything, dad. I'm just speaking in terms that you understand." Touché.
Her father crossed his arms and sighed.
"Aaah..." he said exhaling, and adjusted the glassed on his nose. "To think you would go this far because of what happened with—"
"It has nothing to do with that!" she cut him off saying, her voice rising. "I can't believe you even thought of it!"
Mr. Richards was looking at the floor and nodding to himself silently, as if confirming his suspicions. Anne stared at him, so surprised and appalled that she stood speechless for many moments.

The tension and the silence were deafening in that small kitchen.

When Anne finally managed to retrieve her voice, she sounded weak and terrified.
"By God, father... You're more obsessed with it than I am!" she exclaimed.
He didn't answer. He looked up at her and spoke with an irrevocable tone.
"That boy will not stay in my house."
"But he isn't well! He'll die out there!"
"Where is his family, then?"

She didn't know what to say; she hadn't cared enough to ask.
He did insist that he didn't have any family... she thought. But that wouldn't be enough to persuade her father of anything.

"I take your silence as ignorance," he continued, since Anne had not responded. "No matter how much in need this boy is, I am not taking a complete stranger into my house," he said, repeating himself over and over again.
"He is my friend and I promised to help him!"
"It won't be the first time you will break a promise."
"I won't break a promise just because you won't let me keep it!"
"You are my daughter and are obliged to obey me."
"I am old enough to make my own decisions!"

"Sixteen and a half is hardly 'old enough'."
"Since you won't allow any one to breathe... Look where Tom ended up!"
"Leave Tom out of this!"

Another rush of silence spread.
Anne looked into her father's eyes with all the determination she had left.
"That boy needs me."
He didn't respond immediately; when he did, though, his voice was both angry and weak.

"If you're doing this because of your—"
"UGH! You just don't get it, do you?" Anne yelled at him and ran outside into the rain, throwing the white apron on the kitchen floor.

She barely noticed Drake sitting on the pavement in front of their lawn, his face buried in his arms; her tears blended with the rain that fell on her face as she turned right from her house and zoomed off into the distance.

The blond boy lifted his head just in time to see her fade away into the mist and the rain. He got up and started walking in the same direction. Why he did so, he wasn't sure... But he kept walking, the pain in his arm sharper than ever.

xXx

She was standing in the middle of a small, wooden bridge not very far from where her house stood, her almost orange hair now slick with the rain that still fell from the gray sky. Her arms were folded on the railing, and she was looking into the depths of the river, pouring her secrets out with the tears she still wept.

A few yards away, on the small paved path among the trees, stood Drake catching his breath, having run in order to keep up with her. Slowly he approached her, his footsteps a wet, muffled sound in that lonely and empty landscape.

She felt someone behind her and looked up; surprised, she saw the blond boy, soaked wet in his baggy, borrowed clothes.

"Why are you here?" she asked in a frail voice, turning to the river again.
"I don't know," he answered blankly, following her gaze.

They remained silent for a long while, staring at the river, each of them thinking about different things. The rain fell incessantly upon them, and a sudden bolt of lightning illuminated the sky. It was getting cold...

"I like coming here to think," she said, half to Drake and half to herself, straightening her back a little but still leaning on the railing with her elbows.
Not having heard her remark, he interrupted her thoughts with his own.
"Why did you take me in?" he asked bitterly.
Taken aback, she stood up completely and turned to face him.
"What do you mean?" she said, forgetting about her father and the bridge and everything.

The look he threw her made her shiver with cold; why is he being so aggressive?

"You shouldn't take me in—I mean, thanks and whatever for 'rescuing' me, but... this is my path now."

Thanks and whatever! Anne thought, bewildered. Clearly this guy isn't used to polite conversation.

"I'm not taking you off any path," she protested, looking at him in the eyes while he avoided her stare, "but in the case that you're in you won't last long. Just wait until you get better, and then go follow whichever path attracts your fancy!"
Silence.
"I just... I can't just let you die!"
"What's wrong with death?" he said sarcastically, meeting her gaze now.
"Nothing's wrong with it if the time is right for you to go. If you kill yourself you take away all hope of things getting better!"
He looked away into the river.
"Things can't get better... Not with me."
"Wanna bet?"
Her playful tone made him spin his head towards her. She was smiling sympathetically—a sad, yet encouraging smile.

"Trust me," she said, looking into his eyes boldly, "I've been where you are now... And the only thing I've learned is that life is full of ups and downs. Maybe the downs are very hard blows sometimes, but the ups are what life's worth living for!"

He looked away from her again, contemplating what she'd just said.
The rain was slowly stopping now.

Could it be true? Is there always an 'up' after a 'down'?
Is there an 'up' for me, now?

Anne looked up at the sky.
"Maybe we ought to be getting home," she suggested.
He stared at her blankly.
She continued after his pause. "We'll get a cold... And you're already feverish from before."

He didn't protest; slowly, they both turned away from the bridge railing and took the path back towards Anne's house.

Draco did turn to look at the bridge once more.
"Nice spot," he commented, only half-serious. Somehow he felt rather light-hearted right now.
"Thanks," said Anne, stretching her arms. "I discovered it when I was little, and it's been my favourite place ever since..."

In a slow pace, recovering their strength and, surprisingly, their good mood, they walked off into the mist, with no rain falling on their heads anymore—the sun was breaking through the clouds that moved away to reveal a clear, blue sky.

There's always an 'up' after a 'down'...

Nonsensical A/N for the other otakus reading this story...

The characters have a very clear anime-like image for me; I have connected everything appearance-related to specific characters from various series. Like in this last, rainy scene: imagine a Kyo-like female figure Kyo Fruits Basket... don't laugh, he actually shares a lot with Anne... the orange hair for starters, LOL running off into the rain, and a wet Yuki Eiri running after her. The image was so clear-cut in my own head... OMG, the fandoms are merging! o.O I must be getting nuts.

Anyways, enjoy until I finish chapter four... It's gonna be a tough one, so please forgive me if I take too long...