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It's so much easier being dead.
I'm sitting on a train with Draco, miles away from Wiltshire, from that hell that we were supposed to call home, and I feel no regret whatsoever. I hold Draco's hand beside me. He's resting his head against the train window, finally sleeping. It's been so long since he's been able to just close his eyes and fall asleep; I think it was because of his environment. He looks so quiet. Anyway, we're on our way to Diagon Alley—leaving the wands behind was a smart idea, but we'll need new ones if we want to keep running. Thankfully that old wandmaker is so decrepit that he won't see through us. I'm hoping that maybe we'll get different models this time, although I suppose getting something similar wouldn't be bad either. I just don't want to be recognized. All the effort and thought I put into this escape had made anything suspicion-raising immediately ridiculous.
I've been planning this for months.
At first it started as a simple idea to take Draco and leave while the war was still going on. Although I knew that was a stupid idea, considering everyone was out checking every crevice for Potter. They'd find us in an instant. So I knew I had to wait. And then after the war we couldn't just disappear because everyone was all focused on catching the Death Eaters and sending them to Azkaban—running away then would just look like we were trying to hide from guilt. So I played. I played the good wife, the loving, supportive, strong wife that would stand by her husband no matter what. I really just wanted him sentenced. Throw him into Azkaban and let him rot there for what he's done to my life, my family. Or put him in for at least two years and then let him come back to an empty manor. I was ready for a divorce long before he even was jailed the first time. So, I had to make a getaway. And what better a time than when Lucius was going on trial? I knew he'd get off. The bloody bastard would always get off. Why? Because his perfect wife was 'the-woman-who-stopped-the-war'. That won him points. It did nothing for me, the one who needed to get away, but for him? It got him out of jail. Perfect Cissy, as Bella would say, Perfect Cissy is always helping others even when she doesn't realize it. It's true though. All those years of her saying that as a child, swearing it wasn't true. It was.
So I took charge for the second time in my life; the first was denouncing the Potter boy dead. Now this. I played everything out perfectly. First, I kept a "diary". The first few parts of it were true of course—I had to be portrayed as the naïve woman who was scared in her own home with the Dark Lord there—but the second part was a little…creative. Lucius and I would fight. Hell yes, we would fight. Battles, screaming matches, bringing Draco to tears. Did he ever tell my son that he was weak? Of course. But he would always do that Slytherin apology, claiming it was the war trauma and the previous Azkaban stay that was making him outburst. So I was forgiving, gentle, understanding. Two days before the trial, I told Draco of my plan. I went to his room in the middle of the night (telling Lucius I heard him crying, of course) and I sat with him. I told him what we were going to do. The minute those guards took Lucius off the grounds, we set out.
Draco was a cutter. I found out one horrible day when I found him in the bathroom doing it over the tub. He'd apologized to me so profusely, saying he couldn't help himself, telling me it was his only escape. So that day, I encouraged him to do it one more time before stopping forever; he did it. He slit his wrist, letting his arm bleed out onto the bed. Then I told him we had to act like there was a struggle. I grabbed him, tied a loop around his hands, let him bleed; I then let him free, pushed him to the floor, let him bleed; and lastly, I threw him against the door (all of this was done gently and slowly of course), let him bleed. I had him shake his wrist to send the blood droplets flying. He was actually smiling—smiling at the fact that his last time of succumbing to his depression was literally being used as an escape from what was tormenting him. Next, I pricked my own fingers to leave a few drops of my own blood for investigators to find. I used a hair-loss spell to cause a lot of strands to fall out. And I left them in a messy trail. I sealed Draco's wound and regrew my own hair, but we then had to change our looks. Thankfully, I grew up learning from Andie (who liked to change her hair color often just to annoy Mother) when it came to dress-up. I turned our hair into a soft red color—more reddish-brown. I knew that if anyone recognized our facial shape, they'd immediately think twice about Malfoys choosing anything red (or redheaded, for that matter). I gave Draco my old glasses from my early years. And there—two completely different people.
Draco suggested we cover up the last used spell on our wands. But I was prepared. I brought in a spider and a caterpillar—I used the stupefy curse on the arachnid, Draco stunned the worm. I then threw my wand to the wall like it had been ripped away from me; Draco's went into the drawer where it always rested. We put gloves on. We threw glasses and cups, smashing and shattering them into oblivion. And we laughed. We laughed while we were doing this. We were free. Draco and I ripped our clothes (not entirely ragged, but enough to not look so prim and proper) and made our way out the door, hand-in-hand. I took off my heel and smacked it against the lock until it broke. And then we left. We left it all behind.
So for the past few days, we've been laying low in a way. We slept in a forest one night to get more dirty and convincing. Lots of people were in shambles after the war destroyed their families or homes. We'd fit right into Diagon Alley. We're going to rent a little cottage and live there all on our own. We'll be happy. Draco yawns in his sleep, curling his fingers a little tighter. I can't help but smile. He's so sweet—such a sweet boy. He'll finally be able to leave the mess behind now. The mess that portrayed him as a horrible backstabbing traitor. It feels wonderful to finally be rid of that man and his manor. It's like we're starting over, and it's wonderfully freeing.
And now everyone's going to think that Lucius is responsible. With the evidence I've left, it'll be impossible for him not to be convicted. He'll rot in Azkaban after all.
It's what he deserves for taking away my happiness.