Thanks for staying with me soo far.....This is about half way through now...

Enjoy...

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Chapter Seven

Next morning Draco was awoken by winter sunshine streaming through the room’s only window. He opened his eyes and blinked. He lay on his back – still in his clothes – he looked up to the ceiling at the weird sister’s posters he had stuck there three years ago with a permanent sticking charm. Next to them a dragon strut around the poster, breathing fire and lifting itself into the fake sky. Draco sighed wishing for a moment that he could fly away like his namesake.

He sat up and stretched. He looked across at the mirror hanging on the wall. A young man stared back at him, this pale face tinged with grey, his white-blond hair messy and unkempt. His suit creased. He rubbed his eyes and stood up. He pulled off his clothes and walked into his bathroom.

He stood under the shower for several minutes, the warm water cascaded down his pale flesh, soothing aching muscles, cleansing his skin and refreshing his brain. He got out of the shower a few minutes later – he dried himself and walked back into his room.

He looked in his wardrobe. Besides his old quidditch robes and school uniform – it was full of row after row of muggle suits in various shades of black and grey. His father had insisted that if he were to dress in muggle clothes they would have to come from the best tailors on Saville Row.

He smiled – his wardrobe was worth more then Weasley’s whole house. His smile died as he remembered flying through the air around the house blasting it with fire – he had accompanied Aunt Bella, Greyback and the others that day – a fully fledged death eater.

Feeling thoroughly miserable, Draco dressed, crept down the hall way and down the staircase. The house was surprisingly silent. He heard hushed whispers from the drawing room.

"He should have been allowed to stay at the school." His mother was saying.

"He couldn’t. The Dark Lord insisted,…" his father replied.

He had heard enough and crept away from the door and off into the bowels of the house. He stopped at a small door behind a statue of one of his ancestors. He pushed the door open and walked through it and down into the kitchens.

The female house elf there greeted him. Draco sat down at a small table and looked out of the small grimy windows, out into the grounds. The elf put a breakfast out in front of Draco moments later. Toast, jam, cereals, bacon, sausages, eggs, fried bread tomatoes and juice. He picked up the cutlery and began to eat hungrily.

The elf took his empty bowls and plate away and put a steaming mug of brown liquid down in front of him. This was the reason he always took breakfast down here. He took hold of the mug and downed the contents, the coarse sludge rolled down his throat. Coffee was its name. A muggle drink he had been introduced to by other half-blood Slytherin's and this was his dirty little secret.

He left the kitchen and the Manor house by the back door. He’d thrown on his winter coat and travelling cloak and strode down to the broom sheds. Inside, chained up to the wall stood his Nimbus 2001 racing broom. He unlocked the chain and took hold of the broom, taking it outside.

He climbed on and kicked off. The broom climbed and within seconds he was high in the sky. He roared with pleasure at the freedom of it. He sped over snow-covered fields, forests, houses and towns. He rolled the broom and put it into tight turns, revelling in it’s precision and speed. He didn’t want to stop; in fact he could have carried on forever, not looking back, away from the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters.

It wasn’t long until London came into sight. Draco smiled – he swooped down into Knockturn Alley and up to number 24, his family’s apartment. He left his broom and travelling cloak inside, picked up a roll of muggle money left on the mantle piece for ‘emergencies’ and walked out of the apartment. Down through Knockturn Alley and on towards Diagon Alley, out through the Leaky Cauldron and then on into London.

He stalked around London for several hours, alone with his thoughts at last, revelling in the solitude. He passed hurrying muggles, they didn’t know who he was, what he had done. They know nothing of Death Eaters and the Dark Lord. He walked on, his hands in his pockets. His hand curled around the roll of muggle money. He stopped and looked around spotting a café. He looked around, turned and walked into the café.


He sat there coffee in his right hand and sandwich in his left, he rested his elbow on his book. He had tucked the book into his coat pocket before he left. Advanced Transfiguration – he had read the conjuration chapter again and again.

The café was warm; it was also deserted – all except the one waitress. She watched him smiling. He had taken off his coat and jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Draco looked at the waitress out of the corner of his eye, he assumed she was about his age, dressed in black, her t-shirt displaying a band he’d never have heard of, they stood still on the fabric. She had long black and purple hair and wore an assortment of tattoos up her arms.

She picked up a jug of coffee and walked over to him. "Want a refill?" she asked. Draco glanced up at her and nodded. She refilled his mug and sat in the seat opposite him. "Haven’t seen you in here before." She told him.

Draco looked up from his book. "It’s my first time in here." He told her with a smile.

" You look like you could do with some company." The waitress said brightly. "I’m Alice by the way." She held out her left hand.

Draco flinched. He let out a snort of laughter.

"Well if you’d rather be alone?" Alice said standing and turning away.

"No wait!" Draco said, startling himself at the earnest sound of this voice. "I’m sorry," he said his voice shaking. "Please sit down." He sat still, shocked at his words. ‘She’s a muggle’, he chastised himself.

Alice sat back down opposite him and held out her hand again. Draco put down his sandwich and shook her hand. "I’m Draco." He told her.

Alice grabbed his arm suddenly and looked down at his Dark Mark. "Cool Tattoo!” she said smiling.

Draco pulled his arm away from her. She stared at him, a look of confusion on her face. "I’m sorry," she said nervously, her cheeks turning scarlet. "It’s just what I kinda have a few myself." She smiled and flushed again.

Draco couldn’t stop himself smiling either. She was a muggle he reminded himself, stupid, pathetic creatures – he looked at her again – she didn’t seem so different from him really.

Besides, she didn’t know the mark was, hadn’t heard of Death Eaters, the Dark Lord or Harry, Bloody Potter. He took a sip of his drink. It had been so long since he had spoken to someone, even Nott, he couldn’t speak to his friend without the fear that it would get back to the dark lord.

"So what you running from?" she asked him suddenly.

Draco looked up at her startled and nearly spat out his coffee. "I…err what do you mean?" he asked, wiping coffee spittle off his chin.

"Well, posh guys, private school types like you don’t often wonder around this part of London." She told him. "You skiving off school?" she asked with a glint in her eye. "Or running from your folks?"

He looked at her confused. Was she a witch? Did she really know who he was?

She had evidently caught his confused look. "Your suit gave you away, Saville Row right?"

He stopped eating for moment and looked up at her and nodded. "Yes, father insists that I wear only the best." He bragged.

"Very nice, can’t beat a good-looking guy in a sharp suit" She replied dreamily looking him up and down with a glint in her eye.

"You’re flirting with me?" Draco asked, his ego flattered but also a little stunned. He turned back to his food.

"Don’t you want me to? It’s all part of the service." She told him. She put her elbow on the table on cradled her chin on her hand. She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Conscious, of her eyes on him he looked up.

"I also make a very good listener," she said. She put her other elbow on the table and cradled her face in both hands. "You look like someone who needs to get something off his chest."

Draco sighed. Put the sandwich down and pushed it away and turned to face Alice. "I got mixed up in something-" he said choosing his words carefully, "-now I can’t get out of it." He ran his fingers through his white blond hair; what was up with him? Draco! Muggle! His brain screamed at him. He ignored it; it felt good finally admitting it.

"So that’s a tag?" Alice asked sadly, looking at the Dark Mark again.

Draco thought for a moment. "Something like that." He replied.

"What we talking here?" she asked. "Drugs?" Draco shook his head. "A gang?"

Draco looked up at her. "I’ve said too much already."

"I’m sorry." Alice said. "My uncle was mixed up with a gang too, they wanted him to kill someone…" a tear formed at her eye and she wiped it away with her hand. "…He couldn’t do it…and they killed him."

Draco looked up at the muggle. It was hardly the same, if she knew about the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Draco shuddered. He’d said too much, and he was talking to a muggle. If the Dark Lord knew - he waited for the Dark Mark to burn. It hadn’t burnt since he’d left the mansion.

"And you haven’t been asked to kill anyone have you?" Alice asked him. "Is that what you’re running from?"

Draco closed his eyes and his thoughts turned to August and to Rowle.

Only the fire lit the drawing room at Malfoy Mansion, the long table had been moved and the giant blond Death Eater lay on the floor screaming and writhing. The Dark Lord stood close, Draco’s outstretched wand arm shuck violently. He hadn’t been able to do it at first – but the terror of knowing the Dark Lord would turn the curse on him was all he needed to spur him on.

The Dark Lord spoke in a high, cold, merciless voice. "More, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this time.... You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowe another taste of our displeasure.... Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!”

Draco legs were shaking as he aimed his wand again. Sure that the Dark Lord could see the terror he felt in his eyes, Draco turned away from the Dark Lord. "CRUCIO!" he screamed again.

Draco felt sick, the terror he always felt in Voldemort’s company heightened even now.

"No!" he replied quietly. "I’m not running from anything. I can’t – he’ll find me." He looked down at his food, his appetite almost gone. " He’ll kill my family!” He reached over and took hold of the green apple from his plate and bit into it. He tore a piece of flesh from the apple and chewed it noisily.

He glanced at Alice. She sat there smiling. A genuine smile – her eyes sparkled. Draco remained silent for a moment. Unnerved.

"Why did you join?” Alice asked.

Draco looked up at her; he lazily plucked at his left sleeve.

"I wanted revenge against someone.” Draco said. "And they offered me that…."

Alice nodded politely.

"…He put my father in Azk-" he stopped, "-in prison. They needed someone to take his place-"

"Maybe it’s not too late to…"

"…It’s already too late." Draco said holding his head in his hands.

"Draco, no matter what’s happened or what you have or haven’t done" Alice said taking hold of his hand and looking into his grey eyes. Draco started. "It’s never too late to do the right thing."

She stood and turned to leave.

Draco sat back, thinking about what the muggle had said. "Don’t go.” he said his voice cracking.

"I have to Draco Malfoy" She replied. "I have a job to do.” She stood, picked up the jug and walked off back to the counter and out into the back of the café.

Draco stopped and looked up at her, he hadn’t given her his last name. His mind buzzed. He finished his coffee and stood, he put his jacket and coat back on and slid his book back into his pocket. He turned towards where Alice had fled; ready to say goodbye but she was nowhere to be seen. He sighed and left the café.

He trudged up the high street towards the Leaky Cauldron. Thinking about the muggle (?) and what she had said to him. Confused. He was tempted to stay in London at the family apartment that night but as he walked the Dark Mark began to burn. The Dark Lord was called his Death Eaters to him. Draco cursed, and sped up to a run.

He ran through the streets, knocking aside muggles as he ran on at a full sprint. The Dark Mark burnt hotter as he ran on through the Leaky Cauldron, up Diagon Alley and knocked witches and wizards aside as he ran down into Knockturn Alley. He quickly opened the doors to the apartment and ran in, he doubled over panting hard.

He hastily threw on his travelling cloak and picked up his broom. He walked over to the fireplace, lit a fire in the grate and grabbed a hand full of floo powder throwing it into the flames.

He appeared back into the hall at Malfoy Manor. He threw his things down in the hall and went into the drawing room.

He was still panting heavily as he opened the door and walked in. He was the last one to arrive. Silent faces turned to him as he entered the room. His mother and father looked terrified. Draco couldn’t see the Dark Lord and walked further into the room. The door closed behind him.

“Ahhh! Draco.” Came a hissing voice from behind him.

Draco slowly turned and his eyes came to rest on his master. The dark lord’s snake like face smiled. His heart rate sped up; he tried to keep the raising panic at bay. Did he know where Draco had been? He was frozen to the spot by fear. He fell to his knees.

The Dark Lord raised his wand. "Where have you been?" he asked slowly.

Draco glared up at the wand, feeling the blood draining from his already pale face.

“You didn’t come back to me straight away when I called you.” The Dark Lord said with an edge in his voice. He pointed his wand straight at Draco.

“. My lord….” His mother called weakly, before a glance from the Dark Lord silenced her. The Dark Lord grinned and sent a stream of green light towards Draco, the force of the blast threw him backwards and onto the floor, he screamed. The scream echoed in his ears, the pain was threatening to make his brain explode. His mother was screaming too.


After what had seemed like an age the Dark Lord stopped. Draco lay on the floor in agony, every muscle and nerve ending burning with pain. He curled up into a ball, his breath heavy in his ears. He tried to keep his tears at bay as the Dark Lord walked away and sat at the table.

Once the meeting was over, his mother and father helped him up to feet. "Where have you been Draco?" he demanded.

"London," Draco replied weakly. "I wanted to fly, I haven’t had the chance for months." He lied – his voice shaking.

His father led him to a chair by the fireplace and sat him down roughly. He knelt in front of Draco and looked into his son’s eyes with his own grey ones. Draco hadn’t seen his father up close since he had arrived back. He looked tired; his eyes were bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles. "You must be careful, Draco." He drawled. "This isn’t a game, you can’t throw your pieces back in when you’ve had enough." He said quietly.

Draco looked up at his father. He saw his own terror reflected in his face.

Shortly after, Draco trudged up to his room at the back of the house. The following day was Christmas day. He looked though the window at the grounds and night sky beyond. Not that they would be celebrating, the Dark Lord had forbidden the Malfoy’s from decorating their home.

The holidays seemed to last forever. Draco remained in his room for much of it – his thoughts haunting his waking hours and his sleep.

Finally, the Dark Lord had gone off for a couple of days. Bella mopped in her room, waiting for his return. Draco’s parents had taken the opportunity to have a small celebration in the kitchens. They ate, drank, exchanged gifts and for a few hours the Death Eaters, Dark Lord and Potter were all forgotten.