On The Run


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Once he landed after Apparating with Professor Snape, Draco Malfoy began to run as fast as he could. He had no idea where he would go or what he was looking for but the boy knew he just had to run and do it now.

Draco’s breath was catching in his throat and he could hear his heart beating hard in his chest. Looking behind him, he saw that he had lost his mentor and mentally prayed to whoever was out there for the Professor to have good luck wherever he landed. The man who had taken him under his wing during the past six years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was now no longer in Draco’s line of sight. He wondered if he would ever see the Professor again.

He slowed down to a jog and eventually felt that if he ran any more, he would collapse and never wake again. Draco stopped abruptly on the dark gravel road and curved over to catch his breath. He stood bracing himself with his hands on his knees which were bent, trying to regain control of his breathing. Once he was able to make the queasiness subside, he broke down emotionally. Realising he was completely isolated in the middle of this deserted road hit him like a ton of bricks.

I feel so alone right now. I have nowhere to go for help and even if I did, no one in their right mind would take me in. I almost murdered the Headmaster this evening!

The thoughts were flying through Draco’s mind and he felt himself slowly losing control. Feeling the bile rise in the back of his throat, he collapsed onto the gravel road in defeat, rocking himself while he cried. Twenty-four hours ago, he was ready to end the life of the old man and not only that, but he had been excited as well! Now the image burned in the forefront of his mind of Dumbledore’s body laying below the Astronomy tower made his body shake. By this point he was crying so hard he was coughing, trying to breathe.

He did not know what good it would do to get emotional like this but it felt better than screaming when there was no one to hear him. Emotions that he had kept bottled up for so long were finally surfacing and Draco did not hold anything back.

Scenes from the evening began to fly through his subconscious and he began to ask himself where things began to go so utterly wrong.

The Death Eaters. I never should have led them onto the school grounds. Had I thought it through, I would have seen how disastrous it would have ended. No good could have ever come from tonight’s plans…

Draco began to wipe his eyes, trying to get a hold of emotions. He knew that if he was found in his current condition, the Dark Lord would make it ten times worse. He would give him something to truly cry about, most likely in the form of the Cruciatus curse. By this point, he was almost hyperventilating but the tears had finally ceased. Draco’s entire body was shaking at the thoughts of what would happen if he ever found his way to the Dark Lord again.

Laughter.

Ridicule.

Scorn.

He would be the mockery of the Death Eaters, assuming he lived long enough to see them laughing at him. A simple task – the Headmaster was unarmed, for Merlin’s sake! Professor Dumbledore was practically taunting him, telling him to get his job over with because, as he had reminded Draco several times during their conversation, he had been rendered wandless.

Draco felt like a failure. He failed his master and he failed his family name as well. The Malfoy name was something to be proud of. It was held in both fear as well as high regard throughout the wizarding world.

My father’s reaction.

The thought of it made his stomach turn. Lucius was already locked up in Azkaban. The Dementors feed off of the prisoners emotions, which, until now, Draco assumed his father could keep a pretty good hold of. If Lucius had gotten word of his son’s failure to carry out his task, he had a hunch his father might actually go crazy and allow the gloom of the prison to get to him.

It was very un-Malfoy like but then again, so was failure. Draco did not think his night could get much worse. Of course, if you asked Lucius, thinking was not something Draco excelled in, either.

Standing up, he felt as if he were suddenly no longer alone. Blinking hard a few times, he thought he began to imagine a green glow coming from somewhere behind him but it soon vanished. He turned around and jumped as he was greeted by an eerie green glow coming from a building which, he could swear, was not there a minute ago. He blinked, believing that he had most certainly lost his mind now, as places don’t just appear out of nowhere.

The Green Dragon.

From the outside, the building looked as if it were hundreds of years old but not in an antique sort of way. It made him think about a large shack, if there was such a thing.

It reminds me of somewhere that Weasley might live.

Draco laughed to himself and then for the first time he felt a twinge of guilt for thinking such thoughts about his red-haired classmate. Looking around, Draco wondered if he too would have to resort to that sort of lifestyle after tonight’s incident. He shuddered at the thought and forced it out of his mind for the time being. He felt his survival instinct kick back in and in one fluid motion, he had his wand in his hand. He suspected that if there was a building, there would most likely be people inside.

Draco observed his new surroundings and came to realise a few things. First and foremost, he was absolutely exhausted. It was getting difficult to ignore his aching joints. The building, magic or not, did not seem to be an inn as much as a simple pub which implied that sleep on an actual bed may still not be in his immediate future. Seeing that there was the possibility of food beyond the doors in front of him gave way to a second thought and that was the fact that he was starving. A low gurgling noise came from somewhere deep within the realms of his stomach and he began feeling queasy again. He was fairly certain that this time the nausea he was fighting was from hunger issues and not nerves.

Weighing his odds of running into a ministry official out in the middle of nowhere, Draco took a cleansing breath and walked cautiously towards the large mahogany door. As he took each step, he could hear the sounds of the gravel crunching beneath his shoes and far off in the distance, he heard the sounds of crickets chirping. He could not understand how the world can go on in such harmony after a night like the one he had just taken part in and he cursed the crickets for singing their song.

As he reached out to grab the brass handle, he stepped back to watch it open on its own. Seeing that this was indeed a magical place, Draco was not sure if he should feel better or more on guard. He opted for the latter. It was too soon after the fiasco at school to let his guard down.

Ch. 2 - New Surroundings

The youngest Malfoy walked into the mysterious building and discreetly looked in all directions, trying to see if he recognised any signs of wizards watching for him, dark or otherwise. From what he could tell, the pub was completely deserted, with the exception of the barkeep.

He had expected more of a musky smell, judging by the outer appearance of what he thought was an aged building, but when he walked in, he was greeted by the smell of freshly cut wood. It was as if the outside was a façade yet in actuality, a brand new building.

Relaxing just a little once he realised he was in fact, alone, Draco approached the man tending the bar. He opted to keep his hood up but maintained eye contact as he spoke. As he opened his mouth, he kept telling himself, ’Be polite, Draco. No sense in making a complete stranger believe you are a complete buffoon until he gets to know you better’.

“Excuse me, sir… do you mind me asking where I am? I seem to be a bit lost.� Draco chose his words carefully. They were to the point, yet did not give the stranger the impression that he was weak or needy.

Giving a gentle smile, the man nodded at him. “Yes, it certainly appears that way, doesn’t it?� He continued to wash the glasses as if they were engaged in a lovely conversation. He wore a face which was covered with the lines of age and in the back of Draco’s mind, he thought he looked like he was probably somebody’s grandfather.

Irritated with the man’s repetitious nature of answering questions, the boy almost growled his response, “Look, I am in no mood for games. I just want a simple answer to a simple question.�

’So much for politeness,’ he thought.

He spat the words out to the man who stood casually on the other side of the counter, wiping down the dusty glasses. Draco was feeling very defensive and short tempered. Together, they made for an explosive combination, especially coming from a Malfoy.

His nastiness did not seem to disturb the man tending the bar. He simply continued to watch his most recent visitor with a relaxed look upon his aged face. “This place is where those with heavy hearts and souls come to rest. What can I get for you, boy? First drink is on the house because, to be quite honest, I think you could use one!�

Draco looked at the man and began to wonder to himself if he was implying an alcoholic beverage or just a drink in general. He thought it best to test his theory and asked, “What do you recommend?� This made the other man smile, which he seemed to do quite a bit. It was, to be quite honest, beginning to irritate the young traveler.

“I have been told I serve the finest Firewhiskey from several people and trust me when I say I have seen them all. Let’s start with a glass of it and we can go from there.� The man placed the glass which he had, by this point, thoroughly polished, in front of the blonde boy and filled it halfway with the beverage.

Draco watched the man prepare his drink in front of him. He didn’t notice anything shady about the Firewhiskey. It seemed to come from an authentic bottle, not man-made so he doubted anything questionable could have been slipped into it. He accepted the glass graciously and drank it quickly, feeling the burning sensation down the back of his throat.

It hadn’t been the first time he had a drink this strong and the man at the bar was right – it was very good. Once the glass was drained of the brown liquid, Malfoy placed the glass down on the surface of the bar and looked the man in the eye.

“What do you have for a person to eat around here?� Draco was starting to realise that he had drank the Firewhiskey very rapidly and on an empty stomach. He was hoping to counterbalance the effects before he was too far gone. The odds weren’t high for an inn to appear out of nowhere as this pub had done so. It seemed any effects from his drink would have to be slept off outside.

Before answering, the bartender extended his hand out to Draco who simply looked at it. “The name is Blenkinsop Waterbut. I am the owner of this establishment. I didn’t catch your name.�

Glaring at the man through narrow eyelids, Draco responded bitterly, “I didn’t give one. Besides, my name is unimportant and there is no way in hell that I could even begin to remember yours so I guess we’ll just skip the pleasantries.�

The owner looked at Draco with a knowing look as if he saw people like him all the time and let the words just roll right off his shoulder. “First off, you can call me Ken. Secondly…� Ken handed Draco a menu which looked to be handwritten. “This should answer your original question.� He turned to face the glasses hanging above the bar and began to clean them once again as Draco looked over the menu.

After a minute or so of pondering the options laid out on the menu, Draco looked up with a look of puzzlement. Ken smiled and urged him, “Go ahead and ask. There are a lot of original recipes on that menu from past travelers. You are free to leave one of your own favorites if you would like.�

Grunting his irritation at the man, he responded, “No, I would not, I was about to ask what in Merlin’s name ’Porcupine meatballs’ were but now I don’t know if I care to find out. I can only imagine the riff-raff that have been here before me.�

Laughing, Ken said, “Oh, those were some of the best meatballs I have ever had. The gravy makes it absolutely perfect! They make excellent leftovers as well. Care for a try?�

Draco shuddered. “I think I might skip it this time.� He used his finger to skim over the menu once again.

“I’ll take some of your chicken salad, no dressing. For my main course I will have some pot roast and mashed potatoes with carrots. Oh, and a butterbeer this time around.� He handed Ken the menu back and focused his attention on some interesting fungus growing from under his nail.

Once Ken was out of sight, Draco closed his eyes and tried to focus on where he would go from there. He was curious why he had not seen the Green Dragon earlier as he approached it but dismissed his concerns as paranoia. He allowed himself to take in his surroundings briefly and in that time, he began to focus on the music humming in the background. It had a very calming effect on him and he began to feel his muscles relax after a bit of listening. Perhaps all he needed was some time off his feet and something in his stomach to curb his nerves.

I’m sure the Firewhiskey helped in calming my nerves as well, Draco’s inner voice reminded him. The aftertaste was strong and his eyes were beginning to sting. His tongue swept the inside of him mouth and he realised how hungry he was.

Before he could formulate another thought, his meal had arrived.

Breakfast?

Lunch?

He had no clue what time it was. He vaguely recalled the darkness around him outside but he was unaware if it was after sunset or before dawn that he had entered the pub. He dove right in to his meal and as he chewed, he found his mind a bit clearer and made another attempt at formulating some sort of a plan for his very bleak looking future.

What allies do I have left? Professor Snape? Will he turn me in and if so to which side?

He stopped chewing for a brief moment and began to change his line of thought.

More specifically, which side do I feel more strongly about now?

Chapter 3 - Peace Has A Price

Draco remembered back to the past evening when he had the Headmaster staring down the tip of his wand before he died and what had been said. Dumbledore had offered to hide him as well as his parents from any harm attempted by the Dark Lord. He began to wonder if it would make more sense for him to take him up on his offer, wishing someone would just tell him what to do.

As he finished his food, he sat back in his chair, sipping the mug of butterbeer in front of him. He allowed himself time to savor the meal and admitted that it was quite good. It reminded him of his mother’s pot roast (usually cooked by their house elves) that he used to love so much. Although he was sufficiently stuffed, he felt his mouth water at the thought of the dish.

Seeing that he had cleaned his plate of any leftover food, Ken approached Draco and asked if he would like some dessert. The boys’ eyebrows went up in interest and asked what he had to offer. Not many people knew about Draco Malfoy’s sweet tooth and with no one around, he felt perfectly fine allowing himself to splurge a bit.

“Do you have anything chocolate?� he asked.

Ken’s face lit up and he queried, “Do you prefer extremely sweet, bitter or somewhere in between?� Before Draco had an opportunity to respond, he added, “Oh, and do you like whipped cream?� Ken looked as if he were building the perfect dessert for his guest in his mind as he asked each question.

Draco did not waste time thinking for too long. “I love whipped cream but I also prefer to see what I am eating. I am not a fan of cocoa in a dessert, only in a mug but I despise extremely sweet chocolate.� He shuddered at the idea once he spoke of it.

The old man snickered and clasped his hands in front of him. “I have the perfect thing. I’ll be back shortly.� He turned around and levitated Draco’s dirty dishes, charming them to the kitchen ahead of him. After a few seconds of silence, the boy got up and decided he would look around. There was no one else there to pester him and now that his stomach was appeased until dessert arrived, he thought he would get a better idea of where he was.

When he stood from his chair, Draco allowed himself a very satisfying stretch. As he reached up, he heard several bones make popping sounds. Comfortable, he then turned to see what was behind him and, from what he could tell, there were several framed pictures. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be pictures of previous visitors. They were all eating or laughing with Ken and, he noticed, each visitor was alone.

Draco began to wonder what sort of place he had stumbled upon when he saw one of the pictures near the top of the wall. It showed two men, deep in discussion. Neither man was smiling but one of them had an unmistakable twinkle to his eyes. Staring at the picture and watching the men talk, Draco’s eyes got to be quite large when he recognised the man as Albus Dumbledore.

“Merlin, I can’t escape the man, even in death!� he said out loud. Hearing a light chuckle behind him, he turned to find himself face to face with Ken. Pulling himself away from the wall, Draco allowed the old man to lead him back to his table. In front of him was the oddest dessert he had ever seen.

Sensing his uncertainty, Ken explained, “It’s a simple recipe, really. Chocolate cookie wafers with a layer of homemade whipping cream between each one. Cookie, cream, cookie, cream and so on. Once you have a log-like shape, cover the remainder of it in a thick layer of whipped cream and keep it in a cold place for twelve hours or so. That will keep the whipped cream fresh but allow the dessert to soften. Cut it diagonally as shown and it is absolutely divine.�

Looking at the man, Draco thought he looked very proud of his concoction. Unable to resist, he asked, “Is this one yours or did it come from another traveler?�

“I’m afraid I cannot take credit for this one. This came from a young girl who was named Andromeda.� Ken laughed as he watched the boy almost choke on his food.

Clearing his throat, Draco stuttered, “What was her last name?� Ken apologised for not knowing but pointed her out on the wall of pictures and Draco watched his aunt laughing with the old man.

'This world just keeps getting smaller and smaller', he thought.

As his visitor finished his dessert, Ken motioned back up towards the portrait gallery. “Albus Dumbledore is a good man, he is. He has a thing for sweets, like you. Asked for every candy recipe that I had ever come across.� The memory made the old man laugh but he stopped when he looked down at the young man standing next to him.

“Dumbledore died last night.� stated Draco in a monotone. The Slytherin could not understand why it was so difficult to get to words out and looked confused when his host gave a silent chuckle.

“Why are you laughing, you crazy old man? You truly are an odd duck, aren’t you?� He looked disgusted at the lack of concern on the man’s part.

“My boy, you truly are too young to really appreciate everything Albus has been through in his very long and blessed life. He told me that night in the picture there that he saw death as a new adventure and a way for him to watch over all those he cared about. I am sure his feels very free now. I wouldn’t mourn him so much but celebrate his life and what you learned from him.�

Irritated that the man decided to lecture him on his former Headmaster after the evening he had been through, Draco asked how much he owed for his food. He had to get some fresh air.

“Here, young friend. Do not worry about paying me for feeding you as you obviously needed the nourishment. Feel free to take your time and rest if you need to. There is a bed that you are welcome to use in the back.� He motioned towards the part of the building that Draco had not ventured to yet. “If you choose to sleep, I will have breakfast waiting for you in the morning. The room is not fancy but it’s clean and quite comfortable.�

The boy thought about the offer and decided that maybe a few hours rest would not hurt him. He told Ken what he liked to eat at breakfast and the man bade him a good rest as he disappeared to the kitchen to clean up. Once he was out of sight, Draco placed some money on the table. As kind as the gesture was, the Malfoys did not accept charity.

Draco walked cautiously towards where the bed was supposed to be waiting. As he turned the corner, he was overwhelmed by the strong desire he had for the small bed in front of him, his aristocratic attitude long gone. He found that he was so tired he did not even bother taking advantage of the clothes left for him to change into to sleep in.

When Draco awoke the next morning – or he thought it was somewhere around morning time – he felt more refreshed than he had in weeks. He had tossed and turned a short while before falling asleep but something allowed his mind to rest and catch up on some much needed slumber. He rubbed his eyes and looked around, reacquainting himself with his surroundings. Reaching for his cloak, he caught the scent of eggs, bacon and biscuits and looked over to be greeted by a tray full of food with a note.

He adjusted his shoes on his feet and stood to retrieve the note, curious as to what it contained. He almost laughed when he saw that Ken had enclosed a sheet of parchment as an invitation to share any recipe that Draco felt like sharing for future travelers. He placed it down and began to eat his breakfast quickly. He couldn’t let anyone find him here and with the disadvantage of daylight, Draco did not feel safe in a shack in the middle of nowhere.

Taking the final bite of his meal, he picked up the few belongings he had and left a note thanking Ken for his hospitality. His father had always told him one could not have too many acquaintances and despite the fact that his host had irritated him with silly stories about travelers past, Draco enjoyed not being judged by someone right away. Ken did not ask questions and seemed to respect privacy. In turn, Draco respected him. He signed the note and on the bottom scrolled one more thing:

PS: This is an old family recipe for my favourite pot roast. I used to help my mum make it growing up and as a thank you for your hospitality, I will share it with you. I know now my life’s path and I wish you success in your ventures.
- D.M

Draco folded the note and slipped it under his dirty dishes. He knew where he had to go next but it was not going to be an easy trip, nor would it include a welcome reception. Taking one last look around, he walked to the door and turned the handle. He was shocked to be greeted with bright sunlight and came to realize that he was back outside. Without looking behind him, he closed the door and took a few steps away from the building.

“What the hell? What kind of place is this?� he thought.

Turning around to go inside and ask why the building now opened to the exterior, Draco gasped when he saw that the Green Dragon was no longer there. He wondered what kind of magic the pub held and stood rooted in the same spot for a solid minute or so before bringing himself back to reality.

“That was unusual. Well, I suppose it served its purpose.�

Taking a deep breath, Draco closed his eyes as he stood on the deserted road and just listened for a minute. He heard the birds chirping and the light morning breeze flutter through the leaves of some surrounding trees. He seemed to catch himself relaxing because in an instant, the boy snapped his eyes open and straightened his posture, reaching into his cloak for his wand.

He had almost taken the chance and tried to find a member of the Order to take him in for protection but knew he would always be hunted by the Dark Lord regardless and opted to end any manhunts once and for all.

“Here goes nothing,� he said to no one in particular. Draco pulled his wand out and taking a shaky breath, he placed it on the Dark Mark branded on his arm, saying the incantation to bring him to Lord Voldemort.

Draco assumed once the Dark Lord got a hold of him - especially after the fiasco at Hogwarts - that he would not live to see another day. He was sure that with some well placed curses or simply one major one, he would be gone from this world. Draco thought it a fitting price to pay after remembering all who he had wronged or hurt.

Draco’s incantation had transported him to a dark forest that was full of trees which seemed to be thousands of years old. He looked around and heard three words from his master that sent his blood running cold.

“You failed me.�

The boy wished the evil entity in front of him could hear his final thought as he was hit by the green jet of light but Dark Lord was gone soon after the spell was cast.

Draco Malfoy's body was lying on the forest floor with a look of peace and wide open eyes. His spirit flickered above before disappearing and he whispered to no one in particular, “But now I am finally free.�