The sun had just hidden itself behind the unending horizon as the moon’s dance began. The pale white light did little for illuminating the path. Dark shadows of buildings and trees were cast upon the ground, creating large, false images of horror and fear. Not one sound could be heard within miles of the barren and empty town.
A booming sound like a gunshot shattered the glassy silence. Grunts of pain emerged from a dark figure that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, crouched on all fours, shaggy blonde hair obscuring his face from view. He was shaking all over as he fought gravity, attempting to rise from the harsh cement. Breathing in rough gasps, he fought the endless pain until he was standing on his own two feet. Using whatever willpower he had left, he raised his head and looked around.
Where the bloody hell am I? he thought, his vision growing increasingly more blurred from exhaustion. His body was threatening to fall to the ground. He battled the urge to pass out, hoping to find somewhere to stay as he moved forward forward, grunting with each pained step.
What is this place? he wondered as he continued to slump down the road, the dark shadows and complete
silence eerily creeping up on him. A shred of fear sliced through his body as he thought he saw something whip past him in the darkness. Swallowing hard as the fear chilled his blood, he looked around. For the second time that day, he feared for his life.
No! Don’t think about that, he scorned himself, trying his very best not to close his eyes. Every time he did blinked a black canvas of everlasting darkness played in his head. And only one person was the star of the motion picture of his mind. Him. His so called roll model; the one who he had looked up to for so many years of his childhood. The one who had constantly fed him lies upon lies; the one who caused fear to spread through his veins just at the mention of his name.
Lucius Malfoy. His ‘father’, the one who was supposed to care for him, but he never did. The only thing Lucius Malfoy cared about was, undoubtedly, himself. The lingering fears overpowered him and clicked the film of memories to life. He stopped in his tracks as the events from just moments ago came back into consciousness.
“You’re willing to give it all up for her?” Lucius Malfoy sneered in digust. “A disgusting, lowlife, worthless piece of filth?” His voice had an icy, hysterical flare to it. Every wrinkle and curve of his face seemed horrid and magnified.
A solitary eyebrow was casually raised, questioning; intimidating. His lip curled upwards threateningly as his fists lay clenched by his sides. He wore back robes, clashing with his pale skin and sharp gray eyes. Eyes that held hatred, disappointment, and most of all, the wish of seeing the boy before him drop dead. He stared down until his son, Draco, merely nodded, his jaw set in determination.
“Pitiful,” Lucius stated, spitting down upon Draco’s feet. The smirk was completely gone from his once graceful features, but his cold demeanor remained. “We’ll just have to see about that, then.”
Draco looked up to his fathers eyes defiantly. He knew what was coming next, but for once in his life, he wanted his father to look into his eyes as he did his cowardly business. He wanted to force his father to see the pain that he himself caused with his sick ways. He wanted him to see his son, his replica, writhe in pain because of the spineless deeds he performed.
“You know, Father,” Draco interrupted the steely silence, “one day, you might regret this. One day, you might regret a lot of things.” He took a dramatic pause and looked around the large and lavish living room in which he had grown up. “I hope you die a painful death before you reach that day. That way, when you’re rotting in hell, you’ll at least have something to think about.” Draco grit his teeth through the entire statement, staring coldly into his father’s eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he spit down onto his father’s feet, mimicking Lucius’ earlier act.
Lucius’ eyes fired up in anger as he gracefully clasped his hand around his wand. “If there’s one thing I regret in this world, more than anything, it is raising you as if you were worth any of this.” He gestured grandly to his wealth.
Draco, letting the words bounce off him, just glared at his father. He jerked his head upwards and snarled, motioning for him to get on with it.
Lucius cocked an eyebrow and smiled a devil’s smile. “Well, if that’s what you really want.” He raised his wand and pointed it directly at Draco’s heart. “This one’s for her,” he said, slashing a beam of white light at him. Draco fell to the floor in unimaginable pain. It had no affect on Lucius, who kept aiming spells at his own son. A blue light. A red one, next. Yellow. Silver. Orange. Black.
Draco remained on the floor, his body and mind going through countless dark spells of torture. He wished for it all to end. He wished for the suffering and unbearable streaks of pain throughout every shred of his being to come to a halt. And finally, after what seemed like hours of agonizing crawling towards death, it did.
Realizing the pause, Draco used every ounce of power and magic he had left to Apparate away. He couldn’t really focus on where he was to end up, only that he needed to find somewhere safe…
A chill creaked through his body as the flashback ended. He closed his eyes once more, ridding himself of the horrors, and opened them with renewed courage to live. Once again, he set off in search of somewhere to stay.
It would help if I knew where the bloody hell I was! he screamed at himself, frustration mounting upon the already intolerable pain. He walked a few more paces until his knees gave out and he cried out in hopelessness. He fell back down on all fours, supporting his weight with his upper body as much as he could with his arms. He let his head droop down, staring at the cement, taking in the state of himself in the process.
His pants were tattered and ripped in every direction, revealing fresh wounds, blood caked or dripping around the edges. He expected his face looked much the same. His shirt - it’s not really a shirt now, is it? - was completely gone, except for half of a sleeve on his right arm. Beautiful, he thought, I can be the one-sleeved wonder.
Marveling that he could be sarcastic and joking at a time like this, he shook his head and looked back to the scratched cement of the road, following one of the cracks with his eyes. Suddenly, a flash of green appeared in his peripheral vision. Draco cringed, thinking it was a Killing Curse. He froze in anticipation, just waiting for the swift, but certain, death.
Ten agonizing seconds came and went. Nothing. He lifted his head and looked to the source of the light. His jaw dropped and his eyes opened up in disbelief. What in the world is that?
An old hotel, much like the Leaky Cauldron, had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. The building was completely black, or at least it seemed so in the pale moonlight. It was fairly large, four stories with a large balcony and an encasement surrounding each floor. The building looked like it might fall over any second, and yet, there it stood. Draco concluded that it had to be held up by magic.
He sighed in relief. Wizards and witches nearby; surely they could help him. Through the darkness, Draco could make out three words on the rickety sign above the door.
“The Green Dragon,” he said aloud, using his voice for the first time in what seemed like years.
What the bloody hell is the Green Dragon?
Understanding Brings Peace by Sarakime
Chapter Notes: Thanks to the *best* beta ever for betaing this: Ashley (Gryffinpuff)! Also, just know that the title of this story was sparked by a quote from Helen Keller. :) Happy reading!