Where Will You Go

Chapter 6 - No One Left

By Celestial


But where will you go?
With no one left to save you from yourself
You can’t escape
You can’t escape

"Oi! Malfoy! Watch where you’re going you bloody bastard!" Blaise Zabini dropped his hand to his bruised ribcage after being barreled into on his way to Potions. Draco had slammed into him after rounding a corner at full speed. Cursing under his breath, Blaise held his side and entered his class.

Draco hurtled down the stairs, tears blurring his vision. Blinded and choking back sobs, he raced through the corridors, knocking into students, teachers, and everything that entered his path. He threw open the heavy doors of the main entrance, and breathed in the fresh after-rain scent. Voices called his name, but Draco continued his flight to the side of the Lake. He slipped and fell into the muddy grass, and there he lay, watching the stars swirl about the sky.

He had opened a channel between Harry and Voldemort. He had helped Voldemort. He could enter Harry’s mind as he pleased, and possibly, possibly drive Harry insane. And where would that leave Draco? Visiting Harry in St. Mungo’s like Neville did with his parents? Draco howled in frustration. Everything he touched went to shit. And now Harry, the only thing left worth fighting for, was about to be defeated. He wished he never went to Harry for help. He could’ve pretended to hate him, and then joined his father and the other Death Eaters.

Draco’s head pounded. He lay soaked to the bone and covered in mud. He heard footsteps approaching, but he made no effort to acknowledge the person. He felt a chill as the person stood over him.

"Malfoy," came a deep voice.

Draco looked up in shock. Ron Weasley looked down at him warily, before offering his hand. Draco took it cautiously. Ron’s eyes looked red, as if he had been fighting off tears. They stared at each other, each as surprised as the other that they were making contact.

"Listen, Malfoy, I know about you and Harry. Everyone does, or at least suspects it. And Hermione…" At this he swallowed audibly, "They have her, I know they do. Dumbledore talked to me and wouldn’t tell me directly. He knows I’d go do something stupid like try to rescue her. And Harry…"

Draco looked up at him pained. "It’s all my fault," he whispered.

"Then let’s fix it," Ron demanded. "We can. Nothing used to stop Harry, ‘Mione, and me…Draco let’s try."

Draco looked up at the sky, crazy ideas racing through his mind. It was his fault, and he had to right it. "I know what we can do."


Draco and Ron crept out of their common rooms, brooms in hand. The unlikely pair met up outside by Hagrid’s Hut. They climbed on, and kicked off into the night sky towards Malfoy Manner.


"Tell my father I have come back to join him. Tell him I have realized my foolishness and I beg for his forgiveness."

Twink, the Malfoy’s new house elf, stared wide-eyed at the estranged Malfoy heir before running to find his master. Draco glanced nervously towards the landscaping on the side of the walkway. So far, so good, he thought.

A chill ran down his spine as a low hiss came from the darkness of the doorway. He saw cold, narrow grey eyes boring into his matching ones. His father stepped out of the shadowy parlor of his home.

Home, Draco thought, As if this could be considered a home. His father who had forced him into the Dark Mark and subjected him to a world of hate. His weak mother who had never protected him in fear of Lucius’s violent objections. The sprawling mansion and grounds that he had never enjoyed as a child. The dark rooms where he had studied his ass off his first couple of years at Hogwarts because "Daddy" told him he had to be better than "the Mudblood" and "the-boy-who-wouldn’t-die." Home. He would have rather lived at the Burrow with the lot of bloody Weasley’s than in this paradigm of perfection. Cold, museum-like perfection. Draco fought to keep himself from spitting at his father. As if he was ever a father.

"So, Draco." His father’s voice was just above a hiss. "Decided to come crawling back? Now that you’ve diddled around with Potter and had your fun? What makes you think we want you back, boy? Why would we take such a traitor?"

Draco’s hatred boiled up inside of him, and he put on the best performance of his life. With a malicious smirk, he laughed in his father’s stoic face. Venomously, he began.

"Traitor? Father I am hardly a traitor. I figured out the Dark Mark’s power on my own. I seduced that fool Potter and used him to my liking. He loved me, and I destroyed him. You think Voldemort is the only one who can figure anything out on his own? I brought about Potter’s downfall, Daddy, don’t you forget that for an instant." He spat out his father’s title spitefully.

Lucius stared into his son’s eyes with revulsion. At once, his expression changed.

"So, you have decided to return. Very well, then. You will be happy to learn that tonight Voldemort plans to finish destroying your little playmate, Potter. I am sure your presence at tonight’s meeting will be greatly appreciated."

Draco pursed his lips defiantly. "Very well. I shall attend."

A wicked smile spread over Lucius’s face. "I knew you would uphold the family honor, Draco. You are not a fool. Welcome home."

With one last glance at the bushes, Draco entered the house he had been shunned from only months ago, and continued with his plan to save the man he loved.


Hours passed, and from the bushes Ron finally saw movement in the Malfoy’s parlor. Draco and his father, dressed in matching Death Eater cloaks, headed towards the door. Narcissa Malfoy had appeared on the stairs, racing down to hug her son. His father even showed a hint of pride in Draco, who had finally come around. Or so he thought. Ron’s back ached from crouching under the invisibility cloak, vials of poison hidden deep in his pockets.

Draco emerged from the doorway of the house with his broom. His father had his also, for Draco was still too young to apparate. Ron watched them lift off, and after a few minutes, followed suit, his chest tight and his heart pounding. This was it.

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