His bones ached, and as the bus crashed to a halt, Draco stretched. He’d stopped the childish tears and cultivated a careful attitude of stony indifference to try and mask the all-consuming panic that was eating him up from inside. Pulling his robes straight, Draco had nodded a curt farewell to the driver, and stepped on to the pavement. The bus disappeared, and he sat down on a nearby wall.
Draco started laughing.
Here he was, outside Potter’s house, helpless as a Muggle, on the run from his own father with only - he rummaged through his pockets - two Knuts, a yellow coloured Bertie Botts Bean and for some insane reason, a small hand to his name. The hand waved at him. Draco stared intently at the hand before realising suddenly that it had broken off his prototype statue yesterday, when he’d flung the horrible thing across the floor.
He’d been sitting for the sculptor for two months, and the prototype hadn’t been to his satisfaction. Too short. If he’d been a thinker, Draco would perhaps have attached some sort of metaphor to the lonely limb. It symbolised the shattering of his old life, the life that had been so carefully shaped by his father’s wishes.
As it was, Draco dropped the thing on to the floor, and was about to crush it into dust when two very unexpected things happened. The first thing was somebody knocked him roughly on to the pavement, and covered his mouth with their hand. He struggled, and managed to kick out. His assailant went flying backwards, and Draco reached for his wand.
“Petrif- oh, bloody hell,” he said, remembering. The attacker had leapt to his feet, and drawn his own wand. Draco took a deep breath, then ran at him head first, waving his wand wildly. His skull connected with the man’s stomach and both went flying backwards.
“Ow,” he said, stunned.
The second unexpected thing happened when the stranger rolled into a pool of light, cast by the Muggle lamps, and looked up.
Draco Malfoy stared at Sirius Black, and opened his mouth to scream.
Then he thought better of it. Black was a crazy Death Eater, after all. Lucius was also a crazy Death Eater, which made them friends. At least, he hoped it made them friends.
“I’m Draco Malfoy,” he tried, standing up, keeping his voice flat. “Lucius Malfoy’s son.”
“I know,” hissed Black, his voice croaky. “And I won’t let you hurt him.”
“What?” Draco was thrown. “I don’t want to hurt Lucius - I mean, I can’t.” He then remembered who he was talking to, and thought it best not to let on that he’d lost all of his magical powers. “Because I love him so much,” he added quickly, then winced inwardly. Black didn’t seem to care. In fact, he seemed to be looking a lot healthier, and Draco wondered if he’d be able to take him using physical strength alone. Black was taller, and although he was thin Draco could see the muscles on his forearms. Obviously Azkaban came with a members-only gym.
“Harry,” he said shortly.
Ah. Now we’re talking. “Oh, don’t worry,” Draco said in his usual sneering drawl. “I hate Potter as much as the next man - unless the next man’s the Dark Lord, of course,” he said. That had been good - get in how dedicated he was to The Cause. “Idiot associates with Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers - filth, basically.”
Black sighed - not the reaction Draco had been hoping for - and raised his wand.
“No!” he shrieked, aware that he sounded very much like a woman. “Please, don’t kill me, I’m too young to die - I’m unarmed!” Although Black wasn’t exactly the type to care about being chivalrous, he’d betrayed his best friend for Salazar’s sakes. The small hand quivered, and then clambered up Draco’s leg before settling in his pocket again.
“Stupefy,” he muttered.
Everything went black.
*****
“...dangerous, but I had to come and see you.”
He was alive. He was lying on something both hard and cold, a combination that wasn’t particularly comfortable, and he was aware of voices speaking. Draco felt a few drops of rain hit his face, and he cracked open an eye, cautiously.
Nothing, he couldn’t see anything.
“I wish I could go back with you.”
What? He’d know that voice anywhere. It was Potter.
“Well, you can’t,” replied Black, a little roughly. “I wish you could too, and I’ve told Dumbledore a thousand times - no good. Anyway, it looks like we’ve got a more immediate problem to deal with.”
Draco had the awful feeling that he was the more immediate problem. This was all very interesting - Black and Potter seemed to be in league with one another. He had absolutely no idea what was going on - perhaps Black had Potter under some sort of spell, he thought wildly. Maybe he should pretend to be -
“Oof!” he groaned, as someone pulled him to his feet, rather sharply. Light flashed in his eyes, and he blinked, trying to focus.
“Malfoy?” Potter said, his voice incredulous. Draco didn’t think Potter had a right to be incredulous at this stage - after all, he was the one having cosy tea parties in his back garden in the middle of the night with an escaped convict.
That one word - Malfoy - had been all Draco needed to get himself together. No matter what happened, he was a Malfoy. So he shook Sirius Black’s hands away, gave him a glare - which was fairly brave, considering - and stared at Potter, nonplussed.
“Have you lost your mind? This is Sirius Black. He’s here to kill you.”
“Like you care,” was the cold reply. Potter was standing by the back door, hands in his scruffy pockets, hair sticking up in all directions. He wasn’t wearing any shoes, and Draco drew himself up to his full height. At least he was properly clothed.
“I don’t,” he said curtly. “I just want to get out of here alive.”
“Why’re you even here?” Black said, sounding genuinely bemused. “I thought the delightful Malfoy Senior had sent you to attack Harry.”
“No.”
Harry sighed, and sat on the doorstep. “Keep your voice down,” he said quietly. “The Dursley’s’ll hear. Sirius, what do we do now?”
“I’ll have to obliviate him.”
Draco’s eyes widened, and he held up his hands. “Now just hold on...”
“Have you got a wand?”
“Yeah, Dumbledore gave me one.”
“Dumbledore?”
“What’ll we do with him?”
“I’ll Apparate him to the town where he lives - he’ll wake up there in the morning. Won’t remember a thing.”
“Wait! You don’t understand!”
“Alright. D’you want me to hold him down?”
“No, I’ll Stun him again.”
“I came here for help!” Draco hissed. The other two looked at him as though he were quite mad.
“The Death Eaters I knew were slightly more inventive,” Black said, quirking an eyebrow.
“I’m not a Death Eater! I came here for help, to get Dumbledore - I thought you’d know where he lives, he loves you,” Draco said to Harry, unable to resist a bitter smirk.
“Why do you want Dumbledore’s help?” Harry asked, standing up. It was obvious that neither trusted Draco, and frankly he didn’t blame them. He really didn’t want to tell them what had happened - couldn’t, without landing his father in it. Although, by the sounds of things they already thought Lucius Malfoy was in it up to his eyeballs.
“If you tell me why you’re conspiring with Black, I’ll tell you why I need to contact Dumbledore,” Draco said, trying to sound completely unconcerned.
Sirius and Harry looked at one another, and some unspoken argument seemed to be taking place. Black won, because Potter cast Draco a hateful look before sitting down again.
“We aren’t ‘conspiring’, Draco, as you so eloquently put it,” said Black. He sounded tired. “I am, in fact, innocent.”
Draco snorted.
“It’s the truth. Peter Pettigrew was the Potter’s secret keeper, not me. He betrayed them, he killed all those Muggles.”
“How? How did he get away with it?” Draco asked, interested despite himself.
“Because he’s an illegal Animagus.”
That didn’t really explain anything. However, if Pettigrew was an Animagus, a small animal, and no-one knew about it - he could have blasted the street then changed, without anyone noticing - leaving Black there, alone.
“Oh,” he said, understanding. There was a moment of silence, and Potter made an impatient noise.
“Tell us, then.”
This was unbearable. Best to get it over and done with.
“I can’t do magic. I - I said something to Lucius, and I think he’s cursed me.”
Probably not wise to mention the fact that he’d rebelled against being a Death Eater and Lucius’ best friend, He Who Shall Not Be Named, had stepped in to give Draco some tough parenting.
“And?” Harry said, looking entirely unimpressed. “It’ll probably wear off in a few days.”
Draco felt stupid. Lucius had said as much. He’d completely over-reacted.
“You’ve completely over-reacted,” Potter said, and Draco gave him a sharp look.
“I don’t think so.”
Both boys turned to face Black, who was frowning. “Spells like that - toying with another person’s magical powers - they’re very dangerous. There’s no telling how long this could last, exactly - why did you leave home?”
“Because I panicked,” Draco lied smoothly. It was only a white lie - he had panicked. The real reason he’d left was to get away from Lucius. If he wasn’t with Lucius, he couldn’t be forced into becoming a Death Eater. Only he couldn’t tell them any of that.
“Hmmm.” Black gave him a considering stare. “I’d be happier if you went to see Dumbledore.”
“But -“
Draco gave Potter a smug smile. Annoying Git 0, Draco Malfoy 1.
“In the morning. Until then, you can sleep in Harry’s room, on the floor.”
Bloody hell.
“But!” they chorused, and it was Sirius’ turn to smirk.
“It’s only for one night.”
“Sirius, the Dursely’s’ll go nuts. And if you think I want that in my room - he’ll attack me when I’m asleep!” Harry was saying.
“I can’t do magic, Potter, remember? I knew you were stupid, but really...besides, I’m a Malfoy. I’m not spending the night on a floor, in some Muggle hovel,” sniffed Draco.
“Look, I have to go. Just one thing...” Black raised his wand, pointed it at Draco and muttered something unintelligible. Draco felt a warm sensation, starting at his feet, and heard Potter snigger.
“What did you do?” he asked angrily, which only made Potter snigger again.
Black gave a satisfied smile. “There’s no magical residue, he’s telling the truth. Don’t let him leave the house, Harry, and I’ll get in touch with Dumbledore right away. He should drop by sometime tomorrow. This is goodbye for now, but I’ll see you soon, I promise.”
Harry jumped up, and the two hugged. Draco felt embarrassed at this open show of affection, and looked away.
When he looked back, Black had gone. Excellent.
“You better come in,” Harry said grudgingly, and gestured towards the open door. Compared to his own house, the one that famous Harry Potter occupied really was a hovel. Draco had never been inside a Muggle house before, and just as he was about to step over the threshold, he remembered an old saying. Curiosity killed the cat. He made a mental note not to touch anything, and, far too tired to argue, followed his worst enemy.