Chapter 2 - Draco Malfoy's story

It wasn't long before Draco Malfoy woke up.

Harry was sitting on the end of the bed, absent-mindedly reading Curses & Counter-curses: The Guide, and every so often we would glance over the pages at the lifeless man in the bed.

His cuts and bruises were healing, slowly but surely. Some scars were fading, but a lot were still painfully real, and Hermione winced every time she opened up his shirt to take a look at how he was doing.

The rest of the Order had accepted the unconscious guest with hardly any questions, excepting Ron and, Harry suspecting to a certain extent, Tonks. She hadn't said much, but her expression of disdain and shock had been enough. Ron refused to put the past behind him, and he couldn't go a day without making some cutting remark about "Ferret boy", or the "Junior Death Eater upstairs"

Hermione had said she expected him to wake up any time soon, which was why Harry had taken up camp in the bedroom, waiting expectantly for Malfoy to come back to the land of the living. He wanted to speak to him, to ask him what had happened. His curiosity was taking over him.

But he still nearly fell off the end of the bed when an eye suddenly flew open.

"Malfoy?" he asked, uncertainly, mentally preparing himself for what was sure to be an explosion of anger from Malfoy when he saw who was watching over him.

Draco Malfoy opened both his steely grey eyes, and tried, very slowly to sit up. But he soon discovered that this was very difficult, and so he slumped onto the pillow.

"Where – where am I?"

He looked around the room more alertly, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the cracked window panes, and the dirty floorboards. "What is this place?"

He groaned and rubbed his face wearily. When he next opened his eyes, his gaze fell right on Harry.

"POTTER? What the HELL are you doing here?" yelped Draco, sitting up straight and hitting his head on the headboard.

"Well, Malfoy", said Potter – quite loudly, over the noise of Malfoy swearing – "This is my house, so I have every right to be here".

Harry then saw the look on Malfoy's face. It wasn't arrogance or anger - it wasn't a mocking expression. It was simply, fear. Malfoy was terrified.

"Back off, Potter!" whispered Malfoy. "Leave me alone!"

"Malfoy", said Harry, more calmly. "You arrived on my doorstep four days ago, covered in cuts, covered in blood. You then passed out, and you've been unconscious ever since. Hermione and I patched you up, and you've been here ever since."

Malfoy refused to look into Harry's eyes, and instead concentrated on his pale hands, on the criss-crossing lines which decorated his skin.

"Potter – just leave me alone. Just – go", he whispered, as he lifted up his sleeves and saw the red scars which lined his wrists.

"Malfoy -"

"GET OUT POTTER!" he yelled, eyes flashing furiously.

Harry took one look at him, at the pale, scarred, frightened person in front of him – and then left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"Malfoy's awake, Hermione", announced Harry as he sat down on the kitchen chair, which creaked dangerously. Hermione was reading The Daily Prophet, which was spread out over the kitchen table, the moving pictures flickering. Harry noticed, for the first time, the bags under her eyes, and the way she stifled a yawn when he walked in. She was obviously exhausted, but she perked up as soon as Harry spoke.

"Is he? Awake? Well, that's brilliant, isn't it?"

"I'm not sure, Hermione". Harry sat back in his chair, and dazed absent-mindedly at the ceiling.

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Well, Malfoy – he's frightened Hermione. He's bloody terrified. He hasn't said anything, apart from ordering me to get out of my own bedroom."

Harry looked into Hermione's eyes.

"He's changed, Hermione. He's – well, he's broken."

Hermione sighed, and pushed back her hair with her fingers. "Maybe I should go and talk to him. See what's upsetting him."

"Hermione, if you're going to speak to him, I'm going with you. He may be weak and frightened, but he's still Malfoy. I'm not letting you go in there by yourself".

"Fine, Harry. But don't say anything."

"What? Why?"

"He's still Malfoy. And you two – well, you don't really get on, do you?"

Hermione carefully pushed open the bedroom door, and poked her head around it.

"Er – Ma – I mean, Draco? Can I come in?"

"I don't want you here, Mudblood. Leave me alone. Just go", came a whisper from inside the room.

Behind Hermione, Harry waited impatiently while balancing a tray which had a bowl of steaming soup on it. "Hermione -", he hissed.

"I've got food, Malfoy", said Hermione, opening the door a little wider.

No reply.

Encouraged, Hermione stepped into the room, snatching the tray out of Harry's hands. She walked over to the bed, and handed the tray over to Draco.

Without saying thank you, or saying anything – not even anything cutting, Malfoy picked up the spoon and hungrily wolfed the bread and soup down. It was obvious that he was starving.

While Malfoy ate, Harry and Hermione dragged over some chairs to the side of the bed and sat down – glancing at each other every so often nervously. When Malfoy had finished, he pushed the bowl away.

"That was good", he acknowledged, his eyes hid under strands of dirty blonde hair. "Even if a Mudblood made it…"

Hermione could see that Harry was going to react, and so she glared at him angrily, stopping him. Instead, she turned towards Malfoy herself, and spoke in a strained voice. "Malfoy, I saved your life, as did Harry – so I would be glad if you could at least treat us with some respect. At let's start with not using the word Mudblood in the house?"

Draco looked up, and glared at her with his cold silver eyes. She met his stare coolly, and the two held the gaze for some time, before Draco dropped his eyes.

"Right", started Hermione, triumphantly. "Malfoy – why don't you tell us what happened 4 days ago?"

"4 days ago?"

"How did you arrive at Harry's house, covered in blood?"

"I – I don't remember".

It was clear that he was lying, from the way he avoided their gaze, and from the way his voice slightly cracked as he spoke.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Malfoy – you arrived at Harry's house of your own accord. You must have wanted help, of some sort. Tell us what happened. It'll make everything seem better".

"How would you know, you filthy little Mudblood?" spat Malfoy, loathing evident in his voice.

Harry stood up. "Don't you dare call her a Mudblood again, Malfoy", he snarled. "Telling us may not make everything completely fine, but at least then we can help you, we can do something about it. If you refuse to tell us anything, we're going to have to either let you go – and for all I know, you could be attacked again – or we'll have to hand you in to Azkaban. You're wanted, you know. For taking part in Death Eater activities"

"I have had nothing to do with the Death Eaters!" shouted Malfoy, sitting up again.

"Tell us what happened, Draco", whispered Hermione, looking at him. "You're safe here – what you tell us could help us. You do want to help us don't you? I don't think you would have arrived here if you didn't want to".

Draco avoided her eyes, and only said "Don't call me Draco", in a half hearted whisper.

"Well, Malfoy?" said Harry.

Draco nodded slowly, and then started to speak. At first, his voice cracked, but as he carried on, he became more confident.

"It was that night. The night when I – I failed to kill Dumbledore. I was sent back to the Manor, and - he – the Dark Lord was there. He was angry" – Malfoy shivered – "Angrier than I can imagine with me. I failed him, so I had to be gotten rid of.

"He told me that I was going to be his torture victim – I would be kept in the Manor dungeons, and brought out again, time and time again – to be cursed with the Cruciatus curse – until there was nothing left in me -

"I was locked in the dungeons, as he had taken over the Manor by then. My parents – they had to obey him, or they'd be killed instantly. They cared, though – they were crying, I saw them. I've never seen my father cry before that day, before I was dragged into the dungeons.

"I was never brought any food. I was in there for – I don't even remember how long. Day and night weren't separated, it was a blur. Sometimes people were locked there with me, other times I was alone. Completely alone. It seemed as though they had forgotten me, locked down below. I wanted to be forgotten – so I could never be cursed, but at the same time, I didn't want to starve to death in the dark.

And then, they sent for me – him. The Dark Lord sent for me. I made to go into this room, there were lots of candles, and – they, the Death Eaters were standing in a circle with me at the centre. The Dark Lord was smiling. I remember that. He was smiling. It was terrifying.

And then there was so – so much pain"- Tears had started to roll down Draco's cheeks – "It was if I was being attacked with knives again and again, as if something was stabbing me all over. It was excruciating – the pain. I think I was screaming, but I can't remember exactly – all I remember is the pain. It was ongoing, it was everlasting. Even when he stopped cursing me, I could still feel the pain. I can feel it now", Malfoy looked into Harry's eyes earnestly. "Then, all the Death Eaters took their turn. Every single one. They all performed the Cruciatus curse on me, and they all laughed while they did it. Even – my Father. He didn't want to, but he had to – otherwise the Dark Lord would kill him and mother. So he had to look at me and Crucio me. My own Father.

"After they had finished with me, I was locked back in the dungeons. I don't remember for how long, all I know is that whenever I heard the slightest noise – I would almost break down in fear. I know, I know I'm weak, I know I'm a coward. But you have no idea how much pain was inflicted on me and for how long he carried it on."

Here, Malfoy stopped speaking for a bit, as if he was pausing to regain his thoughts. Harry glanced at Hermione, and saw that her face was pale in horror. Harry had never thought that he would feel sorry for Malfoy, but looking into Malfoy's deep grey eyes, he could feel nothing but pity.

"You're not weak, Malfoy", he murmured. "No one should have to go through that."

Draco looked into Harry's eyes, and nodded, before speaking again.

"In the end, my mother was the one who saved me. I don't know how she got there, but she crept into the dungeons one night, and she unlocked the door. She is the only one I trusted, so I followed her into the night. It was dark, and it all felt wrong somehow. As if someone was watching. My – mother, she gave me a piece of paper, she said she'd got it from Snape. Before he had – died. He had told her to use what's written on it, if she, or I, were in any danger at all. But, just after she gave me the piece of paper, they – they arrived."

"The Death Eaters?" asked Hermione, eyes opened wide in fright.

Draco nodded.

"And then – they killed my mum. The Avada Kedavra curse. There was this flash of green light, and then she just crumpled to the ground."

Tears had started to fall in earnest from Draco's silver eyes. "I tried to wake her up, but she wouldn't wake – so I ran – I just ran. They were trying to kill me, all of them – green light kept flashing next to me, but I just kept going –

"And then, one of them hit me. It wasn't the Avada Kedavra, obviously, but it was some sort of Dark Magic. It was if something was slashing me open – it was almost like – that curse you used on me in the bathroom, in sixth year. Except, the pain – it was almost unbearable. Blood was pouring, I nearly fell over, but I was hiding behind a tree – I could hear them, but all I could see was blood - I opened that piece of paper my mum gave me, it was an address – I had no time to think, I apparated there."

"And – you came here?" asked Harry.

"Barely. I was losing blood fast, I thought I was going to die – there, outside in the street, in the snow. But, it didn't seem so bad, dying. It was almost welcoming. At least I could escape everything…"

"And is that when you did it?", asked Hermione, voice full of emotion.

"Did what?", asked Harry, who was completely lost.

"Isn't it obvious, Harry? Draco cut himself. To escape", said Hermione bitterly.

Harry stared at Draco Malfoy, the broken boy sitting in front of him, someone who had been brought into things way out of his capabilities. It wasn't his fault, Harry could see that. No one should have gone thought what he did.

"Yes", whispered Draco. "I have a knife. A silver one. I didn't think, I thought I was dying anyway. But I knew it would be the way out. And I wanted to feel more pain. I wanted to feel pain, because I knew everything was my fault."

Harry couldn't speak, he was full of shock.

"And then – I don't know, I realised – too late of course, that maybe I could change – maybe there was more to me than most people thought. I – I was outside your door, and, well – I knew I had nothing to lose – so I threw myself at it. There was no answer, so I kept hitting the door, I was so – desperate. I just kept hitting the door – the door opened, and then, I don't remember anything else. Until I woke up and saw Potter."

There was silence after Draco's story. The three of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of raindrops against the window. There didn't seem to be anything to say, but Malfoy broke the quiet.

"I – Could you leave me alone now? I need some time", he murmured, avoiding eyes. He was staring at his scars again.

Hermione nodded and left quickly, followed by Harry, who stopped for a second at the door.

"Draco?"

"You didn't call me Malfoy, Potter. Why?"
"I don't know, it just seemed – right."

"You don't have to like me, you know, Potter. You can throw me out".

Harry shook his head. "I'm not going to, Malfoy".

"Why not? Pity?" Malfoy laughed bitterly.

"I think you've got a lot to give".

Draco didn't speak.

"I am – sorry, Malfoy."

But by the time Malfoy had looked up from his scar-covered arms, Harry had gone, shutting the wooden door quietly behind him.

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