Chapter Text
The Dark Lord always knows.
It was something Draco’s father had told him at the age of thirteen, after drinking one too many flutes of champagne. He rarely spoke of his time serving his beloved master, of the many tasks he fulfilled in his honor. But on that fateful night, the alcohol loosened his tongue.
It was exhilarating, he’d told Draco. There was nothing more satisfying than the rush he felt while helping to rid the scourge that plagued their country. He was among the few the Dark Lord trusted the most, always striving to carry out his orders with utter perfection.
The Dark Lord that knew his followers deepest thoughts and doubts...
Draco’s father marvelled over it, how You-Know-Who mercilessly struck down those who held even the smallest doubts against his regime. A great wizard like him had no time for weak links, he’d tried to explain, no time for those unable to complete their tasks.
The Dark Lord valued the strong. Only those who proved themselves were allowed among his ranks. And that terrified Draco to his core.
Because as much as he liked to pretend, Draco Malfoy wasn’t his father.
There were still nights he spent twisting and turning in his sheets, desperately trying to forget that damned Quidditch World Cup. There were nights where he woke up to the taste of ash on his tongue, the shrieks of everyone ringing in his ears. And what he saw… well…
Draco didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget the sight of those muggles hanging limply in the air, far above the chaos on the fields.
He wasn’t fearless, wasn’t committed to the Dark Lord’s bloody crusade. He wasn’t ready to die in the name of a man that still evoked fear among the masses, even in death.
And should the Dark Lord ever return as his father proclaimed he would… well…
Draco would run.
He’d run and never look back.
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco spent his fourth year in silence.
Potter stared at him defiantly, his fierce gaze daring him to act, daring him to return to their status quo.
But with a sigh, Draco always tore his gaze away from the boy. Instead he returned his attention to whatever book was in front of him, resigned to bury himself in his schoolwork for the foreseeable future.
He already had enough on his plate, spending most of his time worrying over his father’s increasingly cryptid letters and mulling over suitable plans should everything turn to shite. He didn’t need bloody Potter to add onto the hell that this year was turning into.
He already had the Dark Lord to help with that.
- - - - - - - - - -
Life as Draco knew it ended the night of the third task, as he watched Potter return with the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory.
“He’s back!” The boy proclaimed desperately to those around him.
Murmurs of uncertainty rose in the crowd, hidden behind the distinct terror that rose in the students once they realized that the Hufflepuff champion wouldn’t be getting back up. They looked upon the older boy with horror, some with disbelief. But Draco’s gaze, the terror that ate away at his insides, that was reserved for Harry alone.
He watched his rival as he was led away from the pitch by Moody of all people, the boy looking right ghostly. He was in shock, that much was clear. And the fear clamoring around in Draco’s chest grew into an inferno.
He’s back. He’s back. He’s back.
It didn’t take long for Draco to slip back through the crowd, hidden in the chaos Potter left behind. His mind raced as he snuck into the Slytherin common room, plans running through his mind, one after another.
Anything to help him get out of this alive.
- - - - - - - - - -
On the final day of term, Draco woke up far earlier than any of his other housemates.
He’d slept in his uniform, ready to leave at a moment's delay. Everything he owned had been stuffed away in the dragon-hide bag his mother had gifted him for Christmas. It’d taken longer than he expected to figure out how to cast the undetectable extension charm he’d needed. But after many skewed attempts, Draco had finally managed it.
He crept through his dormitory, glancing back at the other boys he’d grown to call his friends. Draco was torn at the sight of them, sleeping peacefully away. The fact they were still able to warmed his heart. None of them were conflicted by the Dark Lord’s return. None of them felt like they were only steps away from being devoured by the curse path their parents set out for them.
To them, serving the dark lord would be an honor.
Just as his father claimed…
Draco turned on his heel, slinging his bag over his shoulder and began the arduous task of sneaking out of the castle.
Never once did he look back.
- - - - - - - - - -
The Hogsmeade innkeeper was asleep at her desk when Draco slipped through the front door.
The boy couldn’t help the sigh of relief that exited his lips at the sight. That stroke of luck would help everything go according to plan far easier than he expected it to. He hadn’t fully planned on what he’d tell the woman, figuring his quick wits would serve him well.
But it seemed that he didn’t need to bother.
Draco snuck over to the fireplace, wincing as the floorboards creaked beneath him. The seconds it took to make his way to the hearth felt like hours in comparison. Slowly, he scooped out a handful of floo powder from the ancient pot on the mantle before stepping forward.
He was almost there, almost free.
“Diagon Alley.” Draco whispered, disappearing into the roar of green flames.
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco was quick to purchase a few pairs of clothes after realizing how daft he looked wandering around London in his school robes. He got quite the amount of odd looks from the lady at the first shop he found. But it was worth it, in the end.
For the first time in his life, Draco was wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans, looking disgustingly normal.
His parents would be horrified.
- - - - - - - - - -
After being turned away from the fifth muggle inn because of his age, Draco realized that his plan might not be as foolproof as he expected.
(He desperately wondered, all while shuffling away from the brightly lit building, if his parents would even try to find him. He hoped not.)
- - - - - - - - - -
It was the next evening that Jonathan Edwards found Draco curled up on a park bench.
Draco eyed the elderly muggle man with trepidation as he talked, offering him a place to stay for the next few days. He had half a mind to refuse, seeing as the muggle was a complete and utter stranger. But the familiar look in his eyes made him pause.
(It was the same carefree glint he’d seen present in most Hufflepuffs’ gazes, the kind that told Draco they were stupidly trusting and quick to care.)
Draco accepted with what he hoped was a grateful smile.
- - - - - - - - - -
Jonathan and his wife, Daisy were an interesting pair, odd yet endearing. They welcomed Draco with kind smiles and a warm meal.
(He did his best to ignore the voice in the back of his head, spitting out slur after slur at the lovely couple. It sounded far too much like his father.)
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco only meant to stay for a few days, he really did.
After that first night, Draco attempted to pay Jonathan with what he thought was a suitable amount of muggle money (sizeable enough that it put a slight dent into the amount he’d manage to exchange from Gringotts). But the old man only laughed, carelessly waving the money away.
“We don’t need your money.” He chuckled after Draco tried to press the matter. “But if you could help me around the shop, I’d appreciate it.”
That’s peasant work! That angry part of his mind screamed. I’d never stoop so low!
But Draco only nodded, following the old man to his flower shop.
(It was a quaint little thing, hidden away in the depths of London. But there was something strangely comforting about the small shop, something that inexplicably made his heart swell.)
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco was quick to discover that caring for muggle flowers wasn’t all that hard, thanks to the four years of herbology he had under his belt.
He didn’t do much besides watering the flowers or pruning the rose bushes out back that first day, once Jonathan noted the knack he had for dealing with plants. It was a marvel how boring muggle flowers were, how they stood utterly still, their colors remaining the same as the hours passed.
And yet somehow, Draco found that working with them was quite calming.
As the first day drew to a close, the young wizard was stunned (and slightly horrified) to discover that he actually enjoyed working. It kept his mind busy, kept him from panicking about his plans for the immediate future.
So when Jonathan asked him for help in the shop the following day, Draco didn’t hesitate to agree.
- - - - - - - - - -
A day turned into a week, and that single week turned into a few.
The Edwards’ never brought up the subject of Draco leaving. Nor did he.
Instead, Draco made sure to work harder in the shop, as well as assisting Daisy around the house when he was able to.
That angry part of his mind was displeased at the development, raging about how he was acting like a mere servant. It wasn’t proper, it tried to tell him. But Draco paid it no mind.
After all, the grateful smile Daisy gave him whenever he helped her in the kitchen was enough to strangle the voice into silence.
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco’s mother sent him an owl at the end of his third week living with Jonathan and Daisy.
The young wizard panicked at the sight of the tawny eagle tapping irritably at the dining room window. He glanced around, finding the room blessedly clear. Thank Merlin it was only him setting the table that evening.
Draco was quick to open the window, retrieving the letter with trembling hands.
‘Are you safe?’ His mother’s elegant cursive read.
Draco frowned, quickly looking around for one of those damned muggle quills. Jonathan always left them in the oddest places, much to his wife’s displeasure. Only last week did he find one nestled right in the carton eggs they kept in their cold box, ferigerator- or whatever the hell they called it. But as he wandered the room, there were no writing utensils to be seen.
With a sigh, Draco moved his search to other rooms, ending up luckless with each endeavor. When he finally moved to check the kitchen, however, the young man found himself pausing at the doorway.
Jonathan and Daisy were there, slowly dancing to the soft voices singing on the radio. It was a slow tune, one that made Draco feel lighter at the mere romanticism it portrayed. The couple giggled to one another as they spun around the room, reminding Draco of some of the newer couples he’d seen around Hogwarts, attached at the hips and stupidly happy.
A rush of warmth filled his heart at the sight.
Later that night, when he was finally able to find something to write with, Draco replied to his mother with a simple ‘yes’.
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco’s nightmares hadn’t magically disappeared over the year, not like he hoped they would. Instead they came more frequently and morphed into something far more alarming over the summer.
Instead of faceless muggles, stiffly suspended over their flaming tents, Jonathan and Daisy soon took their place.
Nothing could prepare him for the rush of horror he felt at the sight, the sheer terror unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Within moments of those dreams, Draco was quick to wake, deep heaving breaths rattling his lungs.
Those nights, Draco didn’t bother trying to go back to sleep. Instead, he holed himself up in the sitting room with a cup of tea and whatever books he could get his hands on.
- - - - - - - - - -
The longer he stayed, the more Draco learned about the muggle world.
He took in the knowledge greedily, from cars to airplanes, from freezers to washing machines. It was fascinating to him, how muggles found ways to get things done. All those machines…
Draco supposed those were their version of magic.
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco wasn’t surprised when he received word from Gringotts that his status as Malfoy heir had been revoked, his savings returning once more to the Malfoy family vault.
He understood why it was happening, what message his parents were trying to convey to him.
He was finally free.
- - - - - - - - - -
Jonathan and Daisy never questioned Draco’s presence in their home, never tried to ask what a fifteen-year-old boy was doing so far from home.
They were so very kind. And the more Draco thought of it, the more it made his throat tighten, made his heart hurt.
The most they’d pried was about his schooling, during the first week of August. Draco was quick to tell them that he was attending a boarding school in Scotland, that he’d be returning the first week of September.
It wasn’t until later that evening, as they ate dinner together, that Draco finally understood what that would mean for him. He’d be leaving his new safe haven, once and for all.
There would be no more waking to the smell of Daisy’s baking, no more tending to the flowers or humming along with the radio. No more of Daisy’s warm, motherly smiles. No more of Jonathan’s wry grins and horrid attempts at wit. All of it, everything Draco had grown to cherish over the past month and a half would be gone…
And suddenly, the relaxed smile on Draco’s face felt a tad bit forced.
- - - - - - - - - -
His Hogwarts letter came in soon after that, when Daisy was out at the shops.
He took the parchment with shaking hands, feeling ridiculous all the while. His assigned books were nothing special, did nothing to tell him what pile of shite would take over as their defense against the dark arts teacher. So with a quick roll of his eyes, Draco moved to return the parchment to its envelope.
It was then that something fell out of the envelope, landing on the floor with a strangely metallic ping. An overlooked piece of parchment followed after it.
Draco frowned, reaching down to collect the items with a bit of trepidation. But when he picked up the metallic object, which he quickly identified as a pin, Draco nearly dropped it out of shock.
A shiny prefect badge sat in his palm.
Draco was quick to look at the letter that’d accompanied it, a strange sense of pride filling him at the confirmation that Draco was indeed being made prefect this upcoming school year. A breathless laugh spilled from his lips and almost immediately, he spun around to tell the nearest person of the good news.
But no one was there.
Draco chided himself, quickly remembering that everyone was out at the moment. He didn’t even know if muggle had anything like prefects in their own schools. Maybe something similar, he theorized. Muggle education was a subject he had yet to research.
So with a heavy sigh, Draco returned to his breakfast, twitching all the while. It felt dreadful to sit there, the discarded letter sitting at his side. After a few moments of indecision, and some weak attempts at finishing his meal, Draco quickly stood, suppressing the urge to smile as he rushed to get ready for the day.
There was shopping to be done.
- - - - - - - - - -
It was odd stepping back into Diagon Alley after so many weeks of living with muggles. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to be constantly surrounded by the comforting hum of magic, how it wrapped around him like a warm cloak. He couldn’t help but feel awe at the sensation of it all.
As Draco looked through his school list once more, he couldn’t help but wonder if the mud-muggleborns felt the same after returning to Hogwarts each year. He imagined it would, and somehow he found that amusing.
If only his father could see him now, empathizing with muggleborns of all things.
Draco’s school list caught his attention once more, his brows furrowing at the mere sight of it.
He’d never done this on his own before, usually relying on his mother to gather his supplies while he explored the shops at his leisure. Now though, he’d have to do this all himself.
At the very least, Draco was grateful he’d remembered to bring his bag with him.
“What the...” A voice called from behind him. “Is everything in the wizarding world this cool?!”
Draco glanced behind him, spotting a wide-eyed boy with dark, curly hair, eyeing diagon alley with a look of utter excitement. Behind him, his father was following suit, though his face was filled with alarm, looking every bit as lost as Draco felt in that moment.
Ah. Muggles, then.
Draco didn’t know what compelled him to turn towards the duo, mustering up the most reassuring smile he could.
Honestly, he blamed Daisy and Jonathan’s poor influence.
“Wait until you get to Hogwarts.” Draco remarked, aiming most of his attention towards the young boy. “It’s far more impressive.”
The boy immediately looked up at him, almost in awe.
“Are you going to Hogwarts too?”
Draco nodded, unable to help but laugh at the boy’s energy.
“Yes, I’m starting my fifth year.” He replied, before adding to the father. “Do you two need any help? I can show you around if you’d like.”
The man scratched the back of his head with a sheepish smile.
“That obvious?” He asked.
Draco simply shrugged with a faint grin.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He reassured him.
Nevermind that nearly a year ago, he’d be saying something far different, and far less kind.
“I’d be grateful.” The man replied, offering a hand to shake. Draco winced as he clumsily returned the shake, still not used to the muggle greeting. “I’m Henry, and this here is my son, William.”
William gave a small wave as he started bouncing on the heels of his feet.
“Let’s go!” He urged, filled with the energy only a child had. Somehow, it was oddly refreshing.
Draco did his best to explain what each shop was as they wandered through Diagon Alley. William’s awe knew no bounds. And it was rather gratifying to be met with such enthusiasm. The boy hung on every one of Draco’s words, like Draco was telling the world’s most captivating story, rather than explaining something as trivial as how owls were used to send letters.
(Although, the more he thought about it, it all must’ve seemed enchanting to William. Entering an entirely new world filled with new, wondrous things… Draco was sure he’d find even the most mundane fact amazing.)
Henry followed along behind them, the gobsmacked look easing up as they visited more and more shops. Draco did his best to answer any questions he had about Hogwarts, what the education consisted of, what a normal year was like.
(Draco took particular care to skip over the rather… chaotic parts of his past school years.)
By the end of their shopping trip, Henry was shaking his hand once more. Although this time, it was far more profuse. Draco was quick to wave off his thanks, making sure to wish them luck for the rest of their trip.
William beamed at him at that, excitedly telling him that he’d see him at Hogwarts. And despite everything, Draco couldn’t help but smile back.
“See you then.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco returned to the Edwards’ home that evening, feeling lighter than usual.
He couldn’t help but beam at Daisy and Jonathan as they welcomed him back, having just set out dinner. Jonathan was quick to grab him a plate, piling it high with food.
“What’s got you smiling so widely, dear.” Daisy teased the moment Draco took a seat at the table. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so cheery!”
Draco laughed lightly, smiling down at his plate.
“Nothing much.” He replied. “Just had a good day.”
It was then that he remembered the badge sitting heavily in his pocket.
“Oh right!” He started, another bout of giddy energy rushing through him as he struggled to free the pin from his trousers. “I received a letter from my Headmaster! I was made prefect this year.”
Draco was met with immediate recognition and oddly enough, pride from the couple.
Daisy was quick to rush over to him, wrapping him in a tight hug as she congratulated him. Jonathan was quick to follow, clapping him on the back and telling him with utter sincerity.
“I’m proud of you, boy.”
The rest of dinner was a happy affair, filled with excited talk and intermittent congratulations. It struck Draco then, how different all of this was. If he’d still been living back at Malfoy Manor, the news would have been met with nods of approval and talks of gifts. Maybe there’d be a special dinner, filled with all of his favorite foods. But it’d be a quiet affair, cool and filled with demure conversations fitting of a Malfoy.
Not like here, where the two muggles Draco had been lucky enough to find, beamed with pride.
The dinner ended with a toast, Daisy and Jonathan raising their glasses of wine in Draco’s direction.
“To Draco” Daisy said.
“And to a job well done.” Jonathan followed.
And in that moment, as Draco raised his own glass, desperately resisting the urge to cry.
- - - - - - - - - -
Draco felt strangely numb as he slung his bag over his shoulder once more on September 3rd, readying himself for his journey to King’s Cross.
Daisy and Jonathan stood by the nearby, having already said their goodbyes. Draco hoped they wouldn’t notice the way his hands shook as he approached the front door. He took a breath, attempting to steady his nerves as he reached for the doorknob. But the moment his fingers met the cool metal, he hesitated.
Draco looked back at the two muggles he’d grown to cherish.
“Thank you.” He told them, voice cracking on the final syllable. “For everything.”
He wondered if they felt it, that melancholy that seemed to root itself in his heart in that very moment. He wondered if the same heartbreaking thought was occurring to them as well.
Was this really goodbye?
The couple merely smiled back. And for a moment, Draco thought that would be it, the final memory he’d have to remember them by.
But Daisy was quick to step forward, the elderly woman wrapping him up in one last hug.
“We’ll see you next year, Draco dear.”