Draco Malfoy and the Last Year

Level 2.2: The Long Way to London

The wind whistled past Draco's ears. Flying was, normally, a very comfortable thing to Draco. He felt at ease in the air and at home on his broom. Normally, he did not have a scared sixteen-year-old girl clinging with a death grip around his middle. Normally, he was not fleeing for his life.

The addition of a second person threw off the balance of the broom, and Draco found it harder than usual to keep control as he dodged the trees he was trying to hide amongst. It probably would have been easier if he had not been pushing the broom to its top speed or if he had waited for daylight. Thin branches slapped him as he evaded the larger ones. As the trees became denser, he took the broom up to skim the treetops. Persephone twinged as a jutting branch caught her leg, but Draco did not dare pull higher until they were at least a mile away.

When he felt safe and completely lost, he slowed the broom, so that he could hover a few hundred feet in the air. "Do you see anyone following us?" he asked Persephone.

"No," she replied, not relaxing her grip one bit. "But I have my eyes shut."

Draco laughed. The flight had his blood pumping, and he felt a little braver. They had escaped, but where to now? He wished he could Apparate. If he could get to London, he could get transportation to anywhere. But he could never fly that far in one night, and he knew better than to fly in the daytime when Muggles might see. "Any ideas on getting to London?"

"Where are we?" Persephone asked.

"Wiltshire, not far from Amesbury."

"Train."

"There's a wizards express in Amesbury to London, but I think there's too many people there who would recognize me. It's close enough that father could Apparate there and drag me back home."

"We could travel like Muggles," Persephone suggested. "We'll need Muggle money though."

"I don't have any." Draco did not like the idea of traveling like a Muggle. It sounded dirty to him. He considered flying by night and attempting that camping thing by day. But he knew he would be at great risk of being seen that way. They were in the country now, but if he flew too close to a town even in the dark, the Ministry might get involved. His mother would be contacted, and things would just get worse from there. The more he thought about it, the more he came to think traveling like a Muggle was what he least wanted to do, therefore what he was least likely to do, and therefore the best way to hide from other wizards. "There's an exchange in Newbury," he said finally.

Newbury was in the general direction of London anyway. The wizarding community was small, and he had only been there once when he was much younger. "Hang tight," he told Persephone unnecessarily. She whimpered as they gained speed.

When the first hint of dawn broke, Draco set down the broom in a small clearing. Persephone must have opened her eyes at some point, because she hopped off the broom before Draco could say a word to her. She shifted the bag on her shoulders and rubbed the small of her back. Draco messaged his midsection. "I think you squeezed my kidneys together."

"Sorry," Persephone said, still fooling with the backpack.

"Give it here," Draco said. She handed him the pack, and he put it on his own shoulders. He slung the Timebender over his shoulder to keep it off the ground. Persephone giggled. "What?"

"You look like a chimney sweep."

Draco rolled his eyes. He looked about him, trying to decide what to direction to take. There was a whirring noise just beyond the trees to his right.

"Is that an auto?" Persephone said, then dashed through the thicket. Draco groaned and hurried after her. It was an automobile, several in fact. Beyond the trees was a highway. Two-ton monsters thundered past, their headlights still blazing in the dim early morning.

"I was following those lights," Draco said. "I think if we follow the road it will take us to Newbury."

Neither of them was excited by the prospect of walking anywhere. After half a mile, Persephone stopped and stuck out her thumb.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked.

"We're hitchhiking."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we try to get someone to stop and give us a ride into town."

"I am not riding with strange Muggles!"

But even as Draco objected, a burgundy car pulled over to the side of the road and stopped in front of Persephone. The driver side window rolled down. A very boring looking woman stuck her head out. "Are you in trouble?"

Persephone stepped up to the car happily, and the woman pulled her head back inside. "Just a little bit," she said. "Could you give us a ride into town?"

"Why, you're just a little girl!" the woman exclaimed. Draco stepped forward, and the woman looked him up and down as well. Persephone's hair was windblown and wilder than usual. Her knee-highs were torn, and her legs had scratches from when they had flown through the trees earlier. Draco imagined that he looked worse. "My goodness, what's happened to you?"

Persephone gave a long sigh, as if to say that the story was far too complicated to begin. "We're just trying to get home."

"Well, come on, hope in. I can't leave you on the side of the road."

Persephone smiled and opened the back door of the car. Draco grabbed her arm. "Are you mad?"

"Relax, they're not going to hurt us," she said, and with her free hand she indicated her pocketed wand. Draco relaxed his grip, and she slipped into the car. He followed her, a thousand alarms going off in his head. It was awkward fitting the broom into the backseat, but somehow he managed it. Draco wondered why a Muggle would pick up two bedraggled strangers. He saw a large burly man in the front passenger seat and decided he must have been the reason for her courage.

"Thank you, so much," Persephone said as the car started down the road again.

"What are you kids doing out here?" the burly man asked.

"We're coming back from a concert," Persephone said.

"Ah," the man said. "I was wondering about the outfits. What band did you go see?"

Persephone glanced at Draco's broom. "The Timebenders."

"Haven't heard of them," the woman said. Before Draco could worry, she laughed. "Of course it's so hard to keep up with all the things you kids are into. Where in Newbury are you going?"

"Braunfels Walk," Draco said. "It's off Craven Road."

"We can drop you off at Craven," the woman said.

"Buckle up," Persephone hissed at him.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"Your seatbelt."

"My what?"

Persephone reached across Draco, pulled a strap over his lap, and fastened it on the other side. He started to object, but saw that she had a strap across her lap as well. The silver-haired girl lay back in the car seat. She looked nearly exhausted as Draco felt. He stared out the window. It was his first time to ride in a Muggle automobile, but it did nothing to excite him. The car was cramped, and the ride bumpy. At least on the Hogwarts Express, he could stretch his legs. The scenery was better too. The Muggles kept asking them semi-personal questions. To Draco's relief Persephone answered them. She seemed more comfortable talking to the Muggles than he did.

After an eternity that smelled like old cabbage, the car stopped and let them out on Craven Road. It was another long walk to the end of Craven Road and a left turn onto Braunfels Walk. Then it was a shorter walk to a house that looked very similar to all the other houses on Braunfels Walk, only this one had a very obnoxious blue flamingo yard ornament. Draco approached the front door. He flipped the welcome mat over so that only "come" was visible. The door to the house changed very subtly. The doorknob vanished from the right side and appeared on the left. Draco opened it and stepped into the small wizard's shop.

A disreputable looking man with stringy hair peeking out from under his cap waved them in. The door shut behind them. "Well, Hogwarts students," he said, eyeing Persephone's school robes. "Don't get you in often. Must be friends of the Creeveys."

Draco wrinkled his nose. The only Creeveys he knew where a couple of Gryffindor Mudblood brothers. They were both short, overly excitable, and annoying. "You still do currency exchange?" he asked instead of answering.

"Sure," the unpleasant looking man said. He was still watching Persephone who was making a close examination of everything in the shop. It had selection of all the ordinary things that wizards needed along with some odd items. There were basic potion ingredients, copies of the Daily Prophet, popular candies, and developing fluids. "You two look a little worse for wear. I've got a tonic that would fix you right up."

"No thank you," Draco said firmly, not interested in drinking anything this man gave him. "I just want to make an exchange."

"Well how much?"

"Persephone, how much?" He did not have a clue how much a Muggle train ride cost or what was fair exchange. Persephone skipped over.

"Hm?"

"How much do you think we need?"

"Oh, I'm not sure exactly," she said. "What with inflation and all...um, I think 50 Galleons would be on the safe side."

Draco fished the money out reluctantly. That was nearly half his Galleons. He reminded himself about the jewels safely in his pocket and spilled the gold on the counter.

"Pounds or Euros?"

"Um...pounds."

The man started to stack the coins.

"These too," Persephone said adding her sickles to the pile. "Oh, and Draco, can we get these?" She held up a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. "I'm starving."

"Those are disgusting," Draco said. "You know they make old sock and horseradish."

"You ain't Draco Malfoy are you?" the strange man behind the counter said rubbing his chin.

A month ago Draco might have been flattered to be recognized, but now he just felt distressed. "Of course not," he said, and dropped the Bertie Botts on the counter with the rest. "Just ring it all up." The man sniffed but did as asked.

They left the shop with the beans and a large roll of pound notes, which Draco gave to Persephone to manage. "Want one?" Persephone asked, offering him the beans.

"No, thanks," Draco said. "I want some real food."

Persephone shrugged and popped a bean in her mouth. "Mmm, chocolate." She popped another bean in her mouth. "Do you know I haven't eaten in twenty years? No, wonder I'm hungry." She popped another bean. "Oh, it's so good to taste things again."

"What was that last one?"

"Haggis I think," she frowned slightly. "You know I hate haggis, but you never realize how much you miss the things you hate. You know?"

Draco shook his head. They had passed some place advertising meals on their way here, and he wanted to get back to it. As they got out of the neighborhood and into the business center, Draco noticed more and more Muggles stare at them. "What's their problem?"

"Well, we both look pretty awful, right now, and most Muggles don't strut around the street with a broom perched on their shoulder."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" Draco felt exasperated. He was not giving up his Timebender, but he knew it was like waving around a big flag that said "Wizard".

"Just hold onto it," Persephone said soothingly. "We'll find a cover or something." Down the next street, she stopped and pointed at an unimpressive looking shop. "That's what we need."

It was a second hand store. "You must be joking," Draco snorted, but Persephone was already running into the shop. Draco slid apprehensively into the store trying not to touch anything. Persephone was rifling through racks of old clothes, and Draco realized she was looking for disguises. "But Muggles wore this stuff!" he pleaded with in a low voice.

"That's the point!" she retorted. "Don't worry, I'm sure everything's been cleaned."

Draco was not so sure. He had been in a few Muggle clothing shops before with his mother, but they had all been much cleaner than this. The walls badly wanted fresh paint, and there was a strange smell he could not pin down. Persephone held up a very common looking white shirt with short sleeves and the words "MASS TRANSIT" printed in black. "What the devil-?"

"T-shirt and jeans," she said. "Classic Muggle." She handed him the shirt and some rough blue trousers, and flagged down the girl at the cash register. "Miss, can he try these on?"

"Yeah, in there," the girl replied with disinterest. She was engrossed in a magazine half-hidden under the counter.

She had indicated a small niche with a bench and a curtain. Draco propped his broom beside it and pulled the curtain closed. He changed into the Muggle clothes. They were uncomfortable, but they fit. He pulled the curtain back.

"Looks like it fits, alright," the girl at the counter commented, looking up from her magazine. Her expression changed. "Did you get in a fight?"

Draco looked at himself in a small mirror on the counter. His face was dirty and scratched from plowing through the branches. He tried to put his hair back in order with his hands and found a small twig clinging to the strands. "Wipe?" she asked, stretching out a small damp cloth to him. It smelled slightly unpleasant, but he tried it anyway. Whatever fluid was in the cloth stung his scrapes, but it did get most of the dirt off. He wadded it up, the white cloth now brown, and held it out to the register girl. She looked at the wipe apprehensively and picked up a small waste paper basket. She held it out to Draco, and he tossed the wipe inside.

Draco turned to Persephone who had a bundle of clothes in her arms now. "Do I have to wear this?" he hissed.

"If you want to blend in," Persephone whispered back, and then she disappeared into the dressing room.

"Blend in?" he said to the curtain. "Have you looked in the mirror? How are we supposed to manage that?"

"I've got it covered," Persephone said. After a few minutes, she pulled the curtain back. She was also dressed in blue jeans only where Draco's T-shirt fit; her large pink one swallowed her. She had topped the T-shirt with a loose woven black vest, and she waved something woven and black with bright colored specs at Draco. "Do you have any hair pins?" she asked the register girl.

The register girl stared at Persephone as if she had not seen her before. Maybe she had been too engrossed in her magazine. "Uh, sure." She rifled behind the counter and pulled out a handful of large hairpins. Persephone thanked her and used the small mirror on the counter to pin her hair down as best she could. She managed to stuff the whole mess into the woven thing, which seemed to be a hat of sorts, and used the last two pins to keep the hat in place. The sales girl watched her in guilty fascination. Persephone looked up at her, and she blurted, "Is that your real eye color?"

Persephone looked a little uncomfortable. "Um, yeah."

"Wicked!" the register girl exclaimed.

Draco tapped his foot impatiently and crossed his arms. Having them bare made him feel exposed and self-conscious.

"You know what you need," the register girl said, turning her attention on him. She grabbed a hanger off the rack, which held a black jacket. It had long sleeves, and she thrust it at him, so Draco tried it on.

Persephone laughed, "That's perfect."

"Like a blonde James Dean," the register girl laughed with her.

Draco liked the jacket because it was lightweight and felt more like a proper robe than the T-shirt, but the girls' laughter was making him more uncomfortable.

"Can we wear these out?" Persephone asked.

"Yeah, just let me ring them up."

"One more thing," Persephone said. She pulled out a long bag with a bloated base from a pile of used suitcases.

"What is it?" He asked.

"I think it's a case for a banjo, but we can put your broom in it." She unzipped the fabric and stuffed the broom inside cushioning it with the robes they had been wearing.

"It sticks out the top," Draco said.

Persephone shrugged. "It's better than nothing."

The register girl, who was looking at them even more strangely now that she had noticed the broom, rang up their purchase. Persephone handed over a few pound notes, and they left the shop.

"Couldn't we have gotten new clothes?" Draco griped as they walked down the street. He felt far more uncomfortable than he had when they had gone into the shop, but he noticed that fewer people were staring at them. Persephone had taken the camping bag and left him with the odd shaped one holding his broom.

"Yes," Persephone said. "But then we wouldn't have as much money left over. We still have to get to London. And eat. I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Draco said. His stomach was still twisting. "Hey, what's a James Dean anyway?"

While they searched for a restaurant, Persephone tried to give Draco a crash course in Muggles. "The trick is to look like you know what you're doing, even when you don't. It's not that different in the wizarding world, really. No one asks questions unless you give them an opportunity."

He listened, but the lesson was cut short when he spotted an Italian restaurant.

They ate. The food was not up to par with what Draco was used to, but his hunger was a potent seasoning. He drank two glasses of water and a glass of milk and ate a very large plate of spaghetti and meatballs. Persephone had a smaller plate but ate with the same enthusiasm.

Persephone asked the waiter about nearby hotels. After they finished eating, they tried to find one that he had recommended. Sitting in the restaurant for so long had allowed the feeling to return to Draco's legs, and this was not a good thing. He pushed himself on because he had far too much dignity to rest in the streets. His muscles ached, and he felt very dirty. The wipe had only taken off the top layer of grime, the blue jeans itched, and the summer sun had left him sticky and sweaty. He was convinced one of his cuts would become infected.

"There's one," Persephone announced. She ran up to the entrance of a building claiming affordable rooms and disappeared through a rotating glass door. Draco followed her, but not at a run. Cool air greeted him as he entered the lobby, and he sighed with pleasure. There were a few comfortable look large chairs arranged in a rectangle. Draco was tempted to shed the jack and collapse into one of them, but he spotted Persephone at the counter and walked up to her.

"Well, what's the cheapest room you have for two," Persephone asked a woman with a tightly wound blonde bun. She was half hidden behind the counter, and looked like a legless torso in a red vest.

The woman looked slightly annoyed and tapped something hidden on her side of the counter. "One double bed," she said.

"That's fine," Persephone said. Draco almost said something but decided as long as there was a bed it was fine with him.

"How many nights?" The woman kept her eyes on whatever was behind the counter and did not look up.

"Just one."

"Credit card number?"

"We're paying with paper money," Persephone said.

The woman looked up and raised a well-plucked eyebrow. "You'll have to pay in advance," she said.

"That's fine."

She took in Draco standing impatiently behind Persephone, and the second eyebrow went up. "How old are you kids?" she asked slowly.

"Oh, just give us the bloody room!" Draco spat. "And get your mind out of gutter, she's my little sister."

The woman bristled. "No need to get upset, sir. What name will this be under?"

"Marvin," Draco gave the first Muggle name that came to mind. "Marvin Smith."

"Okay, Mr. Smith," she said tersely. "Do you require a wake up call?"

"No, thank you," Persephone said.

"It will be forty pounds." She was looking at Draco when she said this and seemed surprised that Persephone pulled out the roll of notes.

Persephone handed her some pound notes, and the woman pulled a key off the wall behind her. "214."

Draco took the key from her hand and strode to the staircase. He crossed the lobby to the stairs and realized that Persephone had not followed. She was still at the counter, talking to the woman with the tight bun. He waited impatiently and after a minute she caught up with him. "What was that about?" Draco asked.

Persephone covered her mouth to suffocate a giggle. "She wanted to make sure I was okay. She said you looked a little rough."

"Oh, good grief," Draco growled and plodded up the stairs. Persephone followed him, giggling. After a little searching on the second floor, they found 214. The key threatened to stick, but Draco managed to turn it. The room it revealed was small with just enough space for a double bed, two side tables, and a third longer table opposite the bed and supporting an oddly shaped black box. There was an incredibly small bathroom just behind the door without a decent tub.

"You can have the bathroom first," he told Persephone.

She borrowed a set of robes from his bag and said that she would be quick. Draco sat down on the end of the bed. He had a horrible vision of the future that involved shifting from one Muggle hotel to another, which would quickly eat up his remaining currency and leave him completely desolate. He missed his four-poster bed and wanted a hot meal. The spaghetti had not satisfied him. He thought about distracting himself with one of his schoolbooks until Persephone finished in the bathroom, but he was too tired to read. Instead he listened to the sound of the water running, and tried to picture himself in a nice warm bath.

True to her word, Persephone did not take very long, but Draco was half asleep when she came padding out of the bathroom. His robes were far too big for her, which made her look even smaller and younger than she was. She had set her hair free again. It stuck out in such random clumps, that he fished his brush out of his bag and had her sit on the bed while he tried to put it in order. His mother had been right. The silver mass was uncontrollable, but he managed to remove a few small twigs and leaves hidden in its depths. When he had been very small, he had enjoyed brushing his mother hair, something he would never admit to his closest friends. His mother's blonde hair was always soft and smooth and fell straight and neat past her shoulders. Those moments with her had been sweet and pure, and though Persephone's silver tangle was nothing like his mothers, the exercise soothed him. When he had arranged it as best he could, he took his turn in the bathroom. He profoundly missed having a tub to soak in, but the warm water from the shower and the complimentary soap were sufficient to clean him.

The fresh robes improved his mood greatly. He laid his Muggle clothes across the shower rod to air and checked his scrapes in the mirror. There were several significant ones on his face, and he hoped none of them scarred. At least none of them were still bleeding.

He emerged from the bathroom to find Persephone already asleep on one side of the bed. He had considered being a gentleman and taking the floor, but there was not much floor. Persephone left plenty of room for him on the other side of the bed. He climbed under the covers and crossed his arms behind his head on the pillow. At least the mattress was comfortable. Persephone rolled over in her sleep and curled up against him, laying her hand on his stomach. He felt his heart rate increase and looked down at her sleeping face and wild hair.

"Little sister," he murmured to himself. He took some of her hair in his hand. It was unusually springy but still soft. She continued to sleep, and he relaxed. Sleep would not come so easily for him. He tried to think about his next step. He liked Persephone, but dragging her around the world with him would eat through his resources even more quickly. He thought about his parents, wondered if they had bought the story he had left for them in the note or if they had already disowned him. He thought of Harry Potter, trapped with his Muggle relatives, having lost his wizard family. Bit by bit, things became clear for Draco. "All right, Potter," he murmured, stroking Persephone's hair lightly. "I'll bring your family back to you, and you help me get mine." And at some point, he slept.

****************

When Draco awoke, Persephone was gone. Panic raced through him. He searched the room, which took less than a minute. Half formed thoughts raced through his head. She had been a dream, a hallucination, a plant by Voldemort to test his loyalty. Her Muggle clothes were gone. She had abandoned him. She had been taken. She had abandon him and then been taken. He started to race out in his robes, but remembered to change first. Secrecy was still paramount. She was playing a very cruel joke. She was just downstairs. She had gotten lost. His panic was screaming more loudly. He did not know a thing about Muggles. Had she taken the pound notes? Had she taken the Galleons? What if he could not find her? How was he supposed to get to London without going through the wizard channels now?

As he pulled the T-shirt over his head, he heard the lock rattle. He paused, wondering if he should dive for his wand. The door opened and Persephone squeezed inside, her arms loaded with bags. "Oh, good morning," she said. "I was hoping to get back before you got up."

"Where did you go?" he asked not able to keep the accusation out of his tone.

"Just down to the corner market," she said, not taking notice of his tone. She dropped the bags on the bed. "And I got us a spot of breakfast. McDonald's is a right bit cheaper than room service." She handed Draco a box from one the bags. He opened it and found eggs and slices of French toast. Persephone handed him a utensil that looked like the illegitimate child of a spoon and a fork. He had to tear it free from a clear wrapping that held a paper napkin as well.

"Why does Muggle food taste so funny?"

"Well, it's processed, isn't it?" Persephone said, sticking some of the funny eggs in her mouth.

"What does that mean?" Draco whimpered. He was not sure he wanted to finish.

"Don't worry about it," Persephone laughed. "It won't hurt you."

Feeling miserable, Draco finished his breakfast. At least the tea tasted like tea.

"How do you know so much about Muggles, anyway?" he asked Persephone.

"Well, I'm taking Muggle studies...at least I was taking Muggle studies," she amended. "And Papa thought it was a good idea to get a good feel for them. You know since there's so many. Your father thought it was nuts of course. He said he wouldn't be caught dead on a Muggle outing. Severus said he would come with me sometime, but he wouldn't stay at the house because of James. Can't blame him, but I..." She trailed off. She looked very sad, and she must have remembered that most of the people she was discussing were dead or she was running from them.

Draco looked away guiltily. He had not told her that his Professor Snape was her Severus. It was too strange for him. He was too afraid that she would go to him, and he would make the connection back to his parents.

"I think I should take you to Harry," Draco said.

"You mean James' son?"

Draco nodded.

"Would he want to see me? You made him sound rather unpleasant."

"Well he is," Draco said. "To me. But you're his aunt. I think he would be happy to see you. I know he'd take care of you. He would probably be a better protector for you than I would. He still makes Vol-...well, he still makes You-Know-Who nervous. Besides, he's Seventeen now. He can use magic. I've still got a few more days to go." In all the rush, Draco had completely forgotten his birthday. It had been the first year his mother had not planned a party for him. They could not have any guests stumbling over Death Eaters. He did the math in his head. It was only three days, the day before the Hogwarts train left from London.

That gave him some comfort. Only three days until he could do magic freely. In three days, he would be able to defend himself. Not that it would do much good in a face to face with Lord Voldemort, but he stood a better chance against one of the Death Eaters.

"There's a Muggle train station not too far from here," Persephone said. "I thought we could use it to get to London, but...do you know where Harry lives?"

Draco knew exactly where Harry Potter lived. He hoped Persephone would not ask him how. He glanced at the other bag Persephone had brought. "What's in that?"

"Oh!" She pulled out a box with an eerily still photograph of a man. "That man recognized you, so I thought you might like a bit more of a disguise."

Draco frowned. "What is it?"

"It's temporary hair color," she said. "It's brown. We can put it on you in the bathroom. I experimented a lot with hair color when I was younger, trying to cover this up." She touched the hat covering her silver mass. "Nothing would stick, no spells either. But your hair is probably normal."

Draco frowned. He thought his hair was a lot nicer than 'normal'. His sleek white-blonde hair was his trademark. It was how everyone said they recognized him as Lucius Malfoy's son...and therein was the problem.

Persephone must have guessed what he was thinking. "Don't worry, it's temporary. It will wash out."

"Why'd you get such a boring shade of brown? Why not black?"

Persephone giggled. He noticed that she did that a lot. "We're trying to make you blend in, remember, not stick out."

They spent the next half-hour in the bathroom. He could not help wincing as Persephone applied the hair color. When she had finished, he had to admit that it made him look a lot more boring and Muggle.

They packed up their things and left the hotel. They took the train to Bracknell, which caused another significant shrink in their pound notes, and then caught a cab to Little Whinging. As they approached Harry Potter's neighborhood, Draco slipped down as far as he could in the back seat of the cab and kept his eyes wide, looking for any sign of dark wizards or any wizards lurking about. He had no idea who or what Voldemort might have spying on Harry Potter or what members of the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry of Magic for that matter might have looking after him.

Persephone was looking out the windows as well, but she seemed more fascinated than nervous. She watched the boring, cookie cutter Muggle houses as though trying to soak up the place where Harry had grown up. The cab came to a halt at number four, Privet Drive. Draco got out. He looked about furtively, suspicious of every bush and window. The cat a few doors down made him extremely nervous. Even with his nerves on edge, he noticed the extreme Muggleness of Privet Drive. No wonder Potter never seemed anxious to go home.

They got their bags, and Persephone paid the driver. Draco dreaded knocking on the door, but he felt very unsafe standing out in the open. They started up the drive.

"Do you think he'll recognize me?" Persephone was talking again. "I mean do you think he's seen photos? What about this other aunt of his? Do you know if it's his aunt or uncle on his mother's side? Was she Muggle? Or a half blood? Or-?"

"She was a Mudblood," Draco snapped at her as he banged on the door. They did not have a proper knocker.

"Draco, use the bell," she said, knocking his hand down and pushing a small button beside the door.

After a very long minute, a thin, horse-faced blonde woman opened the door. "Can I help you?" she said. She looked at them both suspiciously, but she seemed particularly disturbed by Draco and the silver stick poking out the top of his bag.

"We're here to see Harry Potter," Persephone said.

"He's not here," the woman said sharply. Her expression went from suspicious to flustered, and she began to close the door.

"What do you mean he's not here?" Draco felt the panic threaten to creep up again.

"I thought that was obvious," the woman said stiffly. "He's not here."

"Do you mean he's out?"

"I mean he's left."

"But, he can't," Persephone whimpered. "We came all this way to see him."

The bony woman glared at them. "That's not my problem." She moved to slam the door, but Draco shot out his arm and stopped it. The bony woman let out a startled yelp.

"Don't you dare slam a door on me," Draco said icily. "We need to speak to Harry Potter."

The bony woman went pale and quivered. He had definitely managed to frighten her. Persephone was giving him a worried glance as well, but he did his best to ignore it.

"Are-are you from that school or -?" she stopped in mid sentence.

"Yes," Draco half-lied. "We're from Hogwarts."

"He's already gone to catch his train," the woman said shakily. "He's staying with some friends. He didn't tell us who."

Damn! Draco thought. The cab had already left. They were stranded in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood, where Death Eaters still might be lurking. "Can we come in?" he asked.

The woman seemed to gain some courage. "No. This is a normal house! There's nothing here for you people."

"Please," Persephone said, her voice soft and pleading. "I'd really like to talk to you a little bit. It would help if we could come inside. People might be watching."

This last sentence got the bony woman's attention. She stared past their shoulders looking for something more threatening than a pair of teenagers. "Are you friends of Harry's?" she asked.

"No," Draco snorted. Immediately, he realized that should not have been his answer, but it seemed to make the woman less apprehensive about him rather than more.

"All right. Step inside." She let them in, and they stepped into a very small entry hall, which was half taken up by a very common looking staircase. On the staircase was a very large but otherwise common looking boy who could not have been much older than Draco.

"You must be Harry's aunt?" Persephone said uncertainly to the woman sticking out her hand.

The woman looked at Persephone disdainfully. She took Persephone's hand with two fingers as if it were a very dirty sock that needed airing. Persephone looked back at her curiously. She looked up at the boy on the stair. "Hallo," she said. "Are you related to Harry as well?"

"Who are you?" the boy barked back. "What do you want with Harry?"

If Draco had spoken like that to a guest, his mother would have rebuked him, even if she did not care for them herself. But the look that the Muggle woman gave her son was not the least bit disapproving, instead it was proud. Persephone placed her fingers over her lips and looked slightly embarrassed. "How horribly rude of me," she said in her light laughing tone. "I'm dreadfully sorry. You must think I have awful manners. I'm Persephone Potter. I'm Harry's aunt on his fathers-"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the startled scream Harry's other aunt gave. She backed away from Persephone. "That's impossible! You're dead!"

"I am not dead," Persephone insisted.

The boy on the steps came down. He towered over Persephone and frowned down at her. "You can't be Harry's aunt. You don't look any older than he does."

"Oh," Persephone said. She hastily pulled out her pins, took off her hat, and released her wild silver hair. "Everyone says I have a young face, but you can see..." Draco was used to Persephone's silver hair by now, but he knew it made her look a good bit older at first glance. The large boy looked at her hair uncertainly.

"Where have you been then?" the bony woman snapped. She was still clutching her chest, not completely recovered from her shock. "If you're that boy's aunt, then why didn't you take him? Why were we stuck with him?"

"Well, I...I was in a coma," she said far too happily. Persephone knew more about Muggles than Draco, but she did not seem to understand the fine art of a good lie. Not that they would believe the truth either. "I just woke up, you see, and came straight here to see Harry. He's the only relative I've got left."

"I see," the bony woman said grumpily, as if being in a coma were a poor excuse to not take Harry away.

"Although, I suppose if your James' sister in law, you're sort of family by marriage."

The bony woman looked rather disgusted at this prospect. "My sister and that boy are dead," she said bluntly. "I think that dissolves any legal connection we might have."

"Who are you, then?" the large boy asked Draco.

"Marvin Smith," Draco said giving him the same name as he had at the hotel. There was no telling what Potter had told these Muggles about him. "I volunteer at St. Mungo's. Who are you?"

"Dudley Dursley," the large boy huffed. Draco had to choke back a laugh. "This is my mother Petunia Dursley."

"Oh, Petunia's a lovely name!" Persephone said happily. "Just like a flower."

Mrs. Dursley looked flattered in spite of herself. When she spoke it was in a slightly less antagonistic tone. "Well, you can see that Harry's not here..."

"Could I ask you about him?" Persephone interrupted. "You see I'm very nervous about meeting Harry. It would help so much if I knew more about him. I would really love to look about and see the place where he grew up."

Mrs. Dursley let out a long-suffering sigh. She must have realized Persephone would not leave easily. "Well, come have some tea," she said, and led them back into a small kitchen.

Tea was all she gave them. Draco wished she would offer more because his stomach was growling again, but he felt far too uncomfortable to ask. Petunia kept looking at Persephone's mop and smoothing her own perfectly neat hair, as if she could force Persephone's to lie flat by suggestion. Dudley kept glaring at the two of them, mostly Draco. Persephone asked them all sorts of silly questions about Harry like how he did at school and did he have any hobbies and did he like gummy candies or chocolate better. Draco judged from Petunia's answers that she had an even lower opinion of Harry than he did, not enough interest in him to know if he preferred gummies or chocolate, and Harry never said a word to the Dursley's about how things went at Hogwarts. Petunia kept slipping in comparisons of Harry to her own thick, dull looking son, and Harry never came out the better in them. These comparisons did not seem to faze Dudley, who must have been used to them. He occasionally stopped glaring at Draco to look blandly at his mother's compliments but would soon resume his glaring.

Persephone decided she wanted to see a picture of Harry. Petunia was very happy to pull out large photo albums, which featured far more pictures of Dudley's first year than Draco's parents had of his entire life. Persephone patiently let Aunt Petunia show her every one of Dudley's pictures, wading through three albums, making the appropriate 'aw' sounds, before she spotted one with Harry in the background. "Oh, there he is. It's eerie. He looks just like James did at that age."

Draco glanced at the photos, but he found the frozen images to be very eerie. Soon, he backed himself against a far wall and waited impatiently for Persephone to finish.

What Dudley lacked in cunning, he made up for in persistence. He continued to glare at Draco steadily. Draco was not sure whether to be annoyed or amused by the attention. He did his best to ignore Dudley and think about what his next move should be. He wished he had his own vault at Gringotts, but his parents had felt there was no need for him to have his own account until he graduated Hogwarts. It was one of the subtle leashes they had on him, one he had never felt restricted by before. He knew where to find the Weasleys but doubted they would help him even if they knew where Harry was. He wished he knew where the Granger household was. Certainly she would...

Draco pushed the thought of Granger out of his mind and studied the boring little Muggle house. The only thing he liked about it was that it was clean.

Before Petunia and Persephone had finished going through the albums, a round man with no neck but a very large mustache came in through the front door and started grumbling about traffic before it had close behind him. Draco had a clear view of the front door and was therefore in clear view. Mr. Dursley stopped short when he saw Draco and demanded very loudly to know who he was. The scene from earlier replayed as Persephone introduced herself again.

In the long run, they were invited to stay for dinner. Persephone had endeared herself to Mrs. Dursley by 'oo'ing and 'aw'ing over Dudley's baby pictures and expressing a dislike of animals and James Potter. Mr. Dursley was very unhappy to discover that Draco and Persephone were some of "those people", but became quite contented when he figured out that Persephone was a rapt audience to his complaints about Harry. Draco was very happy to finally have something to eat. Mrs. Dursley, for all her faults, was a competent cook and used to serving portions large enough to satisfy her oversized husband and son. By the end of the meal, he was getting extremely tired of Mr. Dursley's long-winded complaints about Harry. He was not fond of Potter, but he found himself wanting to verbally defend him just to shut the fat man up. Dudley, uninspired yet persistent Dudley, continued to glare at Draco throughout the meal, breaking only to chew and cast suspicious glances at Persephone.

They had gotten to the pudding before Dudley spoke. Mr. Dursley had just finished his longest rant yet about how Harry would turn out to be a no account just like his father, when Dudley said softly, "Harry's Head Boy, you know."

Draco could almost hear the grinding as the conversation halted. It was no surprise to Draco, who knew Harry was Dumbledore's golden boy, but the Dursley's looked very shocked. They fell quiet, which made Draco's pudding taste better. Persephone seemed to be trying to place this new information alongside all the negative reports she had been hearing about her nephew. After several minutes, Mr. Dursley coughed. "Well, I'm sure those sort use funny measures."

As Mrs. Dursley cleaned away the dishes, Draco and Persephone retreated into the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"What do we do now?" Persephone asked.

"I think we should go to London," Draco said.

"Draco, we're nearly out of pound notes."

"More reason to go to London," he said, thinking about the gems in his pocket.

"How? I don't think we've got enough for a cab and the train. Not for both of us."

He understood her distress. They had expected to find Harry Potter here or at least some way to get in touch with him. At the exchange they had planned on heading straight to London. The side trip to Little Whinging had stretched them thin.

Mr. Dursley settled his considerable personage down into the large chair near the fireplace. "Well, getting late. I suppose you'll want to get to your hotel."

Draco felt his stomach sink even lower. They definitely did not have enough pounds for a hotel. It would just be another long night until they got to London.

"We don't have a hotel," Persephone told him.

Mr. Dursley narrowed his beady eyes but attempted to look pleasant at the same time. "Petunia, could you bring in the directory?"

"It's not that." Persephone may not have been a good liar, but she had the helpless little girl look down extremely well. "We thought Harry would be here. We came in such a rush. I made no provisions for a trip back."

Petunia who had just come in from the kitchen clutching the directory spoke up. "Well, Vernon, since Marge went home, we do have the guest room open. Why don't you spend the night, dear? I'm sure you can figure something out by morning."

Vernon Dursley was beginning to turn purple. Draco had watched the man change shades an amazing number of times during the evening. It had to be abnormal, even for a Muggle.

"Oh, thank you so much." Persephone looked ready to weep with gratitude. "I feel dreadful imposing, but it would save me so much distress."

Mr. Dursley turned his beady eyes to glare at Draco. "I guess you'll be wanting to stay too."

No, Draco thought, I would rather sleep in the woods than be trapped with you Muggles any longer. He however was a good liar. "If it's not too much of an imposition."

"Of course not!" Vernon Dursley roared, jumping to his feet. "We're just like a bloody hotel. Everyone showing up with suitcases!" He stormed to the kitchen.

"We can put him in Harry's old room," said Petunia calmingly. "We haven't taken the bed out yet. It's just for tonight."

Vernon Dursley returned from the kitchen and shook a fat finger at Draco and Persephone. "ONE NIGHT. You're out first thing in the morning! And no funny business!"

Draco was not sure what he meant by funny business. He just wanted the night to be over. Mr. Dursley did not stay to explain but stormed upstairs.

Mrs. Dursley apparently liked to play hostess. She seemed to think that they would be impressed that she had two guest bedrooms. Persephone made the appropriate praises of the guest bedroom, which was very pink and frilly. She sounded sincere even to Draco. But no matter how good a liar Draco was, he could not drudge up a compliment about Harry's bedroom, which was small, dark, and dull. When Petunia had left him, he dropped his bag on the floor and lay down on the narrow bed.

So this was what it was like to be Harry Potter?

He thought about the double bed in the guestroom and wished he could be there, Persephone curled up at his side. Her presence put him at ease, but maybe that's what Vernon Dursley had meant by funny business. The more sensible parts of Draco's brain knew that having her at his side was an addiction better broken before started. Besides, alone, he felt less guilty indulging in his normal fantasies, which involved a completely different girl curling up to him.

His fantasy was just starting to get interesting, when there was a small knock on his door. He sat up quickly, feeling embarrassed and guilty. "Uh...come in."

The door creaked open, and Persephone peeked in wearing what must have been a borrowed nightgown. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Draco felt his pulse quicken as Persephone sat down beside him on the bed. She kissed his cheek. "It was a very brave thing you did," she said.

"What was?"

"All of it," she smiled at him softly. "Rescuing me. Running from Voldemort. Traveling like a Muggle. It was all very brave."

Draco frowned at her. How could she have it so wrong? "That wasn't bravery. That was panic."

She still looked at him admiringly, silver eyes shining in the moonlight. "Well, I think it was brave. And I just wanted so say thank you."

Draco resisted the urge to gulp. Harry Potter's aunt wanted to thank him on Harry Potter's bed. That seemed extremely wrong, even to him. But Persephone just smiled and stood.

"Don't worry," she said. "It will all work out. We'll get to London." She slipped back out and shut the door.

Draco slapped his hand over his face and fell back on the bed. She just wanted to say thank you, idiot. Get your own mind out of the gutter.

He felt disgusted with himself and not the least bit sleepy. He got up and decided to explore Harry's small room to take his mind off thing. He opened every drawer and investigated the wardrobe. Harry must not have been planning to come back, something Draco could not blame him for. The only things left were some foul looking old socks in the dresser and some very large shirts hanging in the wardrobe which were far too big to have belonged to Harry. There were small holes where things must have been tacked to the walls recently. His friend Crabbe had Quidditch team posters and flags tacked all over his wall. Draco had always found posters untidy looking and left his own white walls clean.

There was another one of those weird black boxes, similar to the one at the hotel. He remembered more of them in the kitchen and living room downstairs. Draco poked at it. He pressed one of the buttons, and it flared to life with sound and colors. He jumped back, but it did nothing but sit there with a constantly changing picture of people talking to each other. He tried talking to them, but none of the figures responded. After a while, he edged closer and tried more of the buttons. One made the box louder, one made it softer, two completely changed the pictures, though sometimes they changed on their own. Finally he tried the first button again, and it shut off. He stared at it for a while, daring it to wake up again, but the box stayed eerily silent.

"Weird," he muttered.

It was a long night, and he never got to sleep properly. He managed to drift off for an hour or so, but then some odd noise or a bad dream would wake him. He would lay awake for another hour staring at the ceiling or out the window until he could drift off again.

He had almost settled into a decent sleep, when a rap at the door woke him. "Breakfast." He heard Petunia Dursley announce tersely. Sunlight was pouring through the window. Draco whimpered and forced himself to get up and dress. He staggered down the stairs, hoping a meal would improve his disposition.

Persephone was waiting for him at the table looking bright as the sunshine. Draco thought bitterly that she must have slept well. She had exchanged her jeans for her Hogwarts skirt and tucked the pink T-shirt into it, so that it no longer swallowed her. Petunia was still watching Persephone's wild hair and smoothing her own. Dudley was waiting as well. He went back to glaring at Draco the moment he entered the room. Draco sneered back him, not in the mood for that nonsense. He slid into an empty seat, and Mrs. Dursley placed a plate of eggs and sausages in front of him.

"Vernon left early for work," she said as if she thought he might be worried about the fat man's absence.

"I'm so sorry if we put him out," Persephone said apologetically.

"Oh, no, no." Petunia smoothed her hair. "He just had some extra work to do at the office." Draco doubted that was true but decided there was no sense arguing about it. Persephone continued to pour out compliments on Petunia's abilities as a hostess and how charming her home was. Draco had to admit the woman was not completely useless. She had found them a bus line to London that they could afford and a station in walking distance.

After they had finished their breakfast, they packed up their bags and said their goodbyes. However much Petunia enjoyed playing hostess, she made no attempt to get them to stay longer or keep in touch. The sun was very bright and hot as they walked through the neighborhood to the bus station. Draco was finally compelled to take off his jacket. Persephone looked liked she was enjoying a holiday. Draco had to admit the world was less frightening when it was washed out with sunshine.

"I was thinking," he said. "Maybe you should go straight to Hogwarts. I mean Harry will be there soon, and it's not like you ran off on purpose. They might even let you go back to school."

"Really?" She looked delighted at the prospect. "That would be wonderful, but what about you? You have another year to go, don't you?"

"I'm not sure what I'll do." Draco longed for the familiarity of the castle walls more than he ever had before, but he was running for his life. He had not even considered finishing up his schooling. "They'll know where to find me if I go to Hogwarts," he reminded her.

"I know," she said. "But it'll fit with the note you left."

Draco mulled it over. He would be too easy to find at Hogwarts, but at the same time, he was not sure he could hide any better on his own. At Hogwarts at least there was Professor Snape who... "Persephone, I need you to promise me something."

"What is it?"

"You told me you didn't want revenge," he said. "I'm going to hold you to that. You have to promise me that you won't tell anyone, and I mean anyone, that it was my mother who put you in that portrait." The smile faded from her face, and she paused on the sidewalk. "Look, she's in enough trouble with this Death Eater stuff already. And if father found out... if Voldemort found out, she'd been hiding a Potter..."

Persephone looked up at him. "Okay, I promise. I don't really want to get Narci in trouble. I'm not going to lie though."

"Fair enough," Draco said. "But no matter who asks you or how, you can't tell them it was my mother. Even if you trust them completely. Vol-...the Dark Lord has ways to know things."

"I said, I promised," Persephone said. "I meant it. I keep my promises." Draco believed her. Her sincere, silver eyes were looking straight into his, and he was the one who had to look away.

He resumed walking. "The question then," he continued. "Is how do we get to Hogwarts?"

"Take the express, of course," she said.

"But the train doesn't leave for three days. You want to just hang about Diagon Alley and see who recognizes us?"

"The student train doesn't leave for three days, but the one to Hogsmeade runs more often than that. It's the same stop."

Draco snorted, irritated and feeling a little dumb. He had known that. "Fine," he said. "I'll take you to Hogwarts."

They found the bus station and the remainder of their pound notes went into tickets. The bus ride was not any less unpleasant than any of the other Muggle transportation Draco had experienced. The seats were uncomfortable, and there were more funny smells. Despite his discomfort, he was slightly amused by Persephone who kept pointing out the window and chirping, "Oh, look at that!"

The bus let them off near Hyde Park, and they had a very long walk to Kings Cross Station. They could have taken the Underground, if the pound notes were not completely gone. At least, it was a nice day, and Draco was familiar enough with this part of London. A few times, he thought he spotted other wizards and would push Persephone into an alley or duck into a shop. His unease grew as they approached the station, but he forced himself to stick with the plan.

They pressed through the crowds at King's Cross and slid through the barrier to Platform 9¾. Draco did his best not to look anyone in the eye and wished Persephone was doing the same. She was so interested in everything that some of the other wizards were looking at them curiously, like they might actually be a couple of Muggles who had wandered onto the platform by accident. Draco found the ticket booth and was incredibly happy that he could pay with Galleons. There was a train leaving for Hogsmeade in an hour. They waited on a bench. Draco kept his face in his hands hoping that no one would recognize him. Persephone sat kicking her feet and patting his back. Maybe she was hoping someone would recognize her, though she kept her hat pinned down over her hair.

The train that appeared was green and shorter than the Hogwarts Express. They boarded quickly, hoping that they could keep a compartment to themselves. Fate was not prepared to let them go that easily, and four middle-aged witches squeezed into the cimpartment with them. Draco put the jacket over his head and tried to sleep sitting up in the corner. He had no better success on the train than he had at the Dursleys'. Every time he came close, the witches would start clucking loudly over something from Witch Weekly or start giggling about some half-imaginary scandal in The Quibbler. Draco did his best to ignore them. Persephone must have been nervous about going to Hogwarts, because she did not let the witches draw her into their conversation. She squeezed next to Draco.

Last night he had missed her, but having her thigh pressed against his on the train was just making him more uncomfortable. He did not bother pulling down the jacket to tell her so, so she stayed. After a few hours, she laid her head on his shoulder. This made him even less comfortable, but again, he did not emerge from the safety of his jacket to tell her. He drifted in and out. He drifted out for a longer than usual period. When he awoke, the witches were gone and Persephone handed him a cauldron cake along with some pumpkin juice. He would have been annoyed with her for going into his bag without asking, but he was hungry. Draco took advantage of the witches' absence to stretch out on the train bench. This helped him stay asleep for longer periods of time.

The train seemed to take even longer than usual to reach Hogwarts. He guessed they must have been making stops while he slept. He did not stay conscious long enough to wonder where. Persephone continued to be unusually quiet, she sat across from him by the window and watched the scenery roll by.

***************

Draco came around as the train pulled into the Hogsmeade Station. He picked up the bag with his broom, and Persephone took the other one. They stepped off the train and waited for the crowd to thin. It took Draco a few minutes to come to full consciousness. He could see the castle, but they still had a long walk around the lake and up the hill. "Oh, bugger this," Draco said and pulled his broom out of the bag. A few clothing articles fell out with it, and Persephone stuffed them back in. Draco mounted the broom, and Persephone got on behind him, the two sacks awkwardly slung over her shoulders. Some of the passengers standing around watched them curiously.

An official looking man, started to approach them. "Hey, you can't-."

Draco kicked off and sped across the lake. Persephone clinched her arms around his middle, but not with same death grip she had had before. Draco sped towards the castle courtyard, though he did not have time to take the Timebender up to its top speed. He set down in the deserted castle courtyard. They dismounted, and Draco took a deep breath. He wanted to steel himself before they went inside. He wanted to make sure he and Persephone had their story worked out before-

"Well," a soft voice came from behind him. Draco spun around. His heart was pounding. The wizened old face of Albus Dumbledore looked back at him. "It looks like a pair of Muggles have found their way to Hogwarts." He stepped across the courtyard to them. His long silver-white hair and beard seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. "But we've never had Muggles at Hogwarts before." He stopped a few feet from them and looked questioningly at Draco. Draco tried to speak but could not find any words. "Well, Mr. Malfoy. Why don't you and Ms. Potter come up to my office and have a chat?"

The Headmaster led them inside, up the stairs and behind a gargoyle statue that rolled out of their way to reveal a spiral staircase. At the top of the twisting stair was a round office, filled with many interesting devices, but Draco was too nervous to look at any of them. Professor Dumbledore crossed the room and sat down at a claw-footed desk. He motioned for them to have a seat in the two chairs placed before it. Persephone dropped smartly into hers. Her smile was wide and only slightly nervous. Draco sank into his chair and wished he could keep sinking, through the floor, through the castle, straight through to the center of the earth where no one could find him.

"It is good to have you back, Persephone," Dumbledore said smiling at her. "You can imagine the surprise at the Ministry of Magic, when they got reports of an underage witch doing magic, not once but three times within an hour, particularly when that young witch has been missing for twenty years. I have gotten quite a few owls today. I don't suppose you could enlighten me as to where you have been hiding?"

"I wasn't hiding," Persephone said. "I was kidnapped."

"I suspected that," Dumbledore said, his voice still gentle. Draco thought he sounded far too casual about it. "I would like to hear all about it, but you will forgive me if I first ask you how you have remained so well preserved?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Persephone said. "They kept me in a painting, you see. I suppose no one ever gets any older in a painting."

"This is true," said one of the portraits of a former Headmaster hanging on the wall. "I haven't age a day in sixty years."

"I have seen far too many reasons for disappearances in my time, but I must say that is a new one for me," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Well, the Department of Time should be relieved they won't have to get involved. I was afraid this might fall into their jurisdiction, and they are very difficult to work with."

"There's no such thing as the Department of Time," Draco blurted. The Department of Time was just a myth, a secret agency that people wrote interesting bedtime stories about, but no serious wizards thought it existed. It irritated him that Dumbledore could make jokes while he was so nervous.

"Of course not," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. Draco knew he was having fun with him, but he got the irritating impression that the old man knew something he did not. "May I ask how you escaped your painting?"

"Draco rescued me, sir," Persephone said, sounding very proud of him for doing so. Draco did not think he deserved to be praised and sat stiffly. "That's why he and I had to use magic. We were escaping."

Draco tried not to wince. "I was unaware you had violated the restriction on underage wizardry, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, turning his eyes to Draco again. Draco's father had set up a masking barrier around Draco's room so that he could practice his spells during the summer months. He had violated the restriction hundreds of times, but he did not want to admit that to Dumbledore.

"Well, it was mainly me," Persephone volunteered. "Draco only did one spell to get me out. Maybe it doesn't count because it was a magical device of sorts. Using those doesn't count." Dumbledore continued to look at Draco in a way that made him certain the old man knew exactly what had taken place but was waiting for them to confess to it. "They're not going to snap my wand are they?"

"Under the circumstances, I greatly doubt it," Dumbledore reassured her, finally shifting his attention away from Draco. "Now, Ms. Potter, may I know the name of your creative kidnapper?"

"No, sir," Persephone said softly. Dumbledore raised a bushy eyebrow. "I promised not to tell."

Dumbledore's eyes flicked to Draco then back to Persephone. "And to whom did you make this promise?"

"If I told you that, Headmaster, it might indicate who it was, and that would break my promise indirectly." Draco wished he could feel relief, but Persephone's answer put him on edge.

"I see. Could you tell me where your painting has been hanging all these years?"

"I was in an attic, sir."

"May I ask which attic?" Dumbledore's voice stayed calm, but Draco thought he heard a hint of irritation. Or maybe he was imagining it. Maybe Dumbledore was just being understandably curious and did not have a clue who was actually behind Persephone's disappearance.

Persephone looked a little frustrated herself. "Sir, if I told you that, it might lead you to the person who put me in, and I promised not to tell. If what Draco told me is true, they probably saved my life...even if it was unintentional, and I owe them something for that. They can't hurt me anymore. So I don't see the point in breaking that promise."

Dumbledore smiled sadly at Persephone. "Well, I do not think it was a very wise promise, but I will not be the one to push you to break it." The old man picked up a letter from his desk. "I received an owl from your mother as well, Mr. Malfoy. She claims you pulled a bit of a disappearing act and wanted me to contact her the moment you arrived at Hogwarts."

"Did you?" Draco asked. The dread was now clamping his chest tightly.

"Not yet," Dumbledore said, studying him. "But it would be very irresponsible of me to ignore such a simple request from a worried parent."

Draco felt the clinching ease a bit. Something resembling bravery pushed his own requests out. "Could you wait a few days? Until the Hogwarts train arrives normally? And could you not mention Persephone?"

"Now, young Draco, why would you want me to lie to your mother? If I remember, Persephone, you were friends with Narcissa Black in school," Dumbledore said still studying Draco. "She would undoubtedly want to hear that both of you are safe."

"But we're not safe!" Draco blurted. He continued quickly, trying to sound concerned rather than panicked. "I mean Persephone isn't. She's a Potter. That means she would go straight to the top of Voldemort's hit list. He'd try to use her to get to Harry, wouldn't he?"

Dumbledore's face finally took on the seriousness that Draco thought the situation deserved. "Yes, unfortunately that is exactly what it means."

Draco felt a little more confident and pushed on. "And if you sent an owl, it could be intercepted. Even if you left out Persephone's name and just put that 'Draco showed up to school three days early with a strange girl', then she...or the person who was keeping Persephone...or anyone who might want to hurt her or Harry...well, they might be able to put it together, wouldn't they?" Draco had felt more confident, but the confidence had not reached his voice. He realized that he still sounded very nervous.

Dumbledore continued to study Draco with his serious look, like he could read Draco's mind. Draco slapped his Occlumency tight around his mind. Anger replaced his anxiety. You're hoping I'll tell you something, old man, he thought bitterly. This concern is an act. You're just hoping I'll spy for you too.

Dumbledore had organized the Order of the Phoenix that stood in opposition to Voldemort's Death Eaters. Dumbledore knew better than anyone what Draco's father had been arrested for and how deeply his mother was probably wrapped up in the whole affair. He must have lacked evidence to act against his mother, or Draco was certain he would put her in jail as well.

Draco felt angry and betrayed by his father for bringing Voldemort into their lives. He was even more deeply disturbed by how his mother had lied to his father and attacked a friend out of phantom jealousy. He did not want to think about the crimes he suspected that they had committed and would commit. But they were still his parents. He was not going to be the one who betrayed them.

"Sir," Persephone peeped, drawing Dumbledore's attention to herself. "I was wondering. Do you think I could go back to school this year?"

A smile played briefly across Dumbledore lips. "We'll see what can do, Ms. Potter. As Mr. Malfoy has pointed out, we need to exercise some discretion for your own safety, but I honestly can't think of a safer place for you to stay than Hogwarts. We have a few days before term starts to work it all out. I see no point in sending you and Mr. Malfoy back to London, so I suppose you'll just stay here for the remainder of the summer."

"I don't know if I'm staying at Hogwarts this year," Draco said blandly.

Dumbledore gave him a penetrating stare. "And where would you go, Mr. Malfoy?"

Of course, that was Draco's whole problem.