Walking Away

He slides to a sitting position on the floor, his normally perfect posture now replaced by a slump. He holds in his hand a small piece of parchment, less than a foot. So small and so powerful.

"I can’t believe he’s doing this," he says, raking a hand through his fine blonde hair. Then he laughs, a cold sound ringing through the empty owlery like a harsh bell. "What am I saying? Of course I can believe it. This is my father we’re dealing with. He wins all the awards for cold bastard of the month."

"And now I’m talking to myself. Christ."

He laughs again, the sound now harsh even to his own ears, and looks out the window. (Not really a window, more a square opening in the stone.) There, a crescent moon, thin and looking like a giant fingernail, casts its pale glow on the earth. And he wishes he could be there, in the sky where things are safe. And for a second, he considers suicide as an option, but pushes it away. He won’t give his father the satisfaction of knowing he drove his disappointment of a son to take his own life.

And, besides, there is still her to think about.

At the thinks of her, his mind flashes with her beautiful face and the ache in his chest is now nearly crippling.

For the first time in nearly five years, he feels like crying.

He swallows the lump in his throat and rises to his feet, drawing himself up straight and crumpling the parchment into a ball as he does. As he exits the owlery, he tosses it out the window.

--

"Ah, Draco, what can I help you with?"

The sight of Albus Dumbledore’s kind gaze and serene smile sets the flame of anger within him blazing brightly. But he pushes it down. The man may be a Muggle loving fool, but he is the only one who can help.

"I got an owl from my father," Draco says, his voice so sharp it could cut steel.

"Ah," Dumbledore says calmly, regarding Draco over his half-moon spectacles. "No more than we expected. Have a seat, if you please."

Draco hesitates before taking a seat, but he remains rigid, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.

"I’m assuming he wishes you to join him in Voldemort’s service." It is not a question.

He nods.

"And what do you think of this?"

Draco sneers. "I would rather die than serve that creature. I mean, I agree with his cause, but what he has turned himself into?" He shakes his head. "I don’t want any part of it."

"Well then," Dumbledore says, taking a lemon drop from a bowl on his desk," It seems you have a few options. You can join your father –" Draco makes a small noise of disgust. "You can join our side of the fight – " Draco raises one eyebrow. "Or you can run."

"Join your side? You mean, fight against the Death Eaters?"

"That is what I mean, yes."

Draco exhales slowly.

"You don’t have to decide right now. But, if you decide to run, it is important you leave soon. I daresay your father will come looking for you if you don’t respond soon."

"How soon?"

"Late tonight. Or early tomorrow morning."

Draco nods, a strange feeling of cold sweeping over him, and rises.

"Just come to me when you make your decision," Dumbledore says kindly, but Draco barely hears him as he walks out the door.

--

He finds himself back in the owlery, pacing. He is surprised he hasn’t worn pits into the stone.

He can run. Part of him knows he should run. It’s the smart thing to do. If he fights, he will almost surely be killed. By his father, most likely.

But if he runs . . . If he runs, he will be safe. He’s almost certain Dumbledore can provide him safe cover. He helped that Animagus Sirius Black hide for nearly two years. He had already known that from his father, and Ginny had confirmed it.

But what about her?

He doesn’t want her to grieve him if he died in battle. More than that, he can’t bear the thought of her seeing him die.

But if he runs, she will think he’s abandoned her.

No. I’ll go to her, I’ll say goodbye. I’ll explain.

His mind made up, he leaves the owlery once again.

--

"So, you will leave tonight, and follow the directions I gave you. You will be safe there."

He nods. "Headmaster?"

"Yes?"

"Can I – Can I say goodbye to someone first?"

Dumbledore regards him as if he knows who it is he is talking about. He probably does. "Of course. But be careful to leave before sunrise."

--

He runs all the way across the castle to the Gryffindor tower. Getting in is no problem. Ginny gave him the password ages ago, and even if she hadn’t Gryffindors are so predictable. Or, he thinks, I could have beaten it out of Longbottom.

He slows to his normal, purposeful stride when he enters the scarlet common room. It is only once he enters that he realizes how late it actually is.

Luckily, there she is, asleep on a wide red chair, an open book in her lap and her red hair falling out of her ponytail into her face. He smiles slightly and is walking toward her when an annoyingly familiar voice cuts through the silence.

"Malfoy."

He turns, with a disdainful smirk on his face. "Potter."

"What do you think you’re doing?" Harry asks, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He looks as if he has just woken up.

"If you must know, I’m saying goodbye to Gin – "

"Goodbye? Why are you saying goodbye? You’re not going anywhere?"

Draco rolls his eyes.

"Wait," Harry says, narrowing his bright green eyes. "You’re leaving, aren’t you?"

"Nice work, genius. You’ve managed to figure something out for your self for once."

"Where the hell are you going?"

"I don’t have to explain to you, Potter. Just leave me alone and let me say goodbye."

"Did you even think about what it will do to Ginny? She loves you. I can’t for the life of me fathom why, but she does. And you’re just abandoning her –"

"I am not abandoning her," Draco says swiftly, his voice ice cold. "I would never abandon her. Don’t get into things you can’t understand."

"You’re right, I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can leave someone you say you love."

Draco sighs. "It’s a bit more complicated than that. And I don’t have time to explain."

He can see the sky lightening through the window and fights the ever-insistent urge to cry.

Turning away from Harry, he kneels beside the chair so that he is level with Ginny. He places a kiss on her forehead, one on each cheek, and finally, ver softly, one on her lips. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. "I love you," he whispers in her ear. "And I’m so sorry."

Standing, wiping his eyes though no tears are there, he turns back to Harry.

"When she wakes, tell her – " he breaks off, unsure of what he wants said. "Tell her I had no choice."

"I’m not explaining for you. I think you had plenty of choice."

The truth in the words stings Draco. But he doesn’t flinch.

"Then tell her nothing. But know this, Potter. You may think I’m being a coward, and you may think I’m carelessly breaking Ginny’s heart. But when the war is over, I will return for her, and I will make it up to her. Because what I feel for her is something your tiny brain cannot even begin to comprehend."

And with that, he walks away.

From Harry.

From Ginny.

From life.

~*~fin~*~