Harry And Draco Chronicles

Chapter 10: Death of a Friend

Westworth Street in London's East End was abandoned, except for the small crowd of people who loitered outside a kebab shop, as they engaged in the exchange of illegal substances. An old building lay across the street that now housed down and out young people, drug addicts, and runaways who had escaped the monotony of their small suburban towns for the glitz of the big city. Most of them slept on the top floor, which lacked the rats that populated most of the lower levels.

Several young ladies, who had hitchhiked from Manchester and now found themselves renting out their bodies to businessmen, were huddled in the corner of the room around a small fire. All around them were people sleeping on cardboard boxes or newspapers. Lying away from everyone else was Draco. He moved around uncomfortably on the hard floor, as he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position. Although he had placed several ratted blankets about his body, they still did not provide much cushion or warmth. But he could not afford to fall asleep, nonetheless, as he had to keep alert for thieves. Although he knew many of the people sleeping in that building, he still did not trust them.

He had been in London for several months, and had slept in many of the city's dilapidated buildings. He much preferred the former jam factory where he now lived, as none of its windows were broken and the police did not conduct many raids on that street. However, being on his own had been a lot harder than he expected. He always assumed he would be able to draw his money from Gringotts. But that plan had gone array; on a trip to Diagon Alley, he saw his father’s henchmen standing outside of the bank, carefully watching all those who entered the building. He realized then that the wizarding community was not safe for him. It was absolute in his mind that his father knew of his mother’s gift, and would go to great lengths to prevent him from getting the money. He spent many nights in that old factory thinking of the punishment his mother must have received for helping him.

While most of the other people spent their days begging on the street corner or pick pocketing unsuspecting tourists in Trafalgar Square, Draco was out nicking merchandise in stores. His most dangerous and thrilling act of thievery occurred when he stole a gold necklace. What happened next was an adrenaline rush that involved him being chased by the police for nearly five blocks. But Draco was able to elude them by hiding in an alley. The necklace later brought him three hundred pounds from the pawnshop. He used that money to pay for a hotel room for several days.

During more desperate times, many of the young men and women around him resorted to prostituting themselves. Although he received many offers from men who were attracted to his boyish looks, he always turned them down; nothing could force him to participate in that sort of activity, regardless of his poverty.

Draco stared out into the darkness, thinking of the life he could have led. He brought his hands up to his face, and eyed the film of dirt that now covered his fingers. It had been a long time since he had showered. He had succumbed to the flu, which made him weak and unable to go on his stealing sprees. He now spend most of his days laying on that floor, only having enough strength to run to his little bucket to throw up. One time, he did not make it to the bucket in time and got sick on himself. It was only through the kindness of the young girls from Manchester, who got him food and even stole him a new shirt and flu medicine from Woolworth's, that he was able to survive.

He had often thought of traveling to Surrey to visit Harry at his relatives' house. But he stopped himself; he surely did not want the other boy to see him in such a horrible state.

Draco brought his blankets tighter around his body, as he began to shiver. He then closed eyes, and allowed himself to finally drift off to sleep.

~*~*~

A tinge of orange flickered in the sky above, welcoming the incoming nightfall. The streets below were packed with bodies, as people wandered from store to store, in attempts to take advantage of the sales occurring in many of Diagon Alley's establishments. Amongst the throng of people was Harry. He was wedged between Mrs. Weasley and Sirius, as they made their way to Amazing Alexander's House Fixtures. They, plus Hermione, Ron and the rest of the Weasley clan had just finished having dinner together at The Leaky Cauldron in celebration of the three friends' graduation from Hogwarts. Everyone had now gone their separate ways in search of their own amusement and delight.

Ron and Hermione had gone to find supplies for her new job as a researcher in a medical center in Leeds. No one of course was surprised when Hermione was offered the prestigious position. They were all happy for her, except for Ron, who complained about the distance that would be between them. But Hermione assured her fretting boyfriend that they would spend lots of time together, now that she had received her Apparating license. Harry had wanted to get his own license, but other events that summer had prevented him from doing so; Ron, on the other hand, had given up after realizing the studying that it entailed.

Those few days following his graduation from school had been hectic indeed for Harry. He had spent much of that time adjusting to a new home with Sirius. He always assumed moving out of the Dursley household would be easy, since he knew he had long outstayed his welcome; but he was wrong. Although years of neglect and emotional strife characterized his time spent in that house, deep down, he felt a lot of sadness for his aunt and cousin for having lost his uncle that past winter. He had even spent time preparing a speech, which he hoped would express his condolences. But he decided not to bother reading it when he saw the dispassionate expression on his aunt's face and the way she avoided making eye contact with him. Dudley, however, had some sadness in his eyes; Harry guessed his chubby cousin was saddened because he would no longer have anyone to bully.

Harry's new house was on a tree-lined street in a Muggle community. Although he had adjusted to his new living arrangements, he still found himself hiding food underneath his bed - an embarrassing side effect of having been starved for all those years. He would often spend many nights staring out the window, as he watched the neighborhood children play football in the streets. The tranquility he now faced in his life saddened him; he wished he had experienced that same happiness when he was younger, instead of suffering under the rule of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley.

Sirius, on the other hand, did not meet the prospect of getting the house with much joy. He frowned upon the idea of Harry using a bulk of his savings to buy the property; he much would have liked to be the one supporting the youngster, instead of the other way around. Although Sirius had a new job at the Ministry as an investigator - it was the Ministry's way of apologizing for wrongfully jailing him - his paycheck still couldn't compete with the goldmine that was in Harry's vault.

Harry looked up at his godfather then, and eyed the grimace that was now on his face from the stares he received from others around him. Although all charges of murder had been dropped and the Daily Prophet had printed a story on how he was setup by Pettigrew, people still greeted Sirius with uncertainty; and often moved away and whispered to one another when they saw him. Harry placed his hand on Sirius' shoulder, as he tried his best to relax the man. Sirius glanced at him, and smiled weakly. Harry then wondered if it was a good idea to bring him to Diagon Alley, as large crowds often irritated him. But before he had a chance to ask if Sirius wanted to leave, Molly began to talk.

"The store is right over there," said Mrs. Weasley, as she grabbed Sirius' shirt. She glanced over her shoulder at Harry. "You don't have to go inside with us dear. Your bedroom is already finished. Why don't you go and have some fun. Maybe you can join the twins. They're around here somewhere." Her arm encircled around Sirius' as she led him into the store. "What kind of decor do you want for your bedroom? Do you want classic, traditional or...maybe you're a rustic kind of guy."

Harry watched them disappear into the crowd. He'd seen Percy and Penelope walk by earlier, but decided not to chase after them, as they needed their time alone. And since the prospect of finding Ron and Hermione seemed arduous - he did want to fight through the sea of people - he decided to go to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor for a much-needed break.

Sitting at the table with his milkshake in front of him, Harry sat back in his chair and eyed the people around him. A few tables away he saw Seamus Finnegan having dinner with Mr. Bagman. A knowing smile curled onto the corner of his lips; he too had had such dinners with various members of the Ministry of Magic, when they attempted to court him into accepting a job with their department. But in the end, Harry decided that the Ministry was not for him.

He had spent many days agonizing over what to do with his future. All around him, it seemed as though everyone else had his or her life in order but him. Even Ron had his future set, as he would be going into business with the twins to help them manage their corporation.

Harry had at one point considered entering into Quidditch, but the demanding travel schedule of a player did not appeal to him. However, things turned bright one June day when he received a letter from the Firebolt Corporation, asking him to join their design team. The prospect of creating racing brooms appealed to the young man. And a tour of the company's headquarters in Sussex convinced him that he had finally found his calling.

He was busy daydreaming of his upcoming employment that winter, when the loud chattering of a group of passersby caught his attention. He sank down in his chair when several former Slytherins passed his table. Harry slowly moved his chair into the dark shadows of an overhead tree when he realized that the group had decided to congregate in front of his table. He had spent much of his last school year avoiding the Slytherins in the halls and in class. Many of them always greeted him with glares, and whispered "pouf" under their breath whenever he walked by. They blamed him for Draco's withdrawal from school, especially Pansy Parkinson. Harry lowered his head and listened to their idle banter. But soon their conversation peaked his interest when they began to talk about a subject close to his heart.

"Have any of you heard from Draco lately?" asked one of the Slytherins. When no one answered him, he tapped Pansy Parkinson on the shoulder and repeated the question to her.

"What would I want with Draco?" she spat. She then threw the young man a disgusted look, which caused him to glance down at the floor. "Anyway, didn't you see him at Durmstrang last year? I thought he transferred there."

"Draco never enrolled in Durmstrang," said Millicent, as she cut through the crowd, knocking a skinny girl to the ground with her tremendous girth. "It's a good thing he didn't go either, because we were all prepared to beat him to a pulp." She brought her fist down hard against the palm of her hand. "He deserves a beating just for allowing himself to get tricked by Potter."

"I saw Draco this summer," said Goyle. He was in the middle of enjoying his candy and his lips were made sticky by the sugary treat. "My parents forced me to go to his house last summer. Poor guy, his father sure did teach him a lesson." He then took another bite of the candy, appearing to swallow it without chewing. He continued to eat for several more minutes, until he noticed the frustrated looks on the other's faces. He then suddenly realized that everyone was waiting for him to continue. He reluctantly shoved the rest of his candy back in the large bag. "When I was there, I noticed that his father's left hand was all bandaged up. Later when we were eating dinner, I saw some bruises on Draco's face. He tried to hide his face with his long hair, but you could definitely see that he had scars all over his cheek and eye."

"Maybe his father punished him for sleeping with Potter," said another Slytherin.

Pansy elbowed the boy in the side. "They didn't sleep together. And even if they did, Draco wasn't doing it willingly. He was under some sort of spell." She then glanced around the group, her eyes daring anyone to challenge her statement. Everyone remained quiet. She then focused her attention back to Goyle. "Did he mention me, by any chance?"

"Why would he mention you for?"

Pansy gave him a long, searching look. But she soon glanced away when she received nothing in return other than his usual blank expression. But she couldn't hide her interest in knowing more about the blond and asked, "How did he look? Had he changed at all since last year?"

Goyle shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Aside from the scars, he looked the same to me." Seeing that Pansy was about to ask him more questions, the chubby lad moved away from the crowd so he could enjoy his treats without interruption.

Pansy's face then became gloomy. "I sent him a few letters a couple of months ago, but he never responded."

"Maybe he's not interested in you," replied Millicent in a sarcastic tone. "Perhaps he found another boy to replace Potter."

Several of the boys in the group brought their hands to their mouths to hide the smiles that were developing on their lips. Pansy placed her hands on her hips and glared at Millicent. But she had no time to offer a rude retort, as Blaise began to talk. "He probably didn't write back to you," he said, "because he's dead."

Everyone in the group swiftly turned in his direction and stared at him. Harry sat up in his chair.

"That's a horrible thing to say," said Pansy. "You're just saying that because you were always jealous of him."

It was true that Blaise and Draco never were the best of friends. Their rivalry had started when they were both small children and had continued throughout their years in Hogwarts. Blaise had always wanted to be the star pupil in Slytherin, but had to contend with Draco being Snape's favorite.

"It's true," said Blaise. "My mother went over to the manor a month ago and said that Draco was nowhere to be seen. When she asked where he was, Lucius said he died. He said Draco came down with consumption and past away."

An eerie silence spread throughout the group, as everyone lowered their heads and stared at the ground with dismay. Even Millicent, who had been filled with hatred towards Draco for tarnishing the reputation of the Slytherins, looked somewhat upset. But the silence that hung over them was broken when Pansy brought her hands to her face and began to weep. No one approached or attempted to console her, as they all stood around looking awkward. But after her crying had subsided, the group decided to move along down the street.

Harry's hands remained tight around the arm of his chair, causing his knuckles to grow white. His eyes were wide and filled with shock. He too had written Draco over the course of those weeks, but never received a reply. They were to meet some months ago, but Draco never showed up. But Harry never fretted; he assumed the young man was busy with other things in his life. He always hoped Draco would surprise him with an unexpected letter or visit during that summer. But those dreams were now bashed. Blaise's words then echoed in his head. Draco could not be dead, he thought to himself. Being that the Malfoy family's whereabouts was chronicled in the Daily Prophet on a continuous basis, it seemed odd that there was no story on Draco's death. Seeing as that the family was always quick to display their riches, he surely thought Narcissa and Lucius would have given their son a lavish funeral.

His breathing grew more intense when he thought of the possibility of foul play being involved in the death of Draco. Surely, the blonde's demise would not have been kept so quiet unless his parents had done something to him. His mind then raced with the possibility of Lucius killing the young man. If what Goyle said was true about the bruises, it seemed to Harry that Lucius had the capacity to beat his family members - and probably even kill them. He soon felt hot tears trickle down his cheek. He lowered his head onto the table and wept.