Forbidden Love

Grime and dirt clung to every surface in the tiny little room of some seedy muggle motel in some remote location no one would think of to look for the late Draco Malfoy. If anyone was looking for him anyway. As far as the world knew, Draco's cold and lifeless body had been buried in the Malfoy mausoleum early that morning. Bad blood, most of the wizarding world would be whispering behind closed doors. He got what he deserved. And his father? His father would be furious with him for tainting the Malfoy name. Like he could taint it anymore than it already was. He had heard the Ministry was starting an investigation into his death. How very nice that they should be so concerned about his death. None of them cared about him while he was alive.

Draco surveyed the room Severus had rented for him. It was one of those motels that had rates by the hour. His shoes stuck to the carpeting as he walked across the room. There were dark stains on the comforter of the bed, and Draco tried not to think about what had caused them. The tile floor of the tiny bathroom was black with dirt; mildew grew on the shower curtain and wall. The sink was covered with rusty spots and water dripped from the spigot with annoying regularity. This was his new life, his life on the run.

Draco dropped onto the bed, feeling exhausted. At least it was only for one night. Tomorrow morning he'd assume a new identity, and board a plane bound for America, far away from anyone who could recognize him. Far away from his father and Voldemort and the war that terrorized Europe...and war heroes...a certain black haired hero with a peculiar scar...he forced the thought from his mind. Draco had many years ahead of him to dwell on the past; he didn't want to start now. But sitting on the dirty bed, all alone, with little to distract him from the heaviness of his own heart, Draco's thoughts fought to return to the past.

Draco breathed deeply, his eyes closed. He knew what he should do. He knew he should just get on the plane and leave his old life behind. There was nothing left for him in Europe anymore. But even as he thought these thoughts, somehow, they felt wrong. Because there was something--someone...wasn't there?

No, he was not going to rehash this whole internal argument again. What's done was done, and there was nothing that he could do to change that...right? Green eyes haunted him. Harry was a part of his past, not his present, and certainly not his future. Draco had become what Harry hated most. He traced the dark lines of the Dark Mark yet again. The sight of it on his arm still seemed alien to him. How many times had he seen that mark, brurning brightly on his father's arm as a teenager? But somehow, he'd never really thought he'd see it on his own. The skull grinned at him evily, reminding him of everything he'd left behind.

Draco ran his hands through his hair. This was so hard. No one wrote little self help books on this topic. There was no The Road to Being a Deatheater and Back Again. He sighed, alowing his mind to return to the days of his past.