Until Death Parts Us... Which Might Be Sooner Than We Think

Chapter 01

DRACO

The blow hit him like a gunshot - in an instant. He wasn't ready for it. The force of the blow knocked him ten feet - right into the end post of his bed. It was wrought iron (dark green, with silver serpents entwined around each post - not that that mattered at the moment), so he knew as well as he could feel that it would leave a horrible mark. No bother - just one more to add to the growing roster his father was inflicting upon him. He already had a readily-swelling black eye, and the cut on his top lip was dripping blood into his mouth. It was disgusting.

Lucius Malfoy walked casually over to the bedside table, acting as if he and his son were merely having a friendly chat, as if he weren't in the process of beating the crap out of him. He picked up a tall, silver goblet - decorated with the Malfoy family crest - and took a deep draw from it. Draco knew it was filled with some form of alcohol, his father's familiar vice. Lucius liked to drown himself in alcohol so he could forget - for at least a short time - the duties he was regularly "asked" to perform for his master, Lord Voldemort. This most often resulted in the current situation Draco found himself. If he wasn't around, or was at school, Draco knew his father took his fears and anxieties out on his wife, Draco's mother Narcissa, in the same physical manner.

Lucius set the goblet down hard; a bit of the liquid splashed out onto the tabletop and his hand. He shook his hand carelessly, splattering droplets on the nearby window. He looked up and seemed to consider his son for a moment. Then he walked (a slight swagger in his step) slowly towards Draco, who was still standing by the bed. Lucius stepped very close to Draco, his face dangerously close.

"You got off easy this time, boy. But mark my words - one more word about this... this... this nonsense..." he said, waving his hand airily, "you not wanting to fulfill your duties to the Dark Lord... and it'll be the worse for you. Do. You. Understand. Me?" he said, poking Draco very hard in the chest to enunciate each of the four words. Draco was sure these would leave bruises, too. Lucius turned away from Draco and walked back to the table. He picked up his goblet, seemed to consider it for a moment, looked up at Draco, then chucked the goblet as hard as his drunken state would allow - right at Draco's head. Draco put his hands up to ward off the goblet. It hit his hands and crashed to the floor. Alcohol splashed everywhere. As Lucius' face became livid, Draco knew immediately he'd made a huge mistake.

"YOU DARE, BOY?! YOU DARE BLOCK MY BLOWS?! I was going to leave it here for tonight, but your little stunt has given me some... inspiration."

Lucius came towards Draco again, who cringed away from the oncoming attack. This seemed only to anger Lucius all the more. Blow after blow, kick after kick, rained down on Draco until he fell to the floor. The blows continued. A particularly nasty one, aimed at Draco's head, found its mark, and Draco sank swiftly into unconsciousness.

~*~

Draco awoke much later, though how much later he didn't know. All he knew was that when he had gone unconscious it had been noon and the sun had been high and bright in the sky, and now it was pitch black and he could hardly see anything. After a second, he realized what had awoken him - someone was sponging his forehead with a wet rag. A face came into his view, and he realized it was his mother. He tried to turn his head to look at her, only to begin to panic. He couldn't move. He couldn't move at all!

"Shh," his mother whispered quietly. "It's okay, Draco. I had to put the Full Body-Bind curse on you; you have a lot of injuries. I had to make sure you wouldn't hurt yourself even more once you woke up. Now, we have to hurry. Your father stepped out for a few minutes with Crabbe and Goyle, but he'll be back soon. You have to be gone from here before he gets back. I've already packed your school trunk and contacted the Knight Bus by owl. I told them you'd be at the far edge of the woods."

Narcissa was still whispering. She looked at Draco with such a dejected look, a look so full of despair, that Draco wanted to cry. But he didn't, and wouldn't, of course. He could remember crying only once in his life, and that had been when he was a very small boy. Lucius had pounded any thought of crying out of Draco's system long ago - literally. Narcissa looked around the room furtively, noticeably scared. Then she bent towards Draco again.

"I'm going to lift the Body-Bind from you," she whispered quickly, "but you mustn't move too much. I have to dress your leg and your arm. I mended the broken bones as best I could, but I'm no Healer. They're certainly useable, but you'll need to see the nurse as soon as you get back to school. Madam Pomfrey will be able to fix them so much better." Narcissa took her wand off the bedside table and waved it over Draco's body, mouthing the incantation. At once, he was able to move. He started to rise up, but wished at once that he hadn't. Every infinitesimal twitch sent a jolt of pain through his body, like a shock from a lightning bolt. Narcissa laid her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to lie back against the pillows again. He lay there, panting and shaking, his whole body infused with white hot pain. His father had really done a number on him this time.

Narcissa waved her wand again, first over his left arm, then over his left leg. Immediately, bandages sprung from the tip of her wand and wrapped themselves tightly around both. At Draco's confused look, his mother whispered to him, "Your father used his wand and smashed you up against the wall. I already mended the ribs that broke and wrapped them up." She got up off the bed, and reached down to help Draco up. Very slowly and gingerly, Draco rose up. He let out a small yelp of pain as he accidentally put pressure on his bad arm. "Shh!" his mother whispered urgently. "You have to be quiet. Your father could be back any moment. Crabbe and Goyle just came over to discuss news of the Dark Lord." Once again, she made to help him off the bed. This time, he made it up without yelping in pain, but he couldn't manage without at least a small gasp. When he was standing up, putting all of his weight on his right leg, his mother conjured up a sling out of thin air and very carefully put it around his bandaged arm and tied it around his neck.

"I already bewitched your trunk to be feather-light, and tied it to your broomstick. I'll put a temporary Concealment Charm on you as well. It will only last for five minutes or so, so you'll have to do some pretty swift flying. I know it'll be really hard, with all the pain you're in and your arm in a sling, but I have complete confidence in you. I know you can do it." Narcissa grabbed Draco's cloak from the floor and swung it over his shoulders, fitting the snake clasp together. She took a note off his bedside table that was folded in thirds, and tucked it into the inside pocket of his cloak. "Take that to Gringotts," she whispered to him. "The goblins will know what to do with it."

Draco nodded silently. Words seemed to have failed him. He stared at his mother with somber eyes, his mother who had always sacrificed everything, who had always risked everything for him. She always paid dearly for the help she gave her son, but it never deterred her. The worse of all of her "punishments" came when she helped Draco escape from Malfoy Manor about three weeks before the start of the new school year so he could recuperate from the injuries his father inflicted upon him. However, the punishments had been much more severe this summer. Because Narcissa had had a fair few beatings herself this summer - more so than usual as well - and because Lucius seemed to beat Draco up again the moment he was almost healed from the previous beating, Narcissa hadn't been able to smuggle him out as soon as she normally would have. And, while she would have loved nothing better than to let Draco heal at least a little before he left, they were running out of time. He would now have only a little over a week before he would have to go to King's Cross and catch the train to Hogwarts.

Draco reached out to his mother and enfolded her in a one-armed hug. She hugged him back carefully, not wanting to hurt him. When they pulled apart, Narcissa whispered, "Don't come back, Draco."

"W-What?" he asked, flabbergasted. Whispering, he said, "I've got to come back, Mother. I've got to. I can't just leave you here alone with... with him."

"I'll take care of myself, Draco. I know when to stay out of his way - most of the time. Besides, whatever happens, happens. All I care about is that you're safe."

"And all I care about is that you're safe," Draco said imploringly. He started to say something, but she interrupted him.

"Draco, I'm the parent and you're the child. I worry about you. Not the other way around."

"Maybe that's how it's supposed to be, but it doesn't work that way with me and you. I worry about you all the time."

"I know you do. But, Draco... I can't do this anymore. I've watched him hurt you too many times, for too long, without being able to do anything about it except patch you up when he's through. You've got to leave now, and never look back."

"Okay. But come with me. Please."

"You know I can't do that, Sweetheart. Your father is used to you having to leave for the school year; but you know as well as I do - perhaps better - that he would put out a manhunt of the highest extreme if I disappeared. He would probably get every one of the Dark Lord's supporters on my tale if he could - and I am pretty convinced that he could." They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Narcissa said, "Go. Please. Before he comes back."

At that exact moment, from downstairs, they heard the front door slam so hard it might've knocked the door off its' hinges. Lucius' voice echoed loudly up the stairs as he bellowed, "NARCISSA!! DOWN HERE!! NOW!!"

Narcissa stood there with an absolutely horrified look on her face. "Draco, go. Now!" she whispered to him. "You may not get another chance."

"Okay, Mother." He turned to go. "Wait," he said, turning back. "The Concealment Charm."

"Oh, right." Narcissa picked up her wand from off the bed again, where she had laid it after bandaging her son. She walked over to him and tapped his head. A weird sensation spread through him, as though someone had cracked an ice cold egg over his head, and he knew the spell had worked. He gave his mother one last one-armed squeeze, gave her a swift kiss on the cheek, and said, "Take care of yourself. I love you." He turned away and began to walk - hobble, more like - towards the window. He heard her stifle a sob and say, "I love you," too, but he didn't turn back. He knew if he did, and saw her standing there, alone and helpless, he would lose his nerve and not be able to leave. And he had to leave. If he wasn't out of his father's sight for a long while, he might not survive the next encounter. He knew he had barely survived this one.

Draco walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling mullioned window where his school trunk - feather-light now - was tied to his readily awaiting broomstick. He lifted his left leg - which was extremely hard to do, as it was so tightly bandaged - and very gingerly placed it on the opposite side of his broomstick. The window was flung wide open, which would make it easy for him. He kicked off from the floor, wincing as he had to put pressure on his left leg. But he made no noise. He knew it was imperative he make no more noise - for his mother's sake - now that his father had come back inside. He knew it would be very hard for anyone to see him, even if they were looking (he had noticed, when he'd mounted his broomstick, that the Concealment Charm seemed to spread to his broom and trunk). However, he still jumped - painfully - when he heard the bedroom door crash open behind him and Lucius bellowing at his mother.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO GET YOUR ASS DOWNSTAIRS!!"

But he didn't turn around. He didn't even hesitate. He knew he was as good as dead if he went back. And his mother was an extremely strong woman who had always known her limitations. She would be okay.

He leaned forward slightly on his broomstick to give himself an extra burst of speed. He had to get to the edge of the woods before the charm wore off. Who knew what spies his father had lurking around, ready to catch him and drag him back?

Draco flew steadily, willing himself not to feel the pain and exhaustion that was threatening to engulf him. A couple of minutes later, he began his descent towards the ground, having reached the edge of the woods. He descended very slowly, not wanting to touch down too hard and damage his leg further. As his feet touched the ground, he could feel the Concealment Charm ebbing away. He put out his wand and, a second later, a deafening BANG resounded around the area. There was a sudden blinding light, and a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt directly in front of him. They belonged to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus. A conductor in a purple uniform, who Draco knew was named Stan, and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve- oh."

Stan had finally caught sight of Draco, who was panting and holding himself up with his right hand on the edge of his trunk. He had dropped his broom.

"Mr. Malfoy," Stan said, looking concerned at Draco's condition. He did not, however comment; he was all too used to picking him up like this. "Your mother sent word. We have been expecting you."

"I need - to get - to - the - Leaky - Cauldron," Draco gasped, panting with the effort it was taking him to hold himself up and talk at the same time.

And he collapsed.