After what seemed like an hour, Draco picked himself up and gave one last glance at the wall. This was no dream. No nightmare. No one was ever going to open that door again and he was now on the other side. The wrong side. Suddenly, Azkaban didn't seem like that bad a place. The Dementors were gone, after all, and at least there were other wizards there. But this!

He turned his head toward the foggy street seen as a long vertical line of white beyond the alley's walls. The idea of Muggle London suddenly terrified him. What was he going to do? He didn't know how to do anything! He'd starve to death. He'd freeze. Maybe that's what they wanted after all. They wanted him to die far away from the Ministry and Azkaban, far away from where nice wizards lived.

New tears welled in his eyes. "Well, they'll have their wish soon enough," he muttered. The sickles and knuts sparkled on the ground and for no reason, he scooped them up and dropped them in his pocket. He made the long walk down the narrow alley and stood at the entrance to the street, just staring at the cars zooming past, the people-Muggles-hurrying in the cold. He shivered and automatically reached for his cloak-but he wasn't wearing one. He began to incant a warming charm-but he had no wand. His heart beat furiously in renewed terror. He would freeze to death. It was damned cold. He wouldn't even make it one night.

He looked back at the wall, trying to see traces of the door.

Think, Draco, think! What could he do? What were his options? He felt the sickles in his pocket and knew that wasn't even enough for one night at the Leaky Cauldron, not that they would even let him in. He wasn't allowed to go to Wizarding places.

Merlin. What am I going to do?

No family. They were gone. No friends. No one would succor him. No money. The Ministry had confiscated the Malfoy estates and their vaults. No place to go.

He flipped his collar up and thrust his hands deep into his pockets and steeped out into the wet lane.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going. He kept his head down and just walked. Did it matter where he ended up? He couldn't think, couldn't come up with any bright ideas. He just walked, and when he was too weary to keep walking, he sat on the kerb, his feet in the gutter. But when he looked up, he found he was across the lane to the Leaky Cauldron. "What the hell--?" He shook his head and lowered it. What he wouldn't give right now for some firewhiskey. He had enough sickles to buy a bottle. But there was no way he could go in.

"You know, there's really no reason to even go on. That would be just perfect. No one would know. Hell. No one would care." But the idea took hold. If he killed himself, his troubles would most definitely be over. He couldn't live like a Muggle. He didn't know how. And the Wizengamot damn well knew it. So if he was dead, that would solve everyone's problems.

But how to do it.

He glanced at the main street off the lane watching cars whizzing past. He could just step in front of a lorry. That would certainly finish him. And he raised up slightly with that intention until he eased down again. No. That sort of thing was too messy. Too…public. He wanted something away from the prying eyes of Muggles. He was a Malfoy. Surely he could be in charge of his own destiny. Then he slumped. "Because it had all worked out so well before," he sneered.

He looked down at his hands lying on his thighs. His wrists. Yes. He could slit his wrists. And his throat as well. No turning back, then. That would do it. Alone somewhere. Somehow, it seemed meant to be.

Just then three boys turned the corner obviously heading for the Leaky Cauldron. Wizards, then? But they were about Draco's age and he didn't recognize any of them from Hogwarts. Maybe they were Squibs. He suddenly remembered the coins in his pocket and his longing for firewhiskey.

"Oi! You lot!" he called to them.

They turned. Not recognizing him. So far so good.

"Any one of you want to make a few sickles? Buy me a bottle of firewhiskey and bring it here."

One boy stepped cautiously forward but stayed on his side of the street. "Yeah? Let's see the money."

"Bring the firewhiskey and I'll give it to you."

The boy shrugged at the other two and stepped inside the door only wizards could see.

A few moments later, the boy returned alone and trotted across the slick lane. He pulled a bottle from his jacket but held the bottle back. "Let's see the money."

Draco took out the sickles and handed it over. The boy pocketed it and thrust the bottle toward him. As he did, Draco noticed a Chocolate Frog package sticking out of his breast pocket. "How much for the Chocolate Frog?"

"How much you got?"

Draco emptied his pockets into his hand and dropped them into the boy's waiting palm. "Take it all. I won't need it anymore."

The boy smiled. "Cheers." He trudged back to the Leaky Cauldron, his pockets fuller, and none the wiser. Now Draco had his last drink and his last meal.

* * *

Draco had a plan. Get himself good and drunk on firewhiskey, break the bottle, and slit his wrists and throat with the shard. He was well on his way to feeling quite numb, as a matter of fact, and found himself a secluded alcove between two buildings. Sitting in a relatively dry corner, he finished off the firewhiskey, staring blurrily at the empty bottle. "That will do nicely," he slurred. He raised the empty bottle and broke it hard against the pavement. It shattered, and a particularly fine shard spun away. Draco crawled after it, grabbed it, and immediately cut his finger. He sucked his finger into his mouth and took the shard carefully in the other hand and then chuckled. "Worried about cutting yourself before you slit your throat, Draco?" The shard was perfect, like a knife; blunt on one edge and sharp on the other.

There was only one task left. His last meal. He tore the package opened and stuffed the Chocolate Frog in his mouth before it could hop away. The sweet chocolate melted on his tongue satisfyingly and he sat back against the wall, eyes closed, enjoying the flavors. He listened to the distant traffic, felt the pavement under him. He tried to feel the world just one last time and not missing it all that much, especially as drunk as he was. He almost tossed the package aside but the old habit of checking the card was stronger and he grabbed it, flipped it over…and froze.

There, looking back at him after lowering his wand, was Harry Potter. He turned to Draco, smiled, and even winked.

"Oh my God."

He turned the card again and couldn't help but scan the cv. "Raised by Muggles," it said. Raised by Muggles. Course if any of the rumours were true, he was more enslaved by them than raised. More like a house elf.

He turned it and looked at the picture again. Potter's wand was raised and a curse open on his mouth. Presumably, this was all aimed at Voldemort. But then the picture of Potter seemed to tire of holding up his wand and he dropped it to his side, turning to Draco again. He shrugged and tucked his wand away.

Draco grasped the card tightly in two fingers and raised it up, ready to fling it into the nearest rubbish pile. But something stayed his hand. Slowly, he lowered it again and stared at the picture. Potter was still there, looking at Draco a little anxiously…or was it Draco's imagination?

This was all so surreal. Was he really sitting in a filthy alley ready to slit his throat? It was a good solution to a bad problem. Potter achieved what Draco had failed at. After Voldemort killed Draco's parents Draco had wanted revenge. But he had spent most of his time just trying to stay alive and out of the Dark Lord's eye. And then when he finally escaped with Snape there wasn't time to plot. No one believed Potter could do it, and at the final battle, Draco only hoped that Potter would serve as a good enough distraction for him to kill the Dark Lord himself. He doubted he could do it, but he knew he would die trying. Like Snape had. The Mudblood was there and so were his ginger-haired freak friends. Certainly distraction enough. But Potter had done it. He had been surrounded by unbelievable power. Potter was indisputably now the scariest wizard there was. And Draco was somehow glad. Glad if it couldn't be himself that killed Voldemort, it was Potter. Because despite all Draco had done to him over the years, he had to grudgingly admit that there was really no one who deserved his revenge more than Harry Potter. Draco knew how it felt now to have the Dark Lord kill one's parents, to be helpless, to never know if the next blast of the Dark Lord's wrath would fall on him. And Potter had had to deal with that since he was eleven.

"Raised like a house elf." Draco had heard the rumours, exploited them, made fun of Potter for them. Lived in a cupboard. Beaten up by his cousin. Starved. Wore those awful clothes ten sizes too large. Yes, that had been great fodder for jokes. And Potter had taken it because he knew they were true. And yet…he had become this incredibly powerful wizard. The papers were saying the equal of Albus Dumbledore. Draco had seen with his own eyes. He knew it was true.

Raised like a house elf. Like a Muggle. Then it could be done. A wizard could survive, even excel in the Muggle world. Of course, Potter didn't have to stay a Muggle. Not like Draco was expected to do.

"If he can do it," he muttered. He pushed against the wall at his back and got unsteadily to his feet. "If sodding Potter can do it, then a Malfoy bloody well can!" He stood and looked around the alley. The card was still tight between his fingers and he pocketed it, not really knowing why. And then he looked at the broken shard. Suddenly, the thing scared him and he heaved it far away. He heard the glass tinkle in the distance.

He staggered forward and wandered on, his mind blurred with alcohol. The sky darkened and it got colder. He ended up under a bridge and glanced hastily at the soul-deadened eyes of the dirty men huddled there, wondering vaguely if Dementors had gotten to them. He was shivering now and found a scrap of cardboard, draped it over himself like a cloak, hunkered down in a lonely corner, and tried to sleep.


On to Chapter Three
"Hogwarts Eternal"

Back to Chapter One
"Aftermath"

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