The beginning of everything
June 24, 1994
Draco
Is it possible to question everything? Everything that we have been taught since we were children, all the values that have been imparted to us? Is it possible to feel so scared by this questioning? To also feel guilty, as if it were wrong to doubt everything that we have been taught? Is it possible to experience all this when you are still just a child, in the end?
My legs tremble from the effort, shocks run through me with every step I take due to the deep cut on the tendon, my lungs burn as I run up the stairs to reach the top of the tower.
He should be here, I saw them bring him here, only he can give me answers, it’s the only chance I have to understand what it really feels like, how one can feel.
My stomach twists with every step I climb, just one more ramp and I will finally see him. The cold air hits me, freezing the sweat on my skin. A shiver of anticipation and fear crawls up my spine.
I climb the last step, placing my hand on the marble to steady myself as I turn the corner. I have to squint, strain my eyes, to be able to see him, only the full moon in the sky helps me locate him.
Behind those bars, sitting on the ground with his head bowed, he looks like a corpse. He is so thin that he seems to be able to pass through the bars, his face is dirty and filthy, his hair is a tangle of knots and kinks.
Would that be my end, if I were to do it? Would I end up like this? Filthy and repugnant behind rusty bars?
“Sirius Black,” I say panting, forcing myself to raise my gaze and chin once in front of his makeshift cell. I must not show any fear, any weakness.
His eyes meet mine, they sparkle in the reflection of the moonlight, similar to those of an animal. He examines my features, letting his gaze run over every part of my body. I would like to back away, move, shift, but I force myself to stand still. The left corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile as he slowly rises from the ground, leaning on his knees. He advances until he touches the bars, towering over me with his height, his hands grip the metal, his dirty and poorly cut nails are a breath away from my face.
“Draco Lucius Malfoy” he hisses, pronouncing my name as if it were an anathema. He reaches out, grabbing a lock of hair that falls on my forehead, twirling it between his fingers. “You are the spitting image of your father, but you have your mother’s eyes.”
I force my body not to move a single millimeter while the multiple murderer Sirius Black plays with my hair.
“I’m not like my father” I whisper, and he abruptly raises his head, his eyes meet mine.
“Really? Don’t you want to become a little Death Eater?” he asks with a sadistic smile, firmly coiling the lock of my hair around his finger.
“No,” I retort without hesitation, I inhale deeply, trying to find somewhere the courage to ask him what I would like.
“How does it feel to be disowned by your own family?”
I can’t react in time, his hand tightens on my throat, taking my breath away. “Why?” he hisses, emphasizing each letter and tightening more and more.
I try to swallow, but his iron grip blocks me. “I-I’m scared…” I stammer with the little breath I have left. He pushes me back and I lose my balance, falling to the ground.
He watches me as I cough for air, my throat burns and my lungs ignite with every breath I take. I feel his penetrating gaze on my back, and even though he’s behind bars, he intimidates me as only my father knows how to do. Was it really a good idea to come to him?
“I felt freer in twelve years at Azkaban than in all my life in that house,” he reveals with more sincerity than I would have thought possible, igniting in me a new hope.
I get up with difficulty, this time as far away as possible from his cell to avoid him touching me, firmly holding the wand towards the iron bars. I might look threatening, if only I didn’t tremble so much.
“If you were to free yourself now, if I were to help you escape, would you be willing to never go back to them and take me with you? I don’t want to go home anymore.”
His head tilts to the right, a disturbing smile on his lips. “Who are they?” he asks, amused.
“The Death Eaters” I reply, underlining the obvious. “You are the only one I can ask: I free you and you help me run away from home, no more Dark Lord and we go elsewhere.”
He throws his head back, his collarbones protrude from the prisoner’s uniform as his laughter vibrates in the air, making my skin crawl.
“And why does the little prince want to run away from home?” he asks, chuckling and staring at me with wide eyes.
“I’m tired of being afraid,” I admit, lowering the wand slightly. “I don’t want to stay there anymore, I want to be free.”
“Is living with a multiple murderer a better option than living with your father?” he asks, running his tongue over the arch of his upper teeth.
I nod, isn’t this a sufficient indicator of my desperation? Can he understand how terrified I am?
A heavy silence envelops us as we observe each other. Did he have to endure everything I have endured? Was he also afraid to stay in the same room with the man who brought him into the world? Had his house also become a prison for him?
The tolling of the clock scares both of us, his gaze shifts quickly to my shoulders, staring at an indefinite point in the night sky.
“You have to go away!” he shouts, beating his palms against the bars. “They’re coming, get out!”
A sense of panic grips my stomach as I turn to see who is approaching. “They must not find you here! Run!” he yells again.
Who must not find me? The Death Eaters? My legs start to move instinctively until I reach a column, where I hide, while terror crawls over me.
I would like to scream, I would like to immediately return to the underground, I would like to hide in my room.
“Sirius!” I hear someone shout and I cautiously stick my head out to try to see what is happening. I remain motionless, petrified.
I see Sirius Black and Harry Potter flying away on the hippogriff, which today was supposed to be executed to heal my father’s complexes. Why did he save the man accused of killing his parents? Why did he free a Death Eater?
I am about to leave my hiding place when the glow of a wand forces me to take refuge again in the shadow. Only it’s too late.
“Malfoy?” asks a voice that, unfortunately, I know all too well.
I put on the usual mask, pretending to act as I have done for years, forcing myself to stand up and face her. “What do you want, mudblood?”
Hermione Granger advances threateningly with her wand, I see the hatred in her eyes and I am sure she is about to cast a curse on me when another chime of the clock distracts her. She gives me one last icy look before rushing down the stairs.
As soon as I see her curly head disappear, I collapse on my already skinned knees. When did I fall?
I just lost everything. Saint Potter just took away my only chance to escape from that house, the only opportunity I had to get away from there.
Tears burn behind my eyes and I struggle to hold back even just one.
The Malfoys never cry, it’s a sign of weakness.
Now that Sirius Black is free, now that he too has escaped, who can I ask for help? No one.
It was the only way I had to escape from my house, his freedom in exchange for mine was the only bargaining chip I had available.
Little and pathetic Draco, are you so desperate to seek help in a murderer escaped from Azkaban, disowned by his family and now he can’t even help you anymore.
I am alone.
July 23, 1994
Sirius
Free.
I’ve been free for a couple of months, not only from Azkaban but also from the weight that oppressed me, from the guilt of having disappointed Remus and from Harry’s obsession with hatred.
Sometimes, when I breathe deeply, I feel a burning in my lungs from the fresh air, the sun touches my skin and I feel like I’m being reborn.
However, mentally I still feel imprisoned behind those bars, I am no longer the person I was, I realize it more and more, my reaction to stimuli has changed, I have become more impulsive, more aggressive. More violent.
Lupin and I are in a forest, I don’t know which one, it’s early morning and he’s recovering from the just passed full moon night. It’s as if we’ve gone back in time, to Hogwarts, I’ve gone back to being the usual Padfoot who transforms to be by his friend’s side on the hardest nights.
Remus is exactly as I remembered him, the sun reflecting on his scars seems to only caress his skin, the yellow of his eyes shines now as in the darkest nights.
“Moony, can I ask you a question? It’s a bit delicate, it’s about that evening”, I ask, waiting for his permission to continue. In fact, I only start talking again after his nod of assent.
That evening, the evening we found each other, everything came back to the surface. He hasn’t forgiven me yet for not trusting him, for considering him a spy, and I can’t blame him.
He would never have thought that I could be it just because I’m a Black.
“What can you tell me about Draco Malfoy? Lucius’s son”, I ask, taking a wide berth on the subject.
Remus frowns, making a thoughtful grimace that accentuates even more the scar that covers half his face.
“He’s sort of your great-nephew, right? In any case, there’s little to say, he’s a real jerk, the worthy son of his father”, he says almost growling.
“Even though…”, he continues, softening his voice, “once he managed to move me. I had brought a boggart to class and he didn’t participate in the exercise. But that night, while I was in my study, I saw him enter the classroom and try to face it. And guess what form it took? That of his father.”
A shiver runs down my spine. How much I wouldn’t want to understand and how much, unfortunately, I am well aware of the situation he is in. He preferred to run away with me, a multiple murderer Death Eater for all he knew, rather than continue to live in that house with Lucius Malfoy.
“He asked me for help, the same night Harry freed me. He offered me freedom in exchange for the chance to run away from his home,” I murmur, staring at the cigarette between my fingers.
Remus turns sharply towards me, staring at me in silence as he processes what I’ve told him and the possible implications.
“And you want to help him, don’t you?” he asks, lifting only one corner of his mouth, “you have to stop identifying yourself in every pureblood with problems with his parents.”
I punch him on the arm, before leaning on his chest.
“I had my escape route, thanks to James. He sought it from me and I don’t want to deny it to him,” I admit. My heart painfully tightens just to name my best friend. His absence has left a void in my chest.
He runs a finger over the scars left by the cuts on my back made by my mother, looking at them with the same compassion as the first time, with the same compassion as when, drunk, I managed to describe to him the punishments of my parents.
He gets up, offering me his hand. “Let’s go Sirius, first we sleep a little and then we elaborate a plan.”
My lips immediately find his just before the disapparition.
Despite everything, so understanding and available.
My Moony.