When We Fell: A Draco Malfoy Romance

Chapter 16- Leaky Cauldron

After getting the shock of my life by being absolved of my crimes, I was promptly escorted out of the Ministry of Magic, which suited me fine. Apparating away from there was the highlight of my life, and I never plan on returning. 

Although I should be ecstatic, I have worry deep in my gut that won't disappear until I see Draco's face once more. Even if Draco is let free, I have no clue how he will find me since our only plan was to meet in London. 

I apparated to the only place that I could think of considering London wasn't a place that I often frequented: The Leaky Cauldron. 

Suddenly appearing in front of the entrance, I take a few moments to reorient myself with my surroundings; apparating always has a dizzying effect on me. 

I take a deep breath and push through the wooden door, opening up to a long eating hall and bar. The atmosphere is dark and quiet with dim, metal chandeliers hanging from wooden beams.  There are a few visitors scattered around the room enjoying their meals and drinks, but no one turns to stare at me, luckily. Although I am free, I still feel like a criminal who is just about to be dragged back to Azkaban, so I would rather stay under the radar for now. 

I head towards an empty seat at the bar and scan the daily specials, my stomach growling its complaints. I don't know why I bother considering I literally have nothing to my name, no money to pay for food or a room. 

A man behind the bar makes his way towards me while drying a glass with a hand towel, "What can I get ya."

I blush, slightly embarrassed at coming in with no hopes of purchasing anything, "Nothing for me, thank you though."

"Nothing? You're skin and bones surely you would like something. Our soup isn't too revolting; perhaps you'd like that?"

Before leaving the Ministry, the guards kindly offered me some clothing, but I still haven't bathed since arriving at Azkaban. Discretely lowering my nose down to my shoulder, I sniff and find that I am truly disgusting. I must look like a mess. 

"I'd love some soup, but I have nothing to give you in return."

He pauses and critically looks me up and down, observing my distressed state, "You aren't in trouble, are ya?" 

I shake my head, dropping my eyes down to the wooden counter, "No, I've just hit some bad luck recently and lost everything I had to my name." I bat my eyes and sugar coat my situation because I'm pretty sure no one will help me if they find out I just left Azkaban. 

"Hm, well, consider it on me." He sets the glass down on the bar and turns to walk into the kitchen. Some sharp clanking of glass is heard from behind the door before he returns with a steaming bowl of what looks like some sort of potato soup. 

Setting it down in front of me, he gruffs, "You need to get some meat on those bones. When you see Tom walkin' by, stop him and see if he has an empty room for ya."

"Tom?" I ask, my brows knitting together.

"Tom's the innkeeper, a bent little fellow. You'll know him when you see him." 

At that, the barkeeper leaves me alone to enjoy my soup, and I waste no time digging into the slightly sour-tasting broth. I'm thankful nonetheless for any amount of nutrition after surviving on the scrapes that were thrown to me by the guards in Azkaban. 

As I eat, I scan the hall and observe the strange witches and wizards who have gathered here at the Leaky Cauldron tonight. All of them are having their own conversations, enjoying a bottle of who knows what and laughing loudly. 

At the end of the hall, I notice an open door with a staircase inside. An oddly shaped man carrying a heap of blankets is hobbling down the stairs, heading inside the hall. He has a bald head and is wearing a dark robe that falls off his frail body. But the strangest part of him is that he is bent over at the waist, a curve in his back preventing him from straightening to his full height. 

I manage to swallow down the last of my soup before pushing off my barstool. Maneuvering around the tables and rowdy guests, I slowly make my way over to the man I suspect is the Tom the barkeep described. 

I clear my throat, "Excuse me, are you Tom?"

He startles from his task of refolding the blankets and setting them on a shelf, "Yes, who's asking?"

"The barkeep told me to see if you had a room available that I could possibly take for the night. I have nothing to pay for it, however, but perhaps we could work out a deal?"

Tom waves his hand through the air in dismissal, "I have a room on the third floor, room thirty-two. Take it." 

Shocked at how easy that was, I mumble out a "thank you" and quickly run up the stairs before he can change his mind. 

I easily find the old, wooden door labeled thirty-two and push it open. It squeaks in protest as I close it behind me.

The room is simple and overwhelmingly dusty, but it's more than I expected for giving nothing in return. I sit on the quilted bed, and my eyes fall to my feet in exhaustion. So many unanswered questions weigh down on me. The most pressing question is whether or not Draco will join me in freedom or if he will be bound to Azkaban forever. "Even if he did get set free, how would he find me?" I think solemnly. 

Thinking over my options, I decide that staying here at the Leaky Cauldron for a few nights wouldn't hurt. This bar and inn is a common spot for the wandering witch or wizard, so it would be a possibility that Draco may come looking for me here. 

Other than that, I guess I could head back to my childhood home, but there is nothing but bad memories for me there. At the very least, I could grab some clothes and have a shelter over my head until I figured out my next steps. 

Draco and I would dream day and night about getting free from Azkaban, but I never thought it would be like this, sitting in an old inn room alone, unsure where Draco is and what I should do next. Our plans seemed easy: get out, get Draco's inheritance, and buy our dream flat away from the wizarding world. Based on my current situation, it looks like that won't be happening. 

Tired from all the stress, I lay back on the bed, not even bothering to crawl under the covers or take off my shoes and fall asleep. I'll worry about everything tomorrow.