7. This New Life

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August 7th 1998 | The day after Harry left

Draco spent his morning running laps around Hogwarts. Each step sent jolting pains up his legs but he didn't stop running despite the ache. He gritted his teeth, bore the uncomfortable pains and kept running. He had to. He needed to. It was what Harry would have been doing if he had still been at Hogwarts. Harry would have enjoyed this. Draco had been running for four hours and he had practically worn his feet down to stumps. He had blisters on top of his blisters but he honestly didn't care much past the pain. Severus would heal him later.

He wasn't ready to go back inside yet.

When he woke this morning, the first thing he did was look out the window to see if Harry was running past yet. Then he checked Harry's room, which was still full of Harry's possessions because Bill wouldn't let them pack anything. But Harry wasn't there.

It was like an avalanche of emotion. Surprise, shock, horror, loss, resentment, fear: mostly agony, agony,agony. The emotions poured over him, knocking him to his knees as they clamoured over him and under him and through him, choking him and burying him alive. He gasped for breath, mentally trying to claw his way back to the surface, trying to remember how everything looked before his world had crumbled down around him. He couldn't remember. He sat on his hands and knees, retching but nothing came up, and eventually he had to lean back on his haunches and admit defeat.

It didn't matter how much he grieved or how long he sat staring at the foot of Harry's bed, Harry wasn't coming back. Harry was gone now, buried deeply beneath the avalanche that shook Draco's world, and nothing Draco felt or did was going to bring Harry back to the surface, nothing would bring Harry back into Draco's world.

So Draco ran. Each step that hurt him, that punishment was rightly deserved as far as he cared. He had caused this. He had been the one who left Harry alone with Fenrir, he who had been trusted to protect Harry had left Harry alone, and now Harry was a werewolf. Pain lanced up his legs and into his side. He gasped and clutched at his chest, before wrapping his arms around his rips. He stopped running and tried to catch his breath. His lungs were frantic and his heart beat wildly, trying to cope with his punishing morning exercise.

He wasn't ready to go back inside yet.

He started to run again. Two minutes later, he heard Queen Lily screaming from inside Godric's Hollow. He gave a derisive smile. "They know Harry is gone." He whispered to himself.

Charlie had sent back a letter with Bill. Bill had left it on Harry's pillow and Draco was too much of a coward to explain to the King and Queen himself so he had left the letter there even though its very presence mocked him and made him feel like his heart was bleeding.

It was a piece of white paper, with four long scratches gouged into the surface. Someone had written the letter 'F' beneath the claw mark in curvilinear handwriting. Draco could almost imagine Fenrir shredding sheets and sheets of paper and he tried to get the message just right, and he shuddered. Harry was with that monster now and it was his fault, so he kept running even though his feet ached. Lily screamed again, and Draco thought everyone in Hogwarts could hear her distraught wailing. It made his heart ache, but he ran on.

The pain in his legs, physical, tangible pain was preferable to the overwhelming anguish he was suffering through mentally. He didn't think his heart could take anymore. So he kept running.

---

August 20th 1998 | The night after the Full Moon

He woke again, slowly. His head felt heavy and his muscles screamed in protest. He stretched, wincing at the popping noises his joints made. He scratched at his ribs and gave a sigh as he finally made himself sit up. Harry blinked his eyes slowly taking in his surroundings. He had slept in Fenrir's tent for the past two weeks despite the pains he took to avoid the wolf during the day. No one would disobey the Alpha by letting Harry share their tent or their furs, and Harry wasn't above admitting that he could suck up if it meant not sleeping on the floor outside. Doing that in wolf form, he knew now, wasn't so bad, but as a human it would always be a last-choice option for him.

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