Not Letting Go

Chapter One: Death Touched Three Souls

Silence drifted through the cold walls of the seven-story manor, making its way through every corner of every room. As it departed one of the more luxurious rooms, it was heard by ears a mere centimeter away from the mouth that had broken the quiet. Two figures gripped each other's hands tightly, on the verge of crushing bone. But their minds didn't register the pain, holding onto each other was all they wanted. Darkness blanketed them, bringing an odd comfort to the scene.

"Live. Be strong. Don't let anyone keep you from being happy. Not even yourself, Draco." The last syllable was mouthed silently, yet he heard it. Whether it was his mind playing tricks, he didn't care. Slowly, the more slender hand's grip weakened until only his mother received the tight hold.

"Mum, please. Don't leave me." A hoarse whisper escaped his lips. He had never used the word "mum" before, taught not to. Malfoys never showed emotion, never showed weakness. But this was not a moment for pride or strength. The only woman who had ever shown him love lay lifeless in his arms. Tears escaped his eyes, threatening to flow endlessly. He repeated his last words as if a chant could bring her back. He knew pain, but never like this. From a childhood of violence, pain was an old friend. But his mother would always care for him, and heal the wounds inflicted on his young body. Draco could never imagine himself getting over the pain of seeing even the smallest wound on her.

For hours, Draco didn't move. He chanted and wept, his tears soaking the bed. His face was wet, and so was his mother's chest where he rested his head, his arm wrapped around her, his hand still gripping hers. His frozen universe was shattered by a loud knock on the door. Fear gripped his heart. He didn't answer, even if he wanted to, his voice was lost. The knocking continued, three knocks each time. He held his mother tighter as if she could still protect him. Then, the most chilling voice he could imagine:

"Draaaccooo."

Though barely a whisper, he recognized it. The one man who could strike more fear in him than a Dementor's kiss.

His father.

But how? His father was in Azkaban. And why was he knocking? Wouldn't he just barge in? Something moved in the shadows, coming towards them. His vision blurred with tears. Blinking, he saw clearly. Two pairs of hands, one young, one old, gripped the edge of the bed, pulling themselves up. Their nails were filled with rotting flesh. The younger creature had long, flowing hair the same color as his, and her face gashed in different directions. The older creature had the same length of hair, but hers was black as the shadows they emerged from. Half her face lacked skin, her inflamed eyes lidless. They crawled towards Draco and Narcissa's corpse. The large bed helped, as their movements were slow and painful. Draco froze, holding his mother protectively.

"Draaaacccooo" came the voice from the door. The doorknob turned. The creatures turned and looked. The door swung open, but no one was there. Slowly, the figure of Lucius Malfoy appeared, his clothes tattered, his face gaunt. The silver irises and black pupils were gone. As he stepped forward, the moonlight revealed he seemed to have aged ten years in Azkaban. Draco knew his father had received the Dementor's Kiss. But that couldn't be right. He shouldn't be there. His question was answered when Lucius' eyes turned dark red, and the creatures retreated into the shadows.

His father, or what was left of him, strode across the room but was blasted away by a house elf's magic, protecting Draco.

"Young master. Take Lady Narcissa away from here. She's best not in this cursed house. Harry Potter will help you. Go now!" Shouted the elf.

On impulse, Draco scooped up his mother and ran, seeing his broom hovering outside. Another house-elf shrunk a cabinet and shoved it into his pockets. He was placed with a hood, as was his mother's body. The elves asked him to place her on a magic carpet.

"This is filled with house-elf magic and will not be detected by the Ministry. It will fly you to Harry Potter." Draco nodded, taking out the cabinet and throwing a sock drawer to the elf.

"You're free. Thank you."

The elves were near tears, but Draco didn't see, as he settled on the carpet with his mother. He had never ridden a magic carpet before, but it was more comfortable than a broom. He noticed a small bag beside him but didn't bother with it. Looking at his mother's calm face, the agony returned, and he cried again. He settled in her arms, falling into a shallow sleep.

He was plagued with nightmares and jolts of pain. All night long, he held onto his mother, seeking comfort and peace.

As dawn approached, the carpet landed on the lawn of Number Four, Privet Drive. Draco stirred, seeing two emerald orbs looking at him with confusion and concern.