A Beautiful Beginning

~Chapter 13~

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I put glasses on my sleeping dog in the picture, so yeah, I've blessed you with that.

Usually I just put a silly A/N here, but I'm going to be serious for a sec. Thank you so, so much to every single person who reads, votes, comments, or saves this story. You don't even know how much it means to me and Clarissa. We're both excited that this story has 1.31k overall reads. It's literally amazing to me even though it may not be a lot compared to other stories, but hey, it's something. Any-who, without further ado, here's the next chapter :)

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(Harry)

Most people grow up around a caring family and lots of love. Some people grow up with dysfunctional families. And some grow up without anything at all.
I used to think my life with the Dursley's was the worst it could get. That there was no lower point than being made to live in a closet until I was eleven, or being treated as if I were the house maid. However, after experiencing the things I have, I was severely wrong. For instance, being woken up by the sun after taking several beatings by a mentally insane wizard, whilst also having my limbs bound to a chair rendering me immobilized in an unknown location was a damn good example. It wasn't the worst it could get, but it definitely could've been better.
Groaning, I blinked a couple times to get the sleep out of my eyes. Once I'm as awake as I can be without coffee, I bitterly look around and take in the finer details of the room I'm held captive in.
All across the four walls is a pale yellow wallpaper that's starting to peel and crack. Intricate little designs dance across it in a complex way, yet it looks so natural. It reminds me of something that would be in a parlor, or a fancy household. The wooden floor boards are darker in some areas implying something was spilled in those places, and it's clear the floor has seen better days. The only furniture in the room is the chair I'm sitting on, and if I turn my head as far as it will go I can see a old-fashioned oak desk to my left. I think of the possibility of there being something useful on the desk, but I can't fully see it. I'm suddenly struck with the idea to attempt moving my chair using my body. Taking a deep breath and saying a silent prayer, I jerk my body weight, and to my relief the chair moves a couple of inches. I try again and this time the chair moves almost a foot. I wince at the sound the legs make when they connect with the floor, hoping Lucius didn't hear that. I let out an involuntary gasp at what I see. There are dried blood stains splattered across the desk like an abstract painting. What the hell? I almost don't register that the desk is bare in all of my dismay. There goes my chance at escaping anytime soon.
"I didn't think you'd be idiotic—or even awake—enough to try moving around while I was gone."
Even after almost suffering a heart attack I still manage to roll my eyes at his ignorance regarding the way captives think. I glance over at Lucius to see his gaze averted to a point beyond my head. I keep watching him for any tell-tale signs of his ever changing moods. The only thing I could notice was a growing sense of panic, which confused me and brought on more unanswered questions. He strides towards me urgently, a gentle thump following each time his cane hits the floor. Before I could even open my mouth to say something snarky, he raised his cane, swung it like a muggle baseball bat, and struck my head like a player would hit a homerun, knocking me unconscious once again.

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(Draco)

Bright sunlight streamed through the windows in the early hours of the morning wrapping everything in its path in a golden blanket. Including me. I was rushing down corridor after corridor desperately trying my best to reach the Great Hall in record time. I was running fashionably late all because I was so excited and accidentally ended up falling asleep at 6:15 in the morning. I was supposed to meet Luna at 7 in the Great Hall to go over our plan before we executed it. It's 7:46 a. m. Merlin, I hope she's still there, and doesn't regret becoming my friend.
Last night when we got back to the castle we sat down for a much needed break to plan and eat. The Great Hall had been practically empty considering how late it was, so Luna and I needn't worry too much about being overheard in our scheming. By midnight we had come up with a few possible places he could be that we decided to check out in the morning after breakfast at 7. As me and Luna had parted ways, her to wherever she was sleeping and me to the Gryffindor common room, I got to thinking about the clue my father had left. One thing led to another and I ended up in the R.o.R. living off of adrenaline and, for the first time in a couple years, hope. This leads us back to me hurrying down the last set of stairs, all while dodging the people around me. I wasn't as successful as I thought because when I was almost at the bottom a girl ran into me. I only knew it was a girl because of the smell; rosewater and lilies. No guy I know has ever smelt like that. I never actually saw her, and when I turned back to glance back apologetically, I guess she had already blended back into the crowd since there was nobody glaring at me like I'd just committed murder.
Refocusing myself, I took off with my destination in sight. I ran the last 50 feet and yanked the doors open, frantically searching for a blonde head. I couldn't see Luna, so I briskly walked up and down each table until I luckily found her at one of the tables farther away, sipping tea and reading what looked to be an old copy of the Quibbler. I sat down across from her and quickly prepared my breakfast. She looked up at me with a smile to match my nervous, weak one. "I'm sorry that I'm late, and made you wait. I sort of overslept for the first time in a long time."
"Oh, don't worry about it Draco. I quite enjoyed reading about ghosting flys," she said dreamily before taking a sip of her herbal tea. "After you're done eating, you can go check the places down in Hogsmeade, while I check down in the forbidden forest, and we'll meet up at the library after we've searched for him." She must've noticed the distressed look on my face because then she added in a quieter voice, "Don't worry we will find Harry, Draco. We won't give up on him. Not now, not ever."
Her words lit a fire in me. One that I wasn't aware I had. One that made me want to climb mountains and swim through rivers. One that if it got out of hand could burn the whole world down. And all of it revolves around the one person who could give me everything I want, but is so out of reach that it mentally and physically hurts, but because of this fire I won't stop searching till I find Harry.

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I've been walking around Hogsmeade for a couple hours now with no luck. Every place I've thoroughly checked has come up void of Harry or my father. Not that I had really expected them to be here. I know how my father works, and he's very careful when it comes to things like this.
He'd want an undisturbed, unused location to keep a valuable hostage. Somewhere he could do all his torturing in peace, as wrong as that sounds. I sigh trying to think about a place that fits his criteria, and thickly swallow down the bile that wants to come up when I imagine what he's done to Harry. Before my mind strays too far towards that, I check the time with a tempus charm, and decide to head back. As I'm putting my wand back into my pocket I hear a crunch. I find that odd because I don't remember putting anything in there. Putting my hand in my pocket I feel around until I find what I'm looking for. I extract the crumpled piece of paper and unfold it. My eyes skin over the note twice. When I finish reading it the second time, my eyes are wide, and adrenaline is pumping through my body. After the shock has worn off I race out of Hogsmeade towards the castle as quick as my legs will carry me. I need to see Luna and I need to see her now.

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(Harry)

When I regain consciousness for the second time in who knows how long, my mind is a whirlwind of emotions: confusion, alarm, fear, distress. I take deep breaths, breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Once I've considerably calmed down, I try to gain my bearings. There appears to be a makeshift blindfold obscuring my vision. Since I can't use sight to my advantage, I listen carefully for any distinguishable sounds. Nothing but silence. Damnit. Lucius obviously knows what he's doing. I bet he picked up some tricks from his old "master." Some of it probably came as naturally to him as breathing. Considering he most likely grew up in a similar environment as Sirius did it's not a far fetched idea.
At least Sirius didn't give into the blood-purist morals. He knew his family was wrong and he stood up against it; he was not afraid to be different. Being a Gryffindor proved it. Putting up red and gold decorations in his room proved it. Becoming friends with what his family considered "dirty blood," or "blood traitors" proved it. I will always admire Sirius for being different and refusing to believe the lies that were constantly being told by his family.
Your blood doesn't determine your worth. One person's blood is not better than another's. If you were to take my blood and compare it to anyone else's side-by-side, to the naked eye they'd basically be the same.
My thoughts falter, images of an oak desk splashed in blood flashing through my head. I try to remember exactly what it looked like just in case it held any clues. I recall the desk looking like it was very old, and a layer of dust coating the blood . I also remember there being a large scratch across the top, and—I suck in air through my nose. If that desk has never moved—which it appeared that it hadn't ever been disturbed —then the blood that was splattered on the desk would've also been on the walls. The only problem was that it wasn't. There wasn't a single trace of blood on the peeling wallpaper, which means that the blood had been cleaned off. Who would waste their time pointlessly removing old blood from even older wallpaper, and why?
I shake my head trying to rid these questions from my consciousness without success. I don't know how long I spent tossing ideas around in my head, with each one sounding more unlikely than the next. All I know is that I haven't made much progress.
I'm just about to give up when it strikes me. Maybe it was a clue I wasn't supposed to find. It would explain why I was originally faced away from the desk, Lucius' terror stricken face when he looked behind me, and why I now have a blindfold over my eyes. He clearly didn't expect me to physically turn my chair around, and see that or he would've tried harder to keep it from me. Everything's clicked into place except what secrets that bloody old-fashioned desk has to hide.
Suddenly I hear the faintest of noises. I focus all my attention on it and realize that it's only an owl hooting, but by the sounds of it, it's not very close. I sigh realizing that it must be nightfall. I'm silently preparing myself for the restless night ahead of me where the only thing that's going to be in my head is a damn headache in the shape of a desk.

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