Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Broken Window
Broken Window
0 reviewsAfter Draco appears at the Burrow fully nude and bleeding what will happen to the teens as they struggle to get along? Will they return to Hogwarts? What romance will bubble during Harry's search f...
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Summary: HBP spoilers! After Draco appears at the Burrow fully nude and bleeding what will happen to the teens as they struggle to get along? Will they return to Hogwarts? What romance will bubble during Harry's search for the Horcruxes? And is Snape on the side of the light? Find out in this griping tale of blood, sweat, and tears.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Ms JKR does.
Chapter Summary: Sitting on a bed, Draco tunes out all lectures and people as he contemplates a possible means of escape. But his thoughts are cut short when the draft causes the boy to look towards where the chilly wind is seeping into the already bitter, cold room. A broken window catches his eye and he can't pull himself out of the fantasy that he might be able to break away from the hell that he is currently in.
Spoilers: Half Blood Prince, OoP, GoF, PoA, CoS, PS
This is dedicated to my lovely Beta Ayumi. Thank you so much for editing this!
Broken Window
The Room at Spinner's End
Through a broken window that rain water pounded into, a weeping blond boy sat in a dark dingy room on the street entitled /Spinner's End/. Greasy, matted-blond tresses were in total disarray, grey orbs leaked tears that fell upon bent knees. A single boy sat, his back against the headboard, his cheeks atop his knees where his chest was pressed against his legs. The knees of his black trouser pants were soaked in cold tears.
Under the only window, where wind was being blown into the room, sat a puddle of rainwater beneath the dirty broken glass. That nippy wind was chilling the boy to the bone, as his thin black linen pants did not keep out the cold.
"You disappointed me, Draco." A voice from the tattered doorway spoke. The blond did not seem to hear him as he recited the speech that had fallen on the deaf ears of the child sitting before him.
For the boy with blonde hair was just a child; not even seventeen when he had been given the job to kill one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Those simple words: 'He's going to kill me' kept on repeating within the child's head. But the boy still remembered what Dumbledore had said. Wild, grey eyes looked toward the tattered doorway, a man with black greasy locks sat in the doorframe his mouth moving to unheard words that had been uttered many times before. Then the orbs focused its attention on the broken window, the window had a large hole that the blond could possibly fit his head through. There was no doubt that the boy could fit through the window if it was opened.
"I'd be surprised if the Dark Lord didn't kill you." With those words the black-haired man left, slamming the door shut as the rusty hinges gave a loud, screeching protest.
Suddenly a blond boy jumped from the bed, his eyes set on the broken glass panel. The Window would not open due to the age and the swollen wood. Thunder shook the ground and the boy punched the glass, the pain was not felt due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. The sounds of breaking glass were swallowed by the storm. He punched the window pane again with his blood soaked fist. The hole was now big enough for the slender boy to jump through.
Without second thought the boy dived out the window. A sickening crack was heard only by the blond wizard as his arm contacted with the tree on his way out of the two story house. When he connected to the ground the blond rolled so that he would not break his legs or neck. The pain in neither his hand nor his broken arm was felt as the boy got up. For a moment the blond looked up at the house of his favorite teacher, and mentor before turning around to gaze at the over-flowing, dirty lake.
The blond only had one thought 'If he can't find me... he can't kill me.'
With that the blond took off into the night at blinding speed, the dilapidated house was left behind him, the lights from the busted windows soon could no longer be seen behind. Screams of a woman when she entered the room several hours later were never heard by the blond boy, for the house was long out of sight and the only sounds were that of a dissipating storm and the sharp intake and outtake of oxygen.
He had forgotten to put on shoes and his now bloody and muddy feet were paying the price, he had no idea how long he had been running, but his adrenaline was still pumping. The blonde started to feel the dull ache of his hand, and the searing pain in his hand, but it did not stop him.
That cold that had once seeped through the broken window now suffocated his body and kept his feet numb; pain that would be radiating off them was not there due to the fact that the blond could not even feel the steps he was taking. He had lost count at one thousand seven hundred thirty-two, and that step seemed to be ages ago. As the boy ran he did not slow his pace, but his legs felt like jelly as each step sent shockwaves up his black-linen clad legs.
The blond then reached a forest, knowing his track could be even more lost if he were to escape into the deep forest he jumped over the broken log in his way not even stopping to think what may lye inside these woods, or what maybe on the other side. Branches whipped at his legs, arms, and his face. One hit his lip causing a sharp intake of air and the pain busted through his whole mouth. Branches cut at his clothing tearing bits of his pants off. Without thinking he tore off his shirt as to not leave too much of a trail. Branches impaled his pale chest leaving gashes, red marks, and scratches. Then he tore off his black linen pants, throwing them aside, slowing briefly as he covered his groin with his arm that was not broken, shielding it's nakedness from getting impaled by the leaves and sharp, knife-like branches.
The boy ran, twigs stabbing his feet, bits of them getting stuck up the heel and soft padding of his feet. Tears mingled with sweat and rain caressed his face. He ran eyes shutting when a branch was about to hit his face, as pain bubbled all over his body. Soon he couldn't hold it in, he let out a strangled sob as he ran naked, his pace only slowing down a fragment.
Wheezing the boy opened his eyes only to be struck by another branch. He started to cough up blood, while weeping as he reached the end of the forest, he ran his pace slowing down dramatically as he reached a field. All the pain bombarded him at once, and he started to sob even harder. His broken arm was limp at his side; his other hand, bloody from punching out the window, still covered his nakedness from view.
All the loss of blood and lack of food started to catch up to the boy. He was exhausted from all the running. He collapsed face first into the soft muddy ground. Slowly coughing up more blood he turned his head to the side, gasping for breath as his lungs burned. He let out a few curse words, and let the darkness that had been ebbing its way into his eyes finally over take him.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Ms JKR does.
Chapter Summary: Sitting on a bed, Draco tunes out all lectures and people as he contemplates a possible means of escape. But his thoughts are cut short when the draft causes the boy to look towards where the chilly wind is seeping into the already bitter, cold room. A broken window catches his eye and he can't pull himself out of the fantasy that he might be able to break away from the hell that he is currently in.
Spoilers: Half Blood Prince, OoP, GoF, PoA, CoS, PS
This is dedicated to my lovely Beta Ayumi. Thank you so much for editing this!
Broken Window
The Room at Spinner's End
Through a broken window that rain water pounded into, a weeping blond boy sat in a dark dingy room on the street entitled /Spinner's End/. Greasy, matted-blond tresses were in total disarray, grey orbs leaked tears that fell upon bent knees. A single boy sat, his back against the headboard, his cheeks atop his knees where his chest was pressed against his legs. The knees of his black trouser pants were soaked in cold tears.
Under the only window, where wind was being blown into the room, sat a puddle of rainwater beneath the dirty broken glass. That nippy wind was chilling the boy to the bone, as his thin black linen pants did not keep out the cold.
"You disappointed me, Draco." A voice from the tattered doorway spoke. The blond did not seem to hear him as he recited the speech that had fallen on the deaf ears of the child sitting before him.
For the boy with blonde hair was just a child; not even seventeen when he had been given the job to kill one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Those simple words: 'He's going to kill me' kept on repeating within the child's head. But the boy still remembered what Dumbledore had said. Wild, grey eyes looked toward the tattered doorway, a man with black greasy locks sat in the doorframe his mouth moving to unheard words that had been uttered many times before. Then the orbs focused its attention on the broken window, the window had a large hole that the blond could possibly fit his head through. There was no doubt that the boy could fit through the window if it was opened.
"I'd be surprised if the Dark Lord didn't kill you." With those words the black-haired man left, slamming the door shut as the rusty hinges gave a loud, screeching protest.
Suddenly a blond boy jumped from the bed, his eyes set on the broken glass panel. The Window would not open due to the age and the swollen wood. Thunder shook the ground and the boy punched the glass, the pain was not felt due to the adrenaline rushing through his body. The sounds of breaking glass were swallowed by the storm. He punched the window pane again with his blood soaked fist. The hole was now big enough for the slender boy to jump through.
Without second thought the boy dived out the window. A sickening crack was heard only by the blond wizard as his arm contacted with the tree on his way out of the two story house. When he connected to the ground the blond rolled so that he would not break his legs or neck. The pain in neither his hand nor his broken arm was felt as the boy got up. For a moment the blond looked up at the house of his favorite teacher, and mentor before turning around to gaze at the over-flowing, dirty lake.
The blond only had one thought 'If he can't find me... he can't kill me.'
With that the blond took off into the night at blinding speed, the dilapidated house was left behind him, the lights from the busted windows soon could no longer be seen behind. Screams of a woman when she entered the room several hours later were never heard by the blond boy, for the house was long out of sight and the only sounds were that of a dissipating storm and the sharp intake and outtake of oxygen.
He had forgotten to put on shoes and his now bloody and muddy feet were paying the price, he had no idea how long he had been running, but his adrenaline was still pumping. The blonde started to feel the dull ache of his hand, and the searing pain in his hand, but it did not stop him.
That cold that had once seeped through the broken window now suffocated his body and kept his feet numb; pain that would be radiating off them was not there due to the fact that the blond could not even feel the steps he was taking. He had lost count at one thousand seven hundred thirty-two, and that step seemed to be ages ago. As the boy ran he did not slow his pace, but his legs felt like jelly as each step sent shockwaves up his black-linen clad legs.
The blond then reached a forest, knowing his track could be even more lost if he were to escape into the deep forest he jumped over the broken log in his way not even stopping to think what may lye inside these woods, or what maybe on the other side. Branches whipped at his legs, arms, and his face. One hit his lip causing a sharp intake of air and the pain busted through his whole mouth. Branches cut at his clothing tearing bits of his pants off. Without thinking he tore off his shirt as to not leave too much of a trail. Branches impaled his pale chest leaving gashes, red marks, and scratches. Then he tore off his black linen pants, throwing them aside, slowing briefly as he covered his groin with his arm that was not broken, shielding it's nakedness from getting impaled by the leaves and sharp, knife-like branches.
The boy ran, twigs stabbing his feet, bits of them getting stuck up the heel and soft padding of his feet. Tears mingled with sweat and rain caressed his face. He ran eyes shutting when a branch was about to hit his face, as pain bubbled all over his body. Soon he couldn't hold it in, he let out a strangled sob as he ran naked, his pace only slowing down a fragment.
Wheezing the boy opened his eyes only to be struck by another branch. He started to cough up blood, while weeping as he reached the end of the forest, he ran his pace slowing down dramatically as he reached a field. All the pain bombarded him at once, and he started to sob even harder. His broken arm was limp at his side; his other hand, bloody from punching out the window, still covered his nakedness from view.
All the loss of blood and lack of food started to catch up to the boy. He was exhausted from all the running. He collapsed face first into the soft muddy ground. Slowly coughing up more blood he turned his head to the side, gasping for breath as his lungs burned. He let out a few curse words, and let the darkness that had been ebbing its way into his eyes finally over take him.
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