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If You Take Time to Look by QuidditchSeeker
Chapter 4 : Borgin and Burkes
 
Rating: 15+Chapter Reviews: 7


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Draco could blind himself with a spell gone wrong, and he would still know his way around Diagon Alley. There wasn't a single cobblestone he hadn't memorized or a shop name he didn't know. He had spent his early childhood wandering around these shops with his mother before his parents had decided he was a threat to their reputation. That happened the Christmas during his first year at Hogwarts, when he had come home and announced to his parents he wanted to invite Terry Boot over for an afternoon.

Terry Boot, whose father was an Auror and whose mother had been a jury member when Draco's father had first gone to trial years before.

Lucius and his mother had put him in the basement that Christmas to teach him a lesson. That summer, however, they acted as though nothing had happened and celebrated his birthday with lavish presents. Draco forced himself to forget how his parents had reacted, and as he had promised them while begging that past holiday, he had not spoken to Terry Boot again.

As the years carried on, Draco spent more and more of his time down in that basement for slip-ups he made. Once it was because he accidentally said hello to a mudblood on the street, another because he had been impolite to a fellow Death Eater at a dinner party. Once, he was thrown into the dungeon for a week, because he had used the wrong fork at the dinner table. Soon after that incident Lucius had announced that Draco would be living in the dungeon until he was able to afford his own house.

Unfortunately, the wizarding world wouldn't allow you to buy your own flat unless you were seventeen. Draco had three hundred and fifty six days left until he was of age – and when that day came, he would be out of his house as fast as he could.

But as of now, Draco was left to wander the streets of Diagon Alley, wondering when he could finally go back to the Leaky Cauldron and return to his room. Maybe he could explain to Tom what had happened – explain why he couldn't go around trying to introduce Draco to other teenagers. Except he knew the truth; he knew that he couldn't tell Tom because it was his secret, and his secret only. No one was supposed to know who he really was.

He didn't even know who he really was.

Draco took the time to shove his robes back so that his muggle clothes were exposed and rolled up the sleeves. In the heat of the afternoon sun, Draco had only just discovered how hot these robes could be. Maybe there was a reason muggle's dressed the way they did – it certainly was cooler.

As he walked, he kept his head down so that no one who knew his parents could recognize him. For the most part, that small act of shame worked until Draco found himself knocking a fragile female down.

He heard a voice let out a small gasp of surprise just in time for him to reach out and grab the girl's wrist to keep her from falling. Pulling her up, Draco steadied her with his head still faced downwards as he sneered, "Watch where you're going."

"Oh, I will. Just...maybe if you kept you're head up it would help a little," a soft voice replied.

Draco raised his head up to find himself staring into a set of bright blue eyes hidden behind a pair of black-framed glasses. Long, straight brown hair was scraped back into a high ponytail, and the face surrounding the glasses was incredibly pale. The girl's body was tiny and thin, and had a small amount of curves. He could feel himself wanting to blush, but instead said nonchalantly, "Oh. It's you."

A look of anger and embarrassment crossed her face as she stammered, "D—Draco Malfoy. I should have known."

"Should you have?" he sneered. "What? Do I make it common practice to go around with my head down and running into shy, little girls? I thought you believed me to be the type with my nose constantly in the air." Draco watched as her glasses began to slip slowly down her nose as the two glared at each other.

She pushed her glasses up and replied, "You seem like the type of person who could care less about the world around you as long as you got your fancy robes and big manor and rich parents." She turned away, to hide the look of shock crossing her face as she said these things, "Oh, but wait. Daddy's in A—Azkaban, is—isn't he?"

With those last words, she blushed and began to storm away only hear Draco's voice calling out, "Why don't you just go rot in hell Kayla?"

"Because there's only two spots reserved right now, Malfoy, and they happen to be for you and your father!" she thought to herself. Instead, she felt hot tears spilling down her flustered cheeks as she ran far away from him.

Kayla soon disappeared into the crowd of wizards and witches who were weaving their way through Diagon Alley. Draco watched wishfully as her ponytail swayed from side to side. With a mutter of anger to himself, Draco turned around and began to make his way across towards the Weasley shop when he saw another platinum blonde walk by him.

A platinum blonde who had shockingly familiar gray eyes, a lean, strong body, and a look of disgust and smugness worn upon the boys face. The only thing the boy was missing to make him look exactly like Draco was the lightening bolt scars and the tan skin. He was striding towards Knockturn Alley with an item hidden beneath his robes, and behind him Draco saw a flash of the three Gryffindor's following closely behind who seemed to disappear. Not knowing what to make of the situation, Draco followed behind the four, making sure to be unnoticeable.

He could hear the trio's voices from wherever they were, "That's him, isn't it? Turning left?"

"Big surprise," one of the three remarked.

The look-a-like glanced around and slipped away, "Quick, or we'll loose him!"

"Our feet'll be seen!" Hermione whispered.

"It doesn't matter. Just hurry!"

Draco soon tuned out the three as he slowed down so that he could watch from a safe distance as the blonde walked into Borgin and Burkes. A store, which admittedly, Draco had been in before when Lucius had still trusted him. From where Draco was standing he could not see what the blonde brought out or hear what he was saying, but the shopkeeper, Borgin, seemed to have a troubled expression on his face. They exchanged few words and the three Gryffindor's were standing somewhere whispering their own remarks and comments to each other.

By the time the blonde left the shop Borgin had a slightly frightened expression on his face and Draco almost wanted to follow after. But instead he stayed put and waited to see what the trio would do. To his surprise they seemed to reappear out of thin air as Hermione pointed at them to stay put.

She walked inside the shop with an air of nerves and worry surrounding her as she began pointing to random items. Burgin was watching her closely; obviously aware of her heritage, until finally she turned to him and said something that made him react violently. His face became contorted with anger as he shouted at her while pointing towards the door.

Hermione hurried out and ran back to her two friends as they exchanged quick words and left Knockturn Alley together. Draco watched them with fascination until finally he shook his head a few times and walked towards Borgin and Burkes.

Before entering, however, he made sure his trademark sneer was worn upon his face and that his hair was pushed back and away from his face. He threw the door open and marched towards the counter, "Borgin!"

The man spun around with a look of utter terror on his face; he sheepishly answered, "Y—yes Mister Malfoy?"

"Repeat to me everything I just said."

For a second he looked utterly confused until a look of suspicions crossed his expressions, "How do I know you're really Draco Malfoy?"

"Because I know who you employed long ago. I know who you let deal with your customers and who you're still in contact with. And if you don't want the Ministry to know about a man you hired named Tom Riddle, I suggest you repeat what I said so that I can...make sure you haven't missed anything," his wand was raised and the sneer was still plastered on his face as Draco watched Borgin cringe as though he had been struck across the face.

For the next thirty minutes Borgin informed Draco everything that his look-a-like had told him. By the time he left the store, Draco had a pretty good idea as to what was going on. But first, he had to find out if it was true – he only hoped that it would turn out to be a misunderstanding.

Draco rushed back to the Leaky Cauldron, and did not even bother to stop and explain to Tom what had happened that morning. Instead, he marched up to his room and flung the door open to find someone sitting on his bed.

"Hello Draco."

He remained perfectly still and made no sign of emotion on his face as he answered, "Hello Mother...Marcus." The three stared at each other until finally Draco walked over to the mirror and began to straighten his tie, "What is it I can do for the two of you?"

"Looking good!" the mirror remarked.

Marcus Flint stood up and walked over towards Draco, "This year is going to be different, Draco. The Dark Lord wants you for a plan, and you would be wise to partake in it."

For a moment, all Draco wanted to do was turn and run out the door; but he couldn't. That would ruin everything he had worked for, for all his life. So instead, he took a deep breath and turned around, "What do I have to do?"

"It's quite simple really," Marcus replied with a devious smirk on his face. "We need you to kill Albus Dumbledore."

Draco's heart stopped for a brief moment as his head snapped up with an expression finally on his face – shock. "Me?"

"Oh yes, the Dark Lord thinks your ready. And besides..." once more the smirk appeared. "If you don't fulfill this order, I was told to inform you that you and your mother would be killed."

His back straightened as he glanced in the mirror at his mother's tired eyes. She made no movement as this was said, but there was still a sight of sadness dwelling where a sparkle had once been. Making no movement he opened his mouth, "I know what you're doing."

Flint raised an eyebrow and sneered, "Would you, Malfoy? What am I doing?"

"I talked to Borgin, Flint," Draco spun around with his own sneer on his face. "Don't think I'm not aware as to what has happened Marcus. I know more then you will – I wonder if the Dark Lord would want you as his Death Eater if he knew your bloodline was so...tainted."

Marcus reached forward and grabbed Draco's tie, "Shut your mouth, Malfoy!"

He reached up and uncurled Marcus' fingers from his tie, "Tut, tut, Flint. The Dark Lord will not be pleased to know you can't control your temper," once more Draco straightened his tie while looking at his mother in the mirror. "Borgin told me all about it. He will send me the amulet that you left him when I inform him to. I know there is probably much more for me to do – I believe Borgin mentioned something about the Vanishing Cabinet? – And I will, don't fret little tainted one. Killing Albus Dumbledore will be a—a dream come true."

"You don't know the half of it, Malfoy," Marcus snarled into his ear.

Draco spun around and shoved him away, "And I don't want to, Flint. I'd much rather hear it from the boss, not His lackey."

"No one without the mark is allowed to talk to Him," he taunted.

"I think He might make an excuse, seeing as how I'm the son of one of his most trusted Death Eaters, soon to be His second once I finish this mission."

Marcus gave a bark of laughter, "You? His second best Death Eater? That's a laugh, Malfoy. You're not a kid anymore; this is more then just getting on the Quidditch Team. This is murder – and if you don't succeed, the Dark Lord's taking your life. Much as I want the Dark Lord to be happy, I wouldn't mind if you didn't succeed," he made his way towards the door and opened it up. "In fact, I hope you fail so that I can witness your pathetic, insignificant death. No one would care Malfoy – no one would care if you died."

With that he walked out the room and shut the door behind him, not saying goodbye to Narcissa or Draco. The two of them watched the door with emotionless faces, because as they both knew so well, Malfoy's never show emotion. They never care; they never cry...they never deigned low enough to show feelings.

Draco's mother stood and faced her only son as she stammered, "I—I...if anything – anything at all – goes wrong...Professor Snape will help." Draco stared at his mother with wide gray eyes as she continued stiffly, "I must be going."

And once more, Draco was alone in the room, left to dwell in the dark corners of his mind – a place where no one should go alone.


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