Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Published: November 18, 2020

Updated: September 30, 2021

Draco woke up the next day, donned his blindfold and finished his sandwich. He packed his bag, leaving his blankets and took a swig of the hair potion to keep his hair be brown. His blonde was too recognizable, too. He couldn't hide all day again and crawled out the hole. He made his way slowly through Knockturn and went to a different spot in Diagon. He sat on the ground and clinked his cup. The constable showed up at noon. He dropped two sickles in his cup and gently handed him a sandwich.

Draco tried to keep calm, but his fear of being found out wasn't likely to leave him soon. "Thank you, sir. You don't have to...."

"It's not a problem. I just had Kreacher make another sandwich in my lunch," the Auror said amicably.

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Draco didn't ask about it. Quiet was easier..

"Look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable yesterday. I swear I was just saying hello. Well, I'll drop by tomorrow! Bye!" he said, and Draco heard his footsteps walk away.

Draco felt the sandwich and stowed it away. What a strange man, he thought. He also hid the sickles in his pocket, not that it stopped anyone from summoning them. He didn't leave when the constable left this time, nor the next day when his local constable dropped off some coins and a sandwich.

"It's beef brisket, today. Thought you'd want some variation. Anything you don't like... or want?"

"Umm... no... it's fine..." Draco mumbled, taken aback by his generosity.

"Alright, see-um-talk to you later," the Auror said, before leaving.

Draco held the sandwich for a long time and had to wipe some tears away. He was starting to like the friendly constable, but he was still afraid of the Auror finding out that he was a former Death Eater. He ate his sandwich and even stopped at a gruel shop on the way home for another meal. He was starting to feel better than he had in a long while. He hadn't starved, but he never really ate a full meal. He even brought back some biscuits for his muggle holemates, who grudgingly accepted it. They had given him food many times.

His constable brought him a corned beef sandwich the next day, and he mumbled a thanks, as he hid it in his tattered robes. He kept his head lowered, not to draw out the conversation.

"It's really not a problem," the Auror said and sat next to him. "It's just me and the house elf... so I got plenty of food. Anyone giving you a hassle?"

"Not recently," he muttered. "Sometimes, the shopkeepers don't like me loitering, but I'll move if they request it."

"They don't have the right to demand that."

Draco resisted the urge to snort. "They get angry and yell sometimes. I don't like that."

"I'm sorry about that. Have any of them hurt you?"

"I can't exactly identify them, can I?" Draco muttered, and his voice broke a little. It wasn't that he was blind that hurt him. It was the helplessness.

"I'm sorry. Can I ask what hap-"

"No," he interrupted. What would he say? That he was cursed, couldn't reverse it, because he's not allowed magic, and he can't go to the hospital, because he's a former Death Eater. That'd go over well. The Auror wouldn't help a piece of scum like him. He tried to keep from leaning away from him, but couldn't stop the trembles.

"Okay, sorry if I overstepped."

"S'okay," Draco mumbled, lowering his head. This was the most interaction he had ever had outside of his... home.

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