SquidgeWorld Archive

Draco sat up in bed, panting as if he had just run a marathon. Perhaps, in a way, he had. His mind floated back to the remnants of the dream he'd just had. He'd been running after a muggle cab driven by a Jimmie Evans. He'd spent what seemed like hours discussing his missing lover with the cabbie. The conversation had been stimulating, forcing Draco to think about the entire situation from outside his own perspective.

Jimmie had been an attractive if shy looking man. His short messy hair had been a vibrant red. The eyes were a soft blue that pierced into the soul.

Draco couldn't find a rational explanation for the fact that the cabbie knew the one line of the horribly insufficient note that touched Draco's soul. The only thing that Draco could think was that his Harry, missing for five years, had been driving a muggle cab. Of course, Harry didn't look like Harry but it had to have been him, all the same.

The scene flashed across Draco's mind once more.

"I know things. From driving this cab, living my life, coping with daily stress, I know what other people are like. Love him when he least deserves it because that is when he really needs it." With a quick tip of his head, Jimmie put the cab in gear and started to pull slowly away from the curb, leaving Draco behind. In his mirror, he could see Draco staring with a shocked expression on his face.

"Harry?" Draco ran towards the cab. "Harry, don't leave me like this. Goddamn you, don't leave!" Draco continued to chase the cab as it pulled further and further away. The driver looked back and watched him sprint. Finally, Draco couldn't run any further and watched Harry drive out of his life. This time, he didn't steal away like a thief in the night. Instead, he drove away in broad daylight.

With a rough sigh, Draco swung his legs to the side of the bed. To keep himself from either crying and/or throwing up, Draco drove his knuckles into his eyes. The pain forced away the remnants of sleep from his brain.

The bed itself was hard and uncomfortable. The requested four pillows had resulted in two pillows. The firm but not hard mattress request had resulted in a brick disguising itself as a mattress. The room service had yet to get his order right. What was so hard to understand about slightly soft hard-cooked eggs with a dash of pepper, two links of sausage served at the correct temperature and two slices of toast with exactly one teaspoon of butter on each?

All in all, Draco was tired, cranky and depressed. This was the last time he was opening himself up to this level of disappointment. Harry was gone and Draco needed to face that fact. He couldn't continue haring off every time one of the Weasleys or the Gryffindor crew found a possible clue. His heart broke a little more each and every time. It was time to take what little heart he had left and protect it.

Draco made his way into the bathroom. He grimaced when he caught his reflection in the mirror. His prideful demeanor had shrunk to a slightly hunched posture. He was skinny to the point of almost-emaciation. The bags under his eyes were a deep purple, making his pale skin almost translucent. The bags themselves weren't a shock to Draco. After all, it had been five years since he'd slept properly.

A grimace passed his lips as Draco stripped and stepped into the shower. As he showered, he reflected on his life. He'd been to more places in the past five years than he'd ever wanted to go. It wasn't that he didn't like travel; he would just prefer that the travel was for something more rewarding than not discovering his missing lover. Pictures of each place flitted through his mind as he soaped and rinsed. Paris, Rio de Janeiro, New York, Barcelona, Moscow, Athens, Panama City, Jakarta and Cape Town, the list of towns and cities seemed endless. Draco was willing to swear to the fact that there wasn't a single place in Britain that he hadn't traveled to while looking for one Mr. Harry James Potter.

Today was the last day he was wasting looking for Harry. His return trip, booked a week ago, commenced tomorrow. A frustrated huff of air passed across his lips. The pain was almost unbearable as Draco faced the fact that he was giving up. Harry wasn't coming back.

When the water started to run cold, yet another thing to complain to the management about, Draco stepped out and toweled off. As he passed the mirror, Draco refused to look at himself again. He simply couldn't face the protruding ribs and sallow skin.

The wizarding section of Madrid was extremely busy as Draco searched for the store where Harry was supposedly working. Boticario Magia International was an apothecary that specialized in hard to find international potions ingredients. It was inconceivable that Harry, always hating anything to do with potions, would be working at a potions supply shop. However, the tip was supposedly reliable.

'Reliable, my ass.' Draco snorted to himself as he wandered through the store. None of the employees looked even remotely like Harry. After a quick conversation with the owner of the business, Draco found out that no one matching Harry's description had ever worked at the store. 'Last time I ever listen to a weasel, even if she changes her last name.'

Next door to the apothecary was a small eatery. With quite a bit of trepidation, Draco ordered the paella. As he was sitting down, a shaggy brown haired man caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Without a second thought, Draco dropped his lunch and ran after the man.

Draco followed the man until he stopped outside the local Quidditch shop to gaze in the window. The reflection of the man was very similar to Harry. Stealthily, Draco watched as the man shifted from side to side, scratched at his forehead and then walked inside.

The man looked like Harry but didn't walk like him. Draco would recognize Harry's walk anywhere. He had a purposeful stride, as if he didn't think there was any other reason to walk around except to finally get somewhere. Instead, this Harry look-alike had a bit more of a slide to his step.

Draco followed the man into the Quidditch store. The brooms around him didn't entice Draco from following his prey. The pseudo-Harry continued through the store to look at the Nimbus 5000.

Without hesitation, Draco marched up to the man. A rough hand pushed the hair away from the fake Harry's forehead. There was no lightening bolt shaped scar.

"¿Perdone, lo que le hace piensa que usted hace? ¿Quién es usted?" The man sputtered angrily.

"Yes, well, I didn't think it was you anyway." Draco turned on his heel and left the man to mutter behind him. His shoulders drooping, Draco went back to the hotel to pack.

'Why did I think Harry would be in the wizard section of this place anyway? Harry left the wizards.' Draco slumped onto the edge of the bed. A pillow clutched into his stomach, Draco fought back the depression that was quickly setting in. 'Harry left me. He's not coming back. He left me.'

As he rocked back and forth, frantically crushing the pillow closer and closer to his chest, the phone started to ring.

"Malfoy." The self-assured tone had disappeared and in its place was a clipped tone.

"Draco? This is Ginny. Are you still coming home tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Was it him?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow. I need to pack, Gin."

"I'll let you go then. Just a reminder that I'm picking you up tomorrow." Draco nodded and then realized that Ginny couldn't possibly see his nod.

"I'll see you then." The pair said their goodbyes. Draco rolled back onto the bed, pillow still gripped to his stomach.

Draco didn't know when he fell asleep until he woke up to the insistent buzzing of his wake-up call. He quickly threw all of his belongings into his suitcase and shrunk it. Check-out was a slow affair as he listed all of his complaints with the service. The manager apologized profusely and guaranteed a happier stay the next time. Draco graced the man with a snort in response.

He reached the long distance apparating pad previous to his timeslot. As he waited, the woman next to him eyed his robes. She coughed without covering her hand and Draco huffed. The woman continued to look at his robes with an almost calculating gaze. Draco decided to move when the woman reached towards his sleeve.

The apparation went quickly and soon, Draco was back in London. A quick sweeping gaze and Draco strode over to where Ginny sat typing on a laptop. She looked up when he stood in front of her.

"You don't look so good, ferret." Ginny looked worried when not even a shadow of a smile passed Draco's lips.

"Let's head out. We'll need to take a cab. Neville has the car." Draco nodded in response.

The pair made their way through the apparation terminal and then through the muggle airline terminal to the cab loading area.

"Was it him?" The demand came as they were beckoned to the next cab.

"Ginny, give me some time to decompress. You're worse than a..." Draco broke off as he sat down.

"Thirty-four Highland, please." Draco snapped out to the driver. The man was staring in the rearview in shock.

"I know cabbies are normally not native English speakers, but surely you understand a simple direction like Thirty-four Highland." Draco used his most arrogant tone to try to spur the man into action.

"Sorry, sir, I was a bit distracted." The pale blond man rolled his eyes.

"I would hope that you are not too distracted to actually drive this cab." Draco turned back to Ginny then glanced in astonishment back at the man's name plate. The dream flashed through Draco's mind as he remembered the name of the cabbie. Jimmie Evans, this was Jimmie Evans.

"Spill it, Malfoy, was it him?" The line was a bit surreal as Draco realized the entire situation was progressing just as his dream had progressed.

"No." Ginny slumped. Her confident demeanor changed with that one word. Draco's voice sounded drained, its cocky tone gone.

"When are we ever going to find him? How hard can it possibly be to find one stupid, missing, arrogant prat of a man?" Draco could hear the tears in her voice.

"I doubt we'll ever find him. He doesn't want to be found, Ginny. He's not coming back and we need to face that. This was the last one. I'm done haring off on some random tip. I'm tired of getting hopes up only to find that the information is wrong. It hurts."

"Draco, we can't give up hope. We'll find him." Ginny put her arm around Draco's shoulders.

"I'm not kidding, Ginny. I'm not going off on another of these wild goose chases. The entire trip was a waste of time. I had the worst accommodations! The hotel dared to give me an inferior wine at dinner! There were only two pillows when I specifically ordered four, the sheets were scratchy! Then, while I was in the, err, transportation center, there was a woman that kept sniffling the entire time. I swear she wanted to use my sleeve as a tissue."

"There, there, Draco. Everything will be fine; Mummy Ginny will make it all better." Draco shook his head.

"Ginny, if you weren't pregnant, I'd have to hex you. Merlin's balls, if you weren't pregnant, I wouldn't be stuck in this sleazy muggle cab. Next time, I won't care that you could get splinched away from the baby. I'm going to apparatus us and that's that."

Ginny only rolled her eyes at Draco.

"I know you're only whining because you're frustrated. You can't give up hope, Draco. Will you be by for dinner tonight?" Draco nodded.

"Yeah, I wouldn't dream of missing it. After all, it's only weekly that I get the honor of watching Weasley and Granger fawning over their disgusting array of children."

The cab pulled up to the side of the road as they reached Ginny's home. Draco handed the money through the separating window and made sure that his hand brushed the cabbie's hand. The tingle that he had only ever felt from Harry flitted across his skin. Draco was sure, more than ever, that his dream was correct and this Jimmie Evans really was Harry.

As Ginny exited the cab, Draco thought to himself. He had traveled around the world and Harry had been in his backyard the entire time. Jimmie Evans? How utterly uncreative and Harry-like was that choice. A nickname from his middle name and his mother's maiden name combined to form Harry's new moniker. Draco was slightly ashamed that he didn't think to look for that alias.

"Sir? Where to?" The cab started to pull back out into traffic as Draco shook himself out of his contemplations.

"Hello, Harry."

end