Chapter Text
Draco sat on the dirt under an acacia tree, somewhere in the middle of the African savannah. Mount Kilimanjaro loomed in the distance, it's icy top concealed by clouds. It looked small from here, so far away... But he was no fool. It was the tallest mountain on the continent, and he was nothing but a speck beneath it.
Thousands of other people had sat beneath the same mountain and shared the same thought, he was sure.
I am nothing, compared to that goliath piece of Earth.
And yet, my thoughts still revolve around me. I can't think of anything other than what I did... What people will think of me.
"Of course I can't," he mumbled. "I have a right to be self centered! It's for my own good. If I'm not looking out for myself... Who knows what will happen?"
"What are you talking about?" The small shepherd boy asked. He was ten years old, he had told him, and he'd learned English from the travelers that came through, along with a few other languages. The elders thought he was smart, so they'd probably send him off to school in Nairobi when he was eleven.
That's why he talked to travelers, he'd explained. Because travelers paid for trinkets, and the trinkets would pay for his education. And, it'd make it look smart.
"I keep forgetting how clever you are," Draco muttered. "Most children your age I've met can't hold a conversation." He was annoyed by this persistent child. He supposed it was only fair he wanted to converse; after all, it must be awful boring, sitting out in the sun with goats all day.
"You have never tried?" The boy suggested (rhetorically, he assumed), and Draco supposed he was right.
"What do you even do all day?" Draco asked him, leaning against the tree. His hiking trousers were filthy and dusty; he had worn them for three days in a row and hadn't had an opportunity to wash them, and scourgify spells only worked so many times. His shirt was practically soaked in sweat, and his hair... He didn't even want to think about his hair, which he had usually managed so well....
And here was this little boy, who had never known anything but what he had experienced. He wore tattered clothes stained by the dust, cheap assembly-line muggle clothes brought in from the city to the market. Sometimes, he'd explained, tourists would give him and his family old clothes.
The adults didn't usually wear them, he explained. They wore brightly colored, patterned fabrics that the travelers loved so much. And the men wore red fabric--they were the famed Masai warriors, tall and strong and good at jumping.
The boy laughed. "I sit with my goats. I take them out at morning, and home at evening. Since I was seven," he explained in his thick accent. "I stay at home and talk to mzungu like you. You are the first to come here."
"Well, I don't do spectacularly around others, anyway." Draco muttered.
"Spectacularly?"
"I don't do well with other people." He corrected himself. "And your goats don't bite like people do," he elaborated.
The boy broke out in a spectacular fit of laughter. "What kind of people do you see?" He bent over, clutching his chest.
"It's more me, actually." Draco sighed, trying to ignore this boy's animated character.
"You?" The boy asked, pausing to stare at him. "You bite people?" He was aghast.
"No," Draco snapped. "But people think I do. I did some very bad things."
"Like what? You are not bad." The boy had taken a few steps away to pet one of the goats.
"I listened to my father." Draco frowned, realizing that might come out wrong. "My father was a very bad man," he added. "He wanted me to kill people."
The boy frowned and stroked his goat. "And do you still?"
"No!" Draco cried. "I could never kill again. Even if I had to, I wouldn't."
"And you are still afraid of other people?"
"I never said that." Draco muttered, but it was true.
"Your eyes did." The boy said mystically. "That's why I'm so good at speaking. I can see people's eyes."
Draco frowned, wondering if the boy was magically talented, like a Legilimens, or perhaps a natural in Word magic, and that the elders he spoke of were actually sending him to a magical school.
"So, I am afraid of people. Isn't that justified? They'd all hate me. Even if they said I was innocent."
"My name is Innocent," the boy remarked quietly, looking at him with big eyes. Draco wished he knew what those eyes were saying, because the boy was seeming to be acting awfully coy.
"Anyway," Draco sighed. "I avoid them so they don't all avenge me. People like you are fine; you don't know me."
Innocent chuckled. "My father taught me how to milk the goats," he said. "But, sometimes, we cut them for their blood. They are not supposed to die, but the first time, I did it wrong. The animal died," he explained. "But, I did not run away to another herd, where the animals didn't know I had killed before. I stayed, and the animals forgot or forgave me. And I learned how to not kill the next time I cut."
Draco scowled. "You're a very morbid child," he snapped. "And that was a morbid analogy. Are you suggesting I just drain as much as I can without killing? Because, I assure you, I can do that easily enough!"
"You pretend not to listen." The boy replied cooly.
"Fine," Draco groaned. "So, it's silly for me to run. But unlike goats, people hold grudges."
"Goats are more skittish." Innocent retorted.
"What kind of a child are you?" Draco demanded.
The boy shrugged. "Do you believe in magic?" He asked absently.
"If you are implying that you are magical, I believe you." Draco snapped. He had never spent much time around muggles, anyway. He had several times slipped up and forgotten that muggles weren't used to magic. He almost hexed someone for pulling his leg they refused to believe that he could just cast auguamenti and give them some water... He was just trying to be nice!
The boy waved a hand over Draco, and he was clean. "Hey!" Draco explained. "Even I couldn't clean that with my magic. And I've a proper wand and everything!" He pouted.
The boy smirked. "I knew you were magic, too!" He cheered. "No one else in the village is," he added.
"Is that why you're so good at talking, then? It's magic?" Draco demanded, wanting to know if it was a natural gift or something he could acquire.
"Maybe," the boy murmured. "It's how I am."
"Damn," Draco cursed. "I could have used that. I wish I could speak to the locals," he added wryly. "They might be less obscure than you."
The boy laughed again, but his face stilled. "You wouldn't stay if you could, though. You won't stay anywhere when people know you. Your eyes say so." He looked sad.
"Well, no. I want to keep traveling."
"I thought you could stay. Until I go to the magic school," he added. "We could talk. No one would know what you've done, as long as you don't hurt anyone."
"You are terribly lonely, aren't you?" Draco asked him, almost feeling pity.
"Yes. Could you show me your magic?" Innocent asked.
Draco frowned. He was only good at potions and astronomy... Though he supposed he knew a few hexes he could cast at the goats... Or the boy... No, that would be bad. He would transfigure something.
He cast a spell at a rock, transforming it into a blue and green bird, which hopped onto the boy's shoulder.
"You gave it life." Innocent gasped, as the bird nipped at his ear.
"You might too, one day," Draco assured him. "Just keep him as something to remember me by."
"You have another kind of magic, too," the boy whispered, petting at the bird.
"And what is that?" Draco asked, wondering what mystic thing the boy would say next.
"Word magic. Like mine. Your bird speaks to me," he whispered in awe.
"I don't catch your meaning," Draco muttered dryly. Innocent just stared at him with his big, brown eyes and smiled like a bloody fool.
"You don't see the words, like I do." He whispered. "But you give the words. People will hear your words one day, and they will see you. I promise."
"What are you, a Seer?" Draco asked, wondering about the boy's strange wisdom.
"No. I just see it in your eyes."
Draco groaned. "You've taught me nothing. You've just jabbered at me. That bird will be the same way, I promise." He added darkly. The boy just had an overactive imagination.
"You'll change your mind." The boy whispered. "You'll see."
Draco didn't know what in Merlin's name he was talking about, but the boy was getting to know him too well. So, he apparated away. He needed a Portkey out of Kenya.
He felt too small here.