Disclaimer: As much as it pains me to admit it, I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, so anything you recognise is not mine. They were created by the fabulous J.K. Rowling.

Author's Note: Comments/Suggestions/Critiques are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!

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Draco ran until he could no longer breathe. Knocking against a tree, he slid down the trunk to sit down. He gasped, trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible. Sweat ran down his face and he fanned his limbs out to get cooled off. He was much deeper into the forest now and the auror, at least he assumed he was an auror, hadn't followed him. His breathing was shallow and he worked to even it out.

As he cooled off a bit, he straightened up and combed his fingers through his wet hair. It wasn't like him to cry but he was on the verge of it at this point. His journal, the only "person" he'd been able to be honest with, was the only thing he carried with him. For five years that was the only person he'd really been able to reveal his feelings and thoughts to. There was hardly any more room for him to write anything now. Using a muggle pen he'd picked up when getting food one night he wrote in the sides of the pages, always feeling a bit better and a bit less lonely when he was done. Biting his lip, he held back the tears and stood up. He couldn't stay here. The fact was he probably needed to leave France.

America? He asked himself. Nah, he'd been there once and couldn't stand the place. Perhaps he'd stay in France. They only knew he had been there, not where he was. He'd just have to make good progress before they found him. South of France, possibly Bordeaux. There would be no way he could get there in a day. It would take at least a week, if not more, but he could get food wherever he could and just continue walking.

As he started walking, he had nothing to do but think. His first thoughts were wishing he was back at the Manor in his own bed. As the day drove on he began to think about what would happen if they caught him. It would probably be better than this. Not having to search for food, having a decent place to sleep. Stopping at a large willow tree, he sat and leaned against it. It sounds glamorous compared to this. With that thought, he rolled up into a ball and fell asleep, not bothering to try and conceal himself.

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Dusting as much dirt from his trousers as he could, he stretched his hands towards the sky and looked up. The sun was still low in the sky, so it was quite early in the morning. As he began walking, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. His trainers were well worn out, but they were still useable although he should probably begin thinking about nicking another pair if he wanted to walk much further without injury.

It was well after noon before the forest began to spread out, giving him hope that he'd reached the end of it. If anything it was a good sign he hadn't been caught by now. If the aurors had immediately reported back, they would have come searching for him last night. As he walked on, he thought to his parents' conversation he'd overheard.

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His mother was attempting to cook fish over a fire when Draco woke. They'd been taking shifts for sleep in order to ensure no one would sneak up on them while they slept. It marked their 42nd day in the cavern they had found, and attitudes were more sour than usual. His Father refused to do anything that a house elf could do, even if it meant him starving to death, but his Mother would hear nothing of it. She cooked the food before she slept and Draco cooked every so often.

He'd awoken on his own and continued lying on his make-shift cot to get as much rest as he could before he was on watch for the night. His Mother began humming a song he soon recognised as sung by Celestina Warbeck. He smiled as the memories of Christmas at the Manor filled his head. The humming stopped and he could hear his Father begin whispering something. His name was spoken which piqued Draco's interest. Why would they be whispering about him?

He stopped breathing and his ears strained to hear what they were speaking about. After a moment the crackle of the fire silenced enough for him.

"…first thing in the morning, Lucius, but we should at least tell him that we're leaving," his Mother was saying. "You can't expect me to just leave him here for the aurors to find."

"As soon as we can, we'll Apparate to America," his Father replied. "Draco will be spared to an extent. He's not been in this as long as we have Narcissa. The Ministry can't have much to do him in with." It took everything Draco had not to get up and ask what they were talking about, but he had to maintain his sleeping appearance. "We can't have them finding us because he's done magic underage, Narcissa. I will not go through that again."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. He'd started the fire using magic one night and they'd had to run for days before they lost the aurors. It had been an honest mistake but his Father wasn't going to let him live it down. As it was his Father believed that they would find them if him and his Mother used their wands.

"…suppose your right," his Mother answered. "But how are we to know they won't torture him? I can't have that done to my son, especially for me."

"They might, but Draco is going to be of age in two years' time, and he needs to be prepared to fight for his family. I won't have you disagreeing with me Narcissa," Lucius hissed. "As soon as we Apparate, the Ministry will appear and take Draco. At least we'll know he will no longer be here."

His Mother said no more after that and the cracking fire was all that was left for Draco to hear.

Several hours after his parents had gone to sleep he slipped out of the cavern and began walking.

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A frown was now creasing Draco's face and he fought off the memories and focused on stopping for food. The forest had now led him to the edge of what was probably a small lake, but he couldn't see far. Still, he would be able to catch a fish and have it cooked in time for lunch. Sitting down next to the shore, he removed his trainers and set them and his journal next to a tree, preparing to concentrate on catching his meal.

. . . .

The days seemed to grow longer and longer as they went on. Draco only walked to have something to do, although now it seemed to be becoming more burdening as the weeks passed. His trousers no longer fit him properly and he constantly tugged on them to keep them up, his belt long past its helpful stage. If he had calculated correctly, he should be arriving in Bordeaux early this evening and picked up his step with the prospect of being able to eat a proper meal and have a proper wash. Every few days he'd been able to wash off in the rivers and lakes he passed, after he'd caught his food, but he'd not felt clean since they left almost seven weeks ago.

Knowing that he would reach the city within the next few hours gave him the strength it took to keep going. Bordeaux was one of the few cities in the world that wizards were known to avoid due to past discrepancies. No one really knew why, but for some reason more wizards had been caught and executed in Bordeaux than anywhere else in the world, including Salem. The blond needn't worry about that fact, though, considering he'd be unable to use magic.

That was one of the weirdest things about being on the run underage, Draco found. Although he was used to having everything he wanted, he'd grown up using magic and doing everything with magic. Now he was reduced to not being able to use magic at all, no better than any muggle. He did not dare even attempt the smallest charm for he would definitely be caught. His mind wandered to his journal entry from the night before:

30.8.95

I've still yet to determine why my parents would leave me without explanation. I heard their conversation but that really doesn't clarify anything at all. What really confuses me is I'm not even sure what they've done. I wasn't daft enough to think Father was telling the truth when he said he was Imperused last time the Dark Lord was in power, and now that he has returned, I knew Father had gone to him. Honestly, I never wanted anything to do with it. It all seems a bit ridiculous if you ask me. Nevertheless, I agreed with my fellow housemates and told my Father I would be joining up once I'd left school. It seemed easier that way.

Father wanted them to come to me after they left…wanted them to take me to the Ministry.

The Ministry…

Every so often, when I've been walking too long, I consider doing magic and letting them come collect me. Then I come to my senses. Would I go to Azkaban? Or do they even take under-age wizard? I've never known it to happen. Would they ask me about my parent's whereabouts? I think if I knew I would tell them if it got me out of going to Azkaban.

I'm such a coward.

His foot touched down on something solid and that jerked him out of his trance-like state. Looking around, he realised he'd reached the city. Draco felt the tenseness in his entire body ease with the relief of finally reaching his destination. The only problem now was where he should go. The journey had not been kind to him: his hair was matted to his head, his clothes were too large and dirty, and he hadn't had a proper wash since he left.

Making a quick decision, he began to walk straight into the middle of the city with hopes people wouldn't glance twice at him. That thought was a long-shot, though, as several stared at him with dirty looks on their faces as he walked past. His head was held high as he tried to keep his eyes straight ahead. After five minutes, his eyes fell upon a small inn and he turned in as he reached the entrance.

The air was stale and the foyer looked like it had not been cleaned in a week. The middle-aged man behind the desk was dozing off, his head dropping towards his chest. Walking over to him, he cleared his throat and said, "Monsieur?" The man's head jerked up and his hand flew to a knife partially concealed on the right side of the counter. After seeing the state of Draco his hand seemed to tense more around the handle.

Draco asked the man for a room, and was able to negotiate work for a place to stay. At that moment he was thankful his Father had taught him how to coerce people into doing things for him. After they had settled and Draco had his key, the man seemed to follow the blond with his gaze until he was out of sight. He did have to admit he probably looked strange having no luggage and looking like he did. Once he reached the room, he no longer cared. Locking the door as securely as possible behind him, he walked to the bathtub and turned the water on. Washing his clothes thoroughly he hung them up to dry and made his way into the main room. Exhausted, he fell straight on the bed and slept.

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Draco woke feeling almost revived. The bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one he'd had at the Manor, but after laying on the forest floor for weeks it felt like a bed of feathers. Taking a moment to stretch, the blond walked to the tub and turned the water on. Before stepping in, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Disgust crossed his face. His ribs and hip bones were protruding and his eyes were sunken in. His colour was pasty and he had scrapes and bruises all over from sleeping on the forest floor.

Mentally shrugging his shoulders, he realised there was nothing he could do about it now. Stepping into the bath he let out a loud groan. He'd never felt so good in his entire life. Never again would he take bathing for granted. As he scrubbed the dirt and grime off his body, he thought about where he'd go from here. He couldn't really walk about town, yet he couldn't just stay in the room forever either. As it was the innkeeper was only allowing him to stay should he do a bit of work when needed. Perhaps he should just keep walking and hope eventually to find somewhere to stay. He could get a job.

Who was he kidding? He wasn't qualified to do anything! He wasn't even sure how to do most things the muggle way. Hopefully he could think of something in the time he had left at the inn. After scrubbing for half an hour, it finally felt like he had gotten all of the dirt off his body. Stepping out of the bath, he dried quickly and put his too big, slightly damp clothes on.

Picking up his journal, he opened it to the last page. The margins on the last page were the last spaces available. Carefully fingering the pages he flipped through the entries. It had been given to him as a gift from his Uncle during his first year at Hogwarts. The green leather book had been his favourite gift to date. It's been written in almost daily since he's had it. The brilliant thing about it was that it had the ability to expand when Draco needed more space to write, yet it would only ever look as big as when he first received it. In fact, all if would take was a press of the blond's thumb at the binding. The reason he hadn't done it yet, though, was he wasn't sure if that would be considered magic enough for the Ministry to respond.

As he sat on the bed, he suddenly didn't care if the Ministry responded. He needed to write. Right now, it was the only thing he had. Holding the book firmly in his hand, he took his thumb and pushed it against the binding. After a few seconds, he opened the journal up to a fresh page, picked up his muggle pen, and began to write.

1.9.95

Today should be the start of my 5th year at Hogwarts. Instead, I've been on the run for 49 days. Forty-nine days! At first it seemed like an adventure, even though I knew we were in trouble. Want to know what's funny? I haven't even done anything! At this point, if I knew where my parents were I'd give them up, no problems. They've caused all this discomfort and frustration without even considering that I've done nothing. But now they've dragged me into their mess with the Dark Lord. A mess I've never wanted in to. Ever.

Perhaps Father's running from him, as well.

Crabbe and Goyle look to me to lead them, but they completely support the Dark Lord. Mainly because they're too stupid to have any thoughts of their own. They're completely brainwashed by their parents. But what am I supposed to do? My Father would disinherit me if I ever stated my opinion on the Dark Lord. I'm just expected to follow him without knowing anything about him. Except the fact that he's murdered many people, including Harry Potter's parents.

Which brings me to the Chosen One. He swears he saw Voldemort return during the Triwizard Tournament. For that, people think he's mad. I did. Before we went on the run. Sometimes I wish Harry Potter had accepted

Before he could finish the lock on the door clicked and Draco froze. Shit.

The blond's shoulders stiffened as the door creaked open. He didn't even try running – he was too tired. Perhaps in a way he knew they'd come for him when the journal was expanded. Stuffing his journal into his trouser pocket, he sat as still as he could. Draco's mind was reeling – it was at war with itself. A part of him wanted to run, but the other part of him just wanted this to all be over. He was jerked out of his thoughts when someone spoke.

"Well, well, well. Draco Malfoy. We've caught you at last." The voice was rough and taunting and Draco grimaced at the tone. He looked down at his hands as the footsteps came closer. His Father always told him trembling was a sign of weakness. But at this moment, Draco saw running as a weakness as well – a weakness his Father had succumb to so he didn't really care what his Father thought. He was trembling and he wasn't ashamed. This could be the end of his life.

There were three aurors but Draco only recognised two of them – Ethan Williamson and Gawain Robards. Those two raided the manor the night they ran.

Williamson spoke this time. "Where's your Father, boy?" Draco almost breathed a sigh of relief. Were they just looking for his Father? His body relaxed slightly, but his brain was working overtime. Should he tell them what he knew? Or stay silent? He wasn't sure what he wanted to do. They were his parents – even if they had planned on leaving him to be caught. He didn't really even know where they were – he assumed America, like they'd said when they thought he wasn't listening. But America was such a large place. Could he get away with just saying they were in America, though? The aurors were unlikely to belief him. Whose parents just run off and leave their child? Lucius may have been a death eater, but he would never be cruel to his own son. And for his Mother to go along with it? Something must have been wrong.

He opened his mouth to answer, but Robards spoke first. "We should take him in. Looks like he'll need a little…persuading to tell us where his Father is."

Draco opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. Assuming they took him to the Ministry, he'd at least have food. The auror he didn't recognise grabbed his arm and, without warning, turned on his feet. He had Apparated along-side his Father plenty of times, but he still loathed the sensation of being forced through a thin tube. Perhaps it was his lack of food, but his head began feeling quite cloudy and dull and his limbs suddenly felt extremely heavy.

The next thing he remembered was hands prying his jaw open, and a drop of thick liquid being placed on his tongue. His reflexes kicked in and his muscles tensed. After trying to move his arms he realised they'd bound them together. Bastards, he thought. While his eyes were adjusting to the brightness of the room he tried to think about what questions they would ask him. He knew they'd ask about his parents' whereabouts, of which he had no idea. It was possible they would ask him about dark artefacts in the manor…that was why they ran in the first place.

"We should get started," said Robards, his gruff voice jerking Draco out of his thoughts. The aurors thick body was leaned up against the small desk and the blond just knew that desk would fall apart if he put any more of his weight on it.

Robards continued. "What's your name?"

"Luc…Draco Malfoy," Draco stated. It seemed appropriate to attempt a different name so that they knew the Veritiserum was working.

The auror raised an eyebrow. "Where is Lucius Malfoy?"

Draco glanced at an auror standing in the corner and thought as long as the Veritiserum allowed him. "I have no idea. America I suppose." He hadn't needed to add that last bit in, but if it helped his case he would say most anything.

It was obvious that Draco's answer intrigued the auror – on the surface there was no reason why the Malfoys would split considering Draco was still technically a minor.

Robard crossed his thick arms and smirked. "And why ain't you with them?"

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he answered quickly. "They were planning on leaving me here, so I ran first." Even though that's now exactly what had happened, it got his point across. He just wanted to get this over with.

Apparently he answered all of their questions appropriately since the two aurors looked at each other and then left the room.

What seemed like hours later, the door opened revealing the last person he thought he'd see here: Professor Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore, what are you doing here?" Draco asked, unable to keep the shock from his voice.

"Dear boy, I've come to take you to Hogwarts where you belong," the Headmaster replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Draco suspected the Ministry was unaware he was here. Or at least unaware he would be leaving with Draco. With a wave of his wand, the binds were removed from Draco's hands.

The Headmaster began to walk out the door but turned and looked over his shoulder. "Unless, of course, you'd rather stay here?"

"No!" the blond replied, too quickly for his own liking. Standing, he took a deep breath and finished. "I…I'm just wondering what made you come to get me. My family's in with the Dark Lord. You don't want that in your school."

Professor Dumbledore walked back into the room and leaned against that tiny desk. "Draco," he began looking him straight in the eyes, "You have not yet made your decision and I will not dismiss you from Hogwarts simply because of mistakes your parents have made."

A sigh of relief escaped Draco's mouth and he made to stand up when the Headmaster stopped him.

"There is one thing you should know before we leave, however. Because word of your situation has spread about Hogwarts, we cannot allow you to return to Slytherin House," he said seriously.

Draco's heart was pounding – where would they put him? All by himself? Surely he'd still be allowed to communicate with his fellow housemates.

Dumbledore continued. "This is for your safety as well as to promote House unity. You will be assigned to Gryffindor Tower until further notice."

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" Draco yelled. He would NOT be placed with the Gryffindors. It was humiliating. His mates would torment him further than they would for his family running. "Hufflepuff would be a better choice! Every Gryffindor at Hogwarts wants to see me gone – how is that for my safety?"

"Mr Malfoy," Dumbledore said calmly, "I have many reasons for placing you in Gryffindor Tower, but we shall need to discuss them later, as I fear the Aurors may be returning soon. Please, follow me."

Grateful for the escape, he said nothing. But there was no way he would step foot in Gryffindor Tower, even if he had to argue with Professor Dumbledore all night.

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Draco was fuming. Not only had Dumbledore consistently ignored his request to return to his house, or any other house but Gryffindor for that matter, he refused to tell him why he was insisting on Gryffindor. The old codger kept repeating himself. "It is for your own safety – you will realise why soon enough." That answer was ridiculous. All it did was keep the Headmaster from having to explain. Quickening his pace, his feet were throbbing as he ran to keep up with Dumbledore.

"Professor, sir," Draco began slightly out of breath, "Would it be possible to get a change of clothes first?" There was no way he was stepping foot into the Lion's Den in these rags. Thankfully he'd had a chance to wash them, but they were quite worn from his journey.

His pace never slowing, Dumbledore chuckled. "It's all taken care of, my boy. Your things were collected from the Manor yesterday," he said as they rounded a corner. The headmaster pointed him into the abandoned classroom that held his trunk. Fighting the urge to act like a five year old at Christmas, he simply quickened his step and went to search through the his things.

"You shall have a few moments to freshen up and change and then I will direct you on," the Headmaster said, pointing him towards a small toilet next door. Draco took the time to wash his self as best he could in the small quarters. After changing clothes and tossing his nasty rags into the bin, he re-entered the corridor and nodded to the Headmaster. He wasn't ready to go to Gryffindor Tower, but he was ready to have a proper shower and sleep.

A series of twists, turns, and staircases led them to Gryffindor Tower. Draco was sure he'd never find his way back if he ever left. Gryffindor's portrait was of a rather large lady in a very large violet dress. She was holding a wine glass that appeared to have once been full with red wine.

"Pantera leo," Dumbledore said to the portrait. Smiling, the fat lady nodded her head and swung the door open. Draco's heart began pounding. The grey-haired man looked over his shoulder and confirmed, "I've already told them that you would be a guest in their house for a period of time."

That really didn't make the blond feel much better – that meant they had time to plan.

The reaction he thought he would receive at stepping into the Lion's Den never came. In fact, the Gryffindor's seemed quite less than impressed with his arrival. He couldn't decide whether to be delighted at the lack of attention or angry at the lack of attention. He was still a Malfoy, dammit, and Malfoy's deserved respect. The amount of gold and red in the Common Room was quite sickening, but there really wasn't much difference in the Gryffindor's Common Room and Slytherins Common Room. The dungeons were more dark and damp whereas the Tower was extremely bright and cheerful, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. Dumbledore began to move again, and Draco's eyes continued to scan the rather large room. As his eyes reached the staircase leading to what Draco suspected were the rooms, he saw Potter standing at the bottom staring at him. As they got nearer, he smirked and said, "What are you looking at, Scar head?"

Potter's eyes flashed with anger at the nickname, but then a smirk uncharacteristically drew onto his face. His face looked smug as he replied. "I'm looking at my new roommate."