This story now finally continues with the 5th chapter which introduces you to the main story arc set five years after the happenings of chapters one to four. You might skip the 'prequel' and start with the 5th chapter without tumbling upon any comprehensional difficulties.
Having said this, enjoy 'Waifs and Strays'.

A scream.
Silent and desperate.
When there are so many people to hear
Why does nobody listen?

His pale yet attractive features were indifferent as his grey eyes coldly looked down at the other students in front of him. In fact, some of them were about the same height es him, a seventeen year-old boy, but the gaze he gave them let them feel inferior and naked. Those seemingly emotionless eyes didn't waver, didn't lose their prey.
One of the young wizards finally worked up the courage to speak and in doing so eased the situation for his fellows a little who averted their gaze and started to concentrate on their leader again.
'What now, you punk?', said one asked cockily now and jerked his chin at the blonde in front of him.
'Dare to say somethin', for example, like apologising for bumping into me?'

At first, the blonde didn't react, except that he lifted one eye-brow unimpressed. Provocating. One of the gang members clenched his fists, however, before he could do anything rash, the pale wizard raised his voice. A voice as cold and piercing as his eyes but with an unmistakable arrogant tone.
'Apologise yourself if you need an apology. This street's not made for filthy retards like you. So sod off.'
'Don't make me laugh, so you wanna say the street's made only for conceited pure-bloods like yourself?', the boy who had thwarted the blonde's way spit in disgust.
A sudden flare of an undefined feeling flickered over Draco Malfoy's face, too fast vanished than to be noticed by any observer. Nevertheless, his demeanour grew slightly more aggressive, his voice tense, as if he needed all his focus not to lose his temper and instead stay unperturbed.
Numerous spells whirred in his head, easy, effective, tempting. Dangerous.
'You better get out of my way and forget your stupid idea of trying to deal with a Malfoy. Your company is undesired', he said coolly, directing the words to all three.
And yet, he had to stand above such impudence like a Malfoy was supposed to.

'Else what?', came the gang leader's immediate question challengingly but his friends had already started murmuring and their susurrus sounded nervous.
'Did he say 'Malfoy'?'
'That's actually one of the most famous pure-blood families – and one of the most influential, too.'
'I bet he could get us expelled if he grassed on us.'
'What if he's just lying? Everyone knows the Malfoys.'
'Yeah, but did you notice? He looks exactly like that, what's his name, Lucius Malfoy!'
'Urg. An aquaintance of my mum told us he's like a walking refridgerator.'
'That guy could probably really get us in trouble if he tells the truth.'

Angry, because none of his fellows showed any sign of standing up for him against that arrogant Malfoy or whatever, the leader first shouted at them for being such chickens and then turned back at the cause of his enragement.
Obviously, this cause had gotten bored listening to them for the tip of a precious wand was now pointing right into the boy's face. Cold grey eyes pierced him and this time there was no sassy saying which saved the rioter.
'I hate to repeat myself and I definetely won't do it a third time: Out of my way.'
It didn't help that the others also held their wands since the blonde had been faster and could hex their friend before they would be able to prevent the damage.

Slowly raising his hands beside his head in defense, the boy who'd cursed his companions seconds ago was now backing down towards the middle of his little group.
Draco took a step forward and walked past them. Inwardly, he formulated a spell and he was right in doing so because as soon as he'd turned his back to the other boys, one of them shot some reddish flashing hex at him and he didn't even need to look behind to know that his invisible shield had easily disposed it.
Silent, he walked on, entering some brisker streets, passing by windows full of magical stuff and alluring objects. Most of them – at least of the qualitative branded articles – could be found at his home.

A hand.
Reaching for something neither gold nor power can buy you.
When there are so many purchasable things making people happy
Why can't you get your own happiness just as easily?

A sting in his chest. Not allowing himself even the tiniest outward reaction, Draco passed by a young couple and their laughing child. The little girl – she couldn't be older than five or six years – giggled happily as her father took her into his arms and held her hight above his head. The woman next to him had laid her hand onto his back and smiled.
Whilst the seventeen year-old student of Hogwarts made his way through the wizards and witches who all seemed to have chosen exactly this day to enjoy the fine weather, go shopping and sit in front of cafés with big bowls of ice, neither the hilarious atmosphere around him nor the warm sun on his cheeks nor the smells of fresh summer flowers and spices were able to brighten up his mood. Much less let him relax. The family that had catched his eye, and it wasn't even important who exactly they were, had reminded him of something unpleasant.
A feeling of being lost, being completely omitted spread irresistably in him and the sight of something he would never get hurt.
It hurt much.
And somehow he had to deal with these strange, abhorred feelings which always fast turned into disappointment and finally into rage.

Trying hard not to pay any attention to the people around him, Draco eventually arrived at his destination: A shop which selled rare potions and – for a certain extra charge – also special and not so legal poisons underhand. Goes without saying, the entry lay around a corner partly hidden in the shadows of an old, high building, near to Nocturne Alley.
As he entered, a raven croaked welcomingly. At least, Draco found it welcomingly and when he met the animals stare and storm grey eyes met with glittering black ones, the bird fluttered down from his place on a barred locker and landed almost carefully on the boy's outstreched arm. He ran his free hand over the silky black feathers and could feel the raven's radiating warmth.

'What a nice surprise to see young Master Malfoy', sounded a male voice suddenly and Draco lifted his gaze again to look at the shop's owner, a white-haired wizard who was about ninety years old and had worked in this well-appointed treasure room for as long as he could remember. The man smoothed his trimmed beard out and continued, smiling mellifluously:
'And it is quite obvious that Shruiken here has taken a shine to you, as well, Master Malfoy. Isn't that a nice thing? Usually, he behaves rather unpolitely and tries to pick my customers. If it wasn't you, I'd say you like ravens. But your father thinks of them as flying rats and dirty offscourings, doesn't he. How unfortunate, how -'

The blonde interrupted him, in the same moment shaking the raven off that flapped its wings disapppointedly and returned to its high look-out on the locker.
'I do hope my father's order has arrived in time, Calligan.'
Calligan kneaded his wrinkled hands, still smiling, and – with a bow maybe a little too deep for a young student – turned to disappear into one of the many back rooms. After some low spells and clicking noises he returned to the counter and handed over an inconspicious packet which Draco immediately let vanish with a small movement of his wand. One never knew...

'Of course, it's the best I could get, just like always. Do not hesitate to call me again if there's the need for anything', said the old wizard.
'By the way', he added when Draco was about to leave the crammed shop. 'Why don't you take Shruken here with you? He doesn't even like me, his owner, but got along with you at once. I've never been able to read the future but that must be some kind of sign, don't you think? Please keep him, he'll be very useful to you, I give you my word.'
The pale boy halted impalpably, pondering only for a second, before he answered coldly:
'I see no reason in keeping a common raven. Spare me your sentimentality.'
With these words, he turned on his heels and stepped out of the shop which by now had become far too suffocating than to be endured any longer.

A barrier.
Crackling cold and sharp-edged.
When, at last, you've found a way to protect yourself from unnecessary pain
Why does the subsequent loneliness hurt you in the same breath?

It was late afternoon when Draco arrived at home. Though it probably would be hard for everyone else, everyone common, to call the uninviting huge, old mansion 'home'. But Draco had lived here for as long as he could remember. He didn't know 'home' differently, apart from maybe the dorms in Hogwarts.
And since they had summer holidays the students were to return to their families for six weeks.
The stately home partly built in renaissance style casted a shadow over him as he approached the grand entrance door. Behind him he could hear the family's private chauffeur departing, the noble coach which was drawn by two magical horses, a special breeding that could also walk in the air on a level of about fifteen metres if necessary. That made the way home over all the fields and rural roads where nobody really cared how many potholes there were much more bearable and let the traveller arrive without serious spinal and back disorders.
Looking out from the coache's windows outward bound, Draco hadn't seen anybody for miles and that was not astonishing since no-one else lived on the Malfoy estate. No employees or the like and hence nor quarters for them either; they had house-elves doing the houskeeping most effectively.
And even now, as he reached his hand for the door handle, there was no sign of another creature nearby. Stepping over the threshold, Draco closed the door again and took a deep breath.
With a 'POP' one of the numerous house-elves appeared left to him and bowed until its bat-like ears touched the cold marble ground of the entrance hall.

'Hopefully, young Master had a nice journey and has arrived sound and safe.'
The magical creature, only reaching up to Draco's knees and clad in some rag of undefinable colour, straightend up and looked at its master expectantly with big ball eyes.
The blond boy stroke a pale hand through his smooth hair, his eyes wandering through the hall, over the broad spiral stairs and the closed doors leading to other parts of the mansion and back to the patient house-elf who hadn't moved an inch.
'The bags are at the gates, get them into my room', he finally said and didn't care that his voice sounded exhausted. Suddenly, he felt very tired although the sun hadn't set yet and they hadn't had real lessons either today, for even the teachers had already adjusted themselves to holidays.
With another bow and the typical 'POP' the small creature disappeared into thin air, without question following its master's new order.

As Draco climbed the stairs, one hand on the handrail's dark mahogany wood, a strange feeling crept over him. On the spur of a moment, he lifted his gaze – and saw his father standing right at the stairhead. The same grey eyes he possessed were looking down on him now and the same silver blond hair, only longer, shimmered in the slowly fading daylight and framed a pallid pointed face.
'Draco.'
A voice, cold and reserved, was to be heard as Lucius Malfoy spoke. It was a plain matter-of-fact statement but this was all the youngster would get for a welcome.
'Father', he answered in the same voice and tilted his head slightly down. Respect was one of the fundamental conditions of living along the patriarch, he'd learned that lesson early enough.
Draco didn't move until his father had walked down to him and even then he stood stock-still, not lifting his gaze from the steps.
'Your teacher comes at eight o'clock. Be presentable by then.'
'Yes, father.'
'You may go to your room now, Draco. I'll be in my study and don't want to be disturbed.'
'Yes, father.'

For a split-second, the thin lips of Lucius adumbrated a content simper, then he continued his way down the staircase and vanished with the flutter of his expensive gown.
Left back stood the Malfoy heir and it needed a few minutes before he pulled himself together and finally reached the first floor. He felt as if hours had passed since he'd arrived.
With a quiet moan he trew himself onto his bed as soon as he'd entered his own room. Or better, rooms, for there was a private bath as well plus a balcony and the size of his bed room alone would have outmatched a commener's living room.

A moan.
Tired and outworn.
When your life seems to be that easy-going and untroubled
Why does it take away your air to breathe?

Lying outstreched on the soft blankets, out of the corner of his eye the young wizard noticed a motion to his right. In the next moment he felt gentle footsteps at the end of his bed and then on his back.
A low chuntering and Draco smiled slightly when he turned onto his back to see a creature similiar to a cat but with ears much too big for one and a strange lion-like tail snuggling against him. The Kneazle's feline eyes locked with the boy's and as Draco put forth his hand and caressed the graceful hunter, it started to purr with pleasure.
'Yeah, missed you, too', he mumbled absent-mindedly, stroking through the dark dappled fur; it was so silky and the Kneazle itself so warm, so alive...

Why does it suffocates you?