A/N: Hmm.what do I say to you all? Let's see.this is my first REAL fic, so
I hope it's good, but I'M writing it, so.yeah, you get it. I hope you all
like it, but be honest in your reviews, and go ahead and FLAME ME! HA HA
HA! Okay, anyway. And to quote myself and my dear friend Sarah: Bloody
hell! Okay. Right, on with the fic. This A/N is kinda long.oh well! I dun
care! Ooh, and I wanna dedicate it to someone. I shall dedicate this
beautiful (yeah, right.) to Sarah, who I am talking to at the moment and
wants to read it! Okay, I'll shut up and let you read it now. Ooh, one more
thing, this is in da sixth year! Toodles, and R&R!
Disclaimer: I dun own anything. The brilliant JKR does. If you sue me, the most expensive thing I own is my computer. If you take it away, someday, far away from today, your bloody, broken, lifeless body will be found in a Taiwanese dumpster. Now that that's done, please read and ignore my rambling!
Draco shivered in the night air. It wasn't cold out; it was the night of August 24, but he was nervous. He was about to become a Death Eater, but he didn't want to. He didn't have a choice.
Draco stood up straight and looked at Severus Snape, spy for Dumbledore. Snape knew Draco didn't want to become a Death Eater, but could do nothing.
"As you all know," a high, cold, painfully familiar voice said, "Young Draco Malfoy is to become one of us today. Yet, before we can give him the Dark Mark, we have a sort of.test, for Draco to prove his loyalty to us."
Draco's eyes widened as a little girl of about nine was thrown into the middle of the circle. "Kill the muggle, Draco," Voldemort said, almost lazily.
Draco fingered the wand in his belt, and made his decision. He stared defiantly into the eerily red eyes of the Dark Lord. "No."
Lucius Malfoy, his father, was shocked. "Kill her now, Draco!" he shouted.
Without taking his eyes off of Voldemort, Draco repeated in a low voice, "No."
Lucius, enraged, reached for his own wand, but Draco wasn't stupid. He turned around and ran as fast as he could away from the Death Eaters.
There was a shout, a blast of green night, and a soft thump. 'They killed her,' Draco thought savagely. There weren't any footsteps behind him, but Draco didn't stop running. His black robes got caught on a branch, but he didn't care. They ripped right off, and Draco kept on running in his red tank top and khaki shorts through the trees.
After ten minutes, Draco finally slowed to a walk. The forest was strangely silent. It soon grew dark; Draco figured it was past midnight, but he kept on walking.
After eight hours of walking without stopping, Draco was exhausted. He ran his fingers distractedly through his dirty blonde hair and sighed, but kept on going. Finally, around 11:30 A.M. on August 25, he reached London. How he had found his way there, he didn't know, but he didn't care.
He wandered through the streets, and finally spotted a small, dark, pub. He entered through the front door, but walked straight through to the back. He tapped a brick with his wand, and it opened up to reveal Diagon Alley.
He walked up the street and sat down on one of the steps of Gringotts. He had no idea what he was going to do; he had six galleons in his pocket, and couldn't get any more money. He was just thankful that his trunk was already at Hogwarts in the care of Professor Snape.
He stood up, walked down the street for no reason he could think of, and sat down on a chair outside of one of the shops. He looked around. He saw no familiar faces, until he looked up the street.
Walking in his direction were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, happily talking with no worries. 'Bloody hell,' Draco thought, looking at his ripped tank top and dirty shorts. 'Hermione Granger, just who I want to see me looking like a hobo. Not that I, uh, care what she thinks, it's just, oh, er, forget it.'
He watched them walking down the street, and they finally noticed him. Looking curious as to why Draco Malfoy was sitting alone in Diagon Alley looking like a hobo, they shrugged it off and continued down the street.
Sighing, Draco shook his head and muttered, "What a jolly birthday I'm going to have."
Disclaimer: I dun own anything. The brilliant JKR does. If you sue me, the most expensive thing I own is my computer. If you take it away, someday, far away from today, your bloody, broken, lifeless body will be found in a Taiwanese dumpster. Now that that's done, please read and ignore my rambling!
Draco shivered in the night air. It wasn't cold out; it was the night of August 24, but he was nervous. He was about to become a Death Eater, but he didn't want to. He didn't have a choice.
Draco stood up straight and looked at Severus Snape, spy for Dumbledore. Snape knew Draco didn't want to become a Death Eater, but could do nothing.
"As you all know," a high, cold, painfully familiar voice said, "Young Draco Malfoy is to become one of us today. Yet, before we can give him the Dark Mark, we have a sort of.test, for Draco to prove his loyalty to us."
Draco's eyes widened as a little girl of about nine was thrown into the middle of the circle. "Kill the muggle, Draco," Voldemort said, almost lazily.
Draco fingered the wand in his belt, and made his decision. He stared defiantly into the eerily red eyes of the Dark Lord. "No."
Lucius Malfoy, his father, was shocked. "Kill her now, Draco!" he shouted.
Without taking his eyes off of Voldemort, Draco repeated in a low voice, "No."
Lucius, enraged, reached for his own wand, but Draco wasn't stupid. He turned around and ran as fast as he could away from the Death Eaters.
There was a shout, a blast of green night, and a soft thump. 'They killed her,' Draco thought savagely. There weren't any footsteps behind him, but Draco didn't stop running. His black robes got caught on a branch, but he didn't care. They ripped right off, and Draco kept on running in his red tank top and khaki shorts through the trees.
After ten minutes, Draco finally slowed to a walk. The forest was strangely silent. It soon grew dark; Draco figured it was past midnight, but he kept on walking.
After eight hours of walking without stopping, Draco was exhausted. He ran his fingers distractedly through his dirty blonde hair and sighed, but kept on going. Finally, around 11:30 A.M. on August 25, he reached London. How he had found his way there, he didn't know, but he didn't care.
He wandered through the streets, and finally spotted a small, dark, pub. He entered through the front door, but walked straight through to the back. He tapped a brick with his wand, and it opened up to reveal Diagon Alley.
He walked up the street and sat down on one of the steps of Gringotts. He had no idea what he was going to do; he had six galleons in his pocket, and couldn't get any more money. He was just thankful that his trunk was already at Hogwarts in the care of Professor Snape.
He stood up, walked down the street for no reason he could think of, and sat down on a chair outside of one of the shops. He looked around. He saw no familiar faces, until he looked up the street.
Walking in his direction were Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, happily talking with no worries. 'Bloody hell,' Draco thought, looking at his ripped tank top and dirty shorts. 'Hermione Granger, just who I want to see me looking like a hobo. Not that I, uh, care what she thinks, it's just, oh, er, forget it.'
He watched them walking down the street, and they finally noticed him. Looking curious as to why Draco Malfoy was sitting alone in Diagon Alley looking like a hobo, they shrugged it off and continued down the street.
Sighing, Draco shook his head and muttered, "What a jolly birthday I'm going to have."