Disclaimer:I do not own, nor am I in any way associated with the Harry Potter franchise (This includes the books, movies, and other merchandise). The following story does not necessarily reflect the veiws or beliefs of Joanne Kathrine Rowling, Warner Brothers, or Scholastic Books publishing company.

(How was that? Think I'll make a good lawyer someday?)

Warnings: The following fanfiction covers topics such as explicit homosexual and heterosexual relationships, mentions of suicide, child abuse, drugs, and realistic violence and may not be suitable for young readers, reader discretion is advised. The following fanfiction takes place in an alternate universe set just before and during Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince.

Thank you for taking your time to read my disclaimer and warning!

My mother was dead, my father was imprisoned, and I spent my summer holiday stuck in the empty house.

All alone with myself, dreadfully alone, as usual. I am an unwilling loner, my father was sent to Askaban before I even started school, so I didn't know any of the future Slytherins. By the time they got to Hogwarts they were already the best of friends, in a group that no room for me.

But, back to my current predicament:

I had read all that I could read, every book in Father's study, well, all the ones that didn't try to kill me, anyway.

It had been raining all week so I couldn't go out to the gardens or up on the roof. Though, I worry that if I do so much as set one foot on the roof I'll fling myself off. Which would be a tragedy, indeed, though just for Bonnie, the house elf, who would be stuck with the task of removing my bloodied corpse from the rosebushes.

I had actually stooped so low as to playing cards with the neighbor girl, who came from a long line of Gryffindors (not that I am a very prideful Slytherin, but the hatred toward anyone associated with that house is ground into the brains of the impressionable children of the members of the house of Salazar).

I couldn't sleep away the hours stuck in my prison either, insomnia has plagued me for years, the few precious hours of potion-induced sleep I managed to attain did little to pass the time. Though I suppose the lack of sleep was a good thing, it seemed to help repress my cabin fever.

Presently, I was ticking down the days on my calendar until school started again, where I could drown myself in my studies, and see him again.

I sat at my desk in my father's study, in the leather chair with an overstated back. The candle next to me had dripped down the candle holder and was beginning to pool on the desk.

There was a tap on the window, thinking it was just the wind I went back to watching the wax drip off the candle. I only bothered to actually walk to the window and check to see what was there when I heard the hoot of an owl.

Immediately I recognized the bird, a beautiful eagle owl. It belonged to none other than the infamous Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy.

I opened the window and let the owl fly into the room, he perched himself on the edge of the desk and stuck out his leg. There was a small piece of parchment tied with a red string to the leg of the bird.

The bird stared at my fingers as I gingerly untied the string. On the parchment were five simple words:

See you in a week.

He told me he was going to do it, I, obviously, didn't believe him at the time. Draco was one for making outlandish plans that he very rarely went through with, so I had assumed that when he said 'Ted,' (dear Merlin how I detest that name), 'I think I'll run away this summer,' on the train home, he was just having another one of his (possibly drug induced) moments.

So upon reading those five words I said the only thing that came to my mind:

"Holy fuck the bastard's actually going through with it," The owl glared at me as if he actually understood that I was using profanity, actually, I bet he did; owls are pretty damn smart.

Now, I apologize for my use of vulgar language, but I feel that when properly used it can emphasize things that require emphasis. And, yes, I realize that last sentence was a bit redundant.

Shall I put a stop to my malicious breaking of the fourth wall? I think not. I might as well be speaking to myself right now, but hell, it makes me feel better thinking I'm actually talking to someone.

Is this how psychosis feels?

I walked back to my bedroom, down the long corridor. There was dust covering picture frames and the door handles of rooms that I haven't gone in for quite a while. I must tell Bonnie that this house needs to be completely spotless in seven days (I had been giving her a break from cleaning most of the house, Merlin knows why).

I threw myself onto the bed, landing on the obscene amount of pillows. I tossed the bulk of them off, settling with my favorite down filled one

I took a clear, barely filled, bottle off my desk, pulling out the stopper and downing the contents; coughing afterward. Sweet, sweet, sleep took me almost immediately, while I was still in my clothes.

A/N: If you have any suggestions on how to improve my writing I will gladly accept them, and I will gladly mention you in further chapters for helping me make this fanfiction better.