It was past midnight, and the only lights visible on the quiet lane came from a small, dirty street lamp, and the front window of a cottage which stood in the middle of the row. Its tiny garden was wildly overgrown, the grass almost as high as the windowsill. Its windows were cracked and filthy, its front door was missing its knocker, and there was no letterbox. Whoever lived there did not want to communicate with the outside world.

Within the cottage, in the front room, a young man sat by the fireplace. There was no fire lit, as it was mid July, but he was shivering nonetheless. He sat hunched in a shabby armchair, his knees tucked under his chin, staring blankly into space, his thin, pale face containing no vestige of its former arrogance or malice. He looked up sharply as another man stepped into the room from the hallway.

'What now?' He asked tersely, 'where are you taking me next?'

The newcomer, whose greasy hair hung in lank, black curtains that framed his face, smiled thinly. 'You know I cannot say', he replied, 'follow me please, Draco.'

Draco Malfoy glared at his former mentor defiantly and set his jaw. 'No', he said vehemently, 'I'm done.'

Severus Snape raised an eyebrow. 'Done? What do you mean by "done"?'

'I mean I won't go anywhere else with you', Draco blurted out furiously, 'I've been in six different crummy houses over the past two months and I'm sick of it. I'm not running anymore. I didn't even really do anything that anyone knows about. It was you who killed Dumbledore, not me!'

'Yes, Malfoy', Snape replied patiently, 'but you failed in the task the Dark Lord appointed to you, and so he is most displeased and does not wish to see you. And Harry Potter saw you on that roof and so he knows you to be his enemy. Thus, you are no friend to the Order of the Phoenix. You are, unfortunately, unwanted by anyone.'

'My mother wants me to come home', Draco spat, 'she would welcome me with open arms.'

'And would you endanger her by going home, Draco?' Snape asked quietly, 'would you risk her life?'

Draco swallowed hard, resentment glowing in his face. 'It's easy for you', he spat, 'he thinks you're brilliant, you did what I couldn't make myself do. The Order's out to get you, but so what? The Ministry won't put out a warrant for your arrest because nobody knows what happened up there. But the Dark Lord doesn't want me, I don't want to go to the Order and the Ministry don't care whether I exist or not!'

'I am protecting you, Draco', Snape answered, 'and if the Dark Lord knew it, he would not be best pleased. But I promised your mother I would look after you, and I am doing so. Now stop this self-pitying nonsense and come with me.'

Draco gave a sort of snarl and turned his back on the only friend he had left. Snape sighed in exasperation.

'Malfoy, I am not asking you, I am telling you, you must come with me. If you stay here much longer someone will notice a pattern in my arrivals here and we will be detected. You must not go home.' There was urgency in his voice, and it did not go undetected.

Draco spun around, and stared narrowly at Snape. 'Why are you so set against my going home?' he asked suspiciously, 'what difference will it make to you? My family can get by without your help and if I want to go home, that's my business. Is the Manor being watched?'

Something in Snape's face told Draco what he did not want to know. 'No', he whispered, 'no...'

In two strides, Snape had crossed the room and grabbed Malfoy's arm in a vice-like grip. He began to turn, to transport them both to somewhere else, but Malfoy swung his right fist and heard the sickening crunch as it connected with bone. With a cry, Snape released him and clapped a hand to his nose, which was pouring blood. Before Snape could catch him again, Malfoy turned and disappeared, the sound of Snape's roar of anger echoing in his ears.

Draco was quite surprised that he had apparated to the correct place; in his agitation, he had not been properly focused. But sure enough, he found himself looking up at the tall, wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor. He laid a hand on the gate, and the large padlock fell open, allowing him to push it inwards. He could not help smiling to himself as he approached the house and relief rushed through him. He was going to see his mother...perhaps even his father...and his bedroom...

He scanned the many windows of the mansion, several of which still had lamps lighting within, until he found his parent's bedchamber. It looked like they were still awake. He grinned and sped up a little...but then he noticed that the light in the rooms was flickering...and it was too bright to be a lamp. He let out a howl and broke into a run, his insides twisting into tight knots of fear. The huge front doors stood wide open and he ran straight through them, and up the grand staircase, where he was met by a wall of flames.

Draco...so kind of you to join us at last...

Draco's left arm burned ferociously and he let out a cry of pain. The fire was no ordinary fire; Draco could see faces within it, evil faces that laughed at his foolishness. He pulled out his wand, and tried to pour water on the flames, but a high-pitched laughter filled his ears.

Your schoolboy spells are no use to you here, boy. It is over. Receive your punishment like a man.

Draco whimpered softly, unable to see where the Dark Lord was, but knowing he was within the manor. And then a thin scream reached his ears through the air and he realised his mother was trapped...she was dying.

Without another second's thought, Draco ran forwards into the flames; he could not think from the pain, he could not breathe, he could only keep moving while the mocking flames tore at his body and breathed death into his face. The doors of his mother's chamber had melted away, the entire room was full of flames. Through them, Draco saw his mother's still form on the bed and ran to her.

Narcissa Malfoy's beautiful but austere face was charred and grey, her eyes were blank. Her long, silver-blonde hair, her pride and joy, was singed and blackened. Draco did not even feel the pain of the fire anymore, as he stared into his mother's face and felt a much deeper pain inside that threatened to tear him in two.

'Poor child...and orphan now, just like Harry Potter. Your father passed away, rather tragically, last week. You didn't know, did you?'

The flames had parted and allowed Lord Voldemort through. Draco looked up, into the face of the man to whom he had sworn allegiance. His slit-like eyes, his flat nose, his long, skeletal fingers, filled Draco with a kind of disgust that he had never felt before. He wrapped his arms around his mother's body and clutched his wand tightly in his hand.

'Nowhere to run Draco. Be a man, return to your master and I will forgive you. Lord Voldemort is merciful.'

'You are not my master', Draco said, his voice hoarse and ragged, 'and I swear you'll regret this day!'

He jumped to his feet, and dragging his mother's poor body with him, he resorted not to magic, but to his basic human instinct to escape. In two steps, he was at the window, which mercifully was not surrounded by the flames.

'Run, little boy', Voldemort hissed, 'but you will not escape me.'

'Go to hell', Draco snarled, and he leapt from the windowsill, into the darkness and an almost certain death, which he welcomed.