Prologue
Draco Malfoy strode through the dark streets of Muggle London, hands fisted tightly by his sides, grey eyes sparking and jaw set. He was angry and frustrated; two emotions that he did not cope well with. He had tried and tried to ignore the goings on of one Harry James Potter but it had proven futile. He had waited in vain for someone else to step in and do what he could not bring himself to do, but he could not idly stand by any longer and watch as the once confident young man slowly self-destructed.
People ducked their heads and averted their eyes as Draco swept past them; he posed an impressive figure with his tall stature, stormy eyes and black winter coat billowing out behind him.
The gold numbers on the side of the white brick building matched the numbers scrawled on the scrap of parchment in his pocket. He pushed through the front door to the residential building and strode straight for the stairs. He was in no mood for the lift.
Draco was breathing a little more heavily as he wrenched open the grey door with the painted number four on it and exited into the internal hallway. His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared with renewed anger as he whipped up the long hallway. He was angry that The Boy Who Lived had forced his hand this way, and he was angry at himself for caring.
A quick glance at the small elegant plaque beside each door frame indicated in which direction he was headed next. The building was deceptive in its wrapping; a refined external façade which belied the struggles within, a place where the upper crust hid away so that they could pursue a high that was neither high nor long enough.
The blond wizard halted outside door number four hundred and seven and, without hesitation, rapped sharply on its glossy white exterior.
A man with bleary eyes and mussed up brown hair pulled back the door a crack and squinted out at him. "Yeah?"
Draco's eyes narrowed. "I'd like to speak to Harry Potter."
The young man blinked, hazel eyes gazing at Draco suspiciously. "Who are you?"
Draco sighed and withdrew his wand. Before the other man had time to react, Draco had swiftly knocked him flat with a succinct Petrificus Totalus.
Draco stepped over his immobile body, pulling the door shut behind him, and walked into the spacious lounge room. He kept his wand at the ready in his right hand, unsure of the reception he would receive from any other lurking strangers – as well as from Potter himself. Scarhead might not be too pleased to see him.
Draco's lip curled disdainfully at the prone figure of a pretty young woman passed out on the white leather couch, a mirror sitting on the glass table in front of her with two untouched lines of white powder.
He continued his search. The flat was not enormous but it was very tastefully decorated; lots of white and glass and sparkle everywhere. Surprisingly it was fairly clean and tidy as well, not the smashed wreckage that Draco had been anticipating.
Draco wandered up the short hallway, peering into the bedrooms as he went. The first two were empty, save for a calico cat dozing in the warm sun on the windowsill, and the third bedroom housed a sleeping, half-naked Harry Potter sprawled across the unmade king-sized bed.
Draco took a steadying breath and quietly entered the room, wand at the ready. He sat down on the plush white cushions of the window-seat, observing his sleeping companion with a sharp eye.
"Potter." He spoke distinctly into the quiet stillness of the room.
Harry's pale face scrunched in annoyance at the intrusion of sound and he sluggishly moved one arm to cover his closed eyes.
"Harry Potter." Draco tried again, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Wake up. You have a visitor."
"Huh…?" Harry's arm slid down off of his face and one eye opened a crack, trying to focus on where the sound was coming from.
Draco frowned at Harry's enlarged pupil and disoriented gaze. The Slytherin stood and quietly crouched next to the bed so as to be at eye-level with Harry. "Do you know me?" he asked.
Harry's other eye opened and he blinked listlessly, still not focusing on Draco's face, green blood-shot eyes continually roving around the room in confusion.
Draco straightened and shook his head, once again pocketing his wand. Potter was no threat to him in this state.
Harry blinked a few more times in bewilderment before allowing his eyes to fall closed once more.
With a heavy sigh, Draco wrapped one hand around Harry's forearm. Gripping tightly, he quickly apparated them away from the bright sun-filled room and out of Muggle London.
