A/N: The previously untitled fic now has a title. So here's the first chapter. This will be dark, there is no slash and it's an AU of HBP so expect a lot of changes. This was inspired by a friend of mine, who let me use her idea. I won't give it away, I'd rather let the story do that. Enjoy, send me concrit and check out my new RP (shameless advertising, yay!) and blog. Links in my profile, folks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, not making money, etc. etc. Nor do I own Romeo and Juliet, I'm just borrowing the quote for my title. I'm sure Mr Shakespeare won't mind, after making me suffer through the long hours of reading Macbeth in English class seven years ago (Yes, I'm bitter. Plays are for performing, not reading and dissecting, if you ask me. Don't get me started on Death of a Salesman either.)

Chapter 1 - Bloodlines

"Master Draco, your father wishes to speak with you in his study," one of the house elves squeaked, appearing in my bedroom with a low bow. I gave a sigh, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and standing up. I'd almost nodded off, and the book I had been kind of not reading slipped to the floor.

"I'll be right there," I told the elf, watching it disapparate. I walked through the Manor, feeling a strong sense of foreboding. My father had hardly said two words to me since I'd returned from school. I'd heard what happened at the Ministry, and I knew that my father would be in trouble. He was supposed to be in Azkaban, but the Dark Lord had brought him out and let him come home. He'd been house-bound though, it wouldn't do for someone supposed to be in prison to wander around the streets.

I reached the doorway behind which I knew he was waiting. A momentary pause, to gather my thoughts and control my fears, before I could rap lightly on the door. I opened it to find him standing by the fireplace waiting for me. He was smiling, for the first time in a long while. That could mean nothing good. The weight of my wand hidden up my sleeve was reassuring.

"You asked to see me, father?" Despite my feelings, I was glad to hear that my voice sounded even and calm, mildly curious.

"Yes, Draco. Close the door." I obeyed without question, wondering why I felt like I was sealing my fate in such a simple action.

"What is it?"

"Everything you could ever hope for. All will be forgiven, by our Lord." I almost winced, he said our Lord. I was a Slytherin though, and a Malfoy. I had much more self control than that, so I kept my composure and worked to look curious and delighted instead of horrified.

"How?" I was also going to make him get straight to the point.

"You have a task, Draco. If you complete this successfully, as I'm sure you will be able to do, then he will forgive me. You will be honoured and welcomed. It will be difficult and dangerous, but I have every faith in you, my son."

The affection in his voice made me want to vomit. Alarm bells were ringing in my ears and I swear the Dark Lord himself could hear my heart thumping. They wanted to make me a Death Eater. He wanted me to do... something. My father was using me to make up for his own failures. I showed none of my true feelings, but instead carried on. I needed to know what I was supposed to do.

"What's the task, father?" Thank Merlin I kept the tremble out of my voice.

"You'll be returning to Hogwarts, in September. You must find a way to get to him."

Him, who? I almost lost my composure at that one. He couldn't possibly mean Harry, could he? I couldn't stand it, I had to ask. Father had no idea about my friendship (if you could actually call it that) with the Boy Who Lived. If he did, he'd probably try to abuse it to get to Harry. Or murder his only son in cold blood, either way, this wasn't good. I had to be sure.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore. Get to him, and you must kill him. If you can find a way to get assistance into the school as well, it would be of great benefit to you..." He kept talking, going on about Death Eaters and ways into the school, blissfully ignorant of my thoughts and feelings. This was a good thing, because it meant that my legs had not yet collapsed underneath me like I thought they might. I reeled, not quite able to take it all in. How the hell was I supposed to kill Dumbledore? He was one of the most powerful wizards of all time! I was underage, unqualified and only sixteen years old! There was no way the Dark Lord could expect me to... oh. Everything clunked into place. He didn't really expect me to do it. Of course he didn't. It wasn't a chance for redemption at all, it was a punishment. It was do or die trying, and I was supposed to die trying wasn't I?

Well, no. I wasn't going to do it. No way.

"Draco? I know it's a lot to take on, but you're my son and I have every faith in you. Prove that my loyal years of service have not been wasted."

"No." I did it. I don't believe I acutally said that. I must have, because his expression changed instantly and I could see the rage in his eyes, peppered with a tiny hint of fear. I swear I felt the blood draining from my face then, and I was pale enough as it was.

"What did you just say?" he said dangerously. Malfoys don't shout.

"I said no, father. I won't do it."

"This isn't a request, Draco. It's an order. You don't have a choice."

"No, you made the decision for me!" I shouted. I guess that meant I wasn't going to be a Malfoy anymore.

"It is our last chance, Draco. See reason and do as you're told."

"No, father! I will not risk my life for something I don't believe in!" That did it. That really did it. His wand appeared in his hand, but I was just as fast. I think that's what made him hesitate, and gave me the chance to run for it, not sure whether I had actually sent some sort of curse at him. I think I might have done, because he didn't immediately follow me. I tore back along the hallways, straight to my bedroom. To hell with the Reasonable Restriction, they couldn't detect it here, I thought, waving my wand and ensuring all my belongings were quickly in my school trunk. Then I summoned my house-elf. Dobby, out of his bizarre care for Harry Potter, was still happy to serve me, even though my father had treated him so cruelly. I had just shrunk my school trunk when he appeared with a crack. I shoved it in my pocked, along with my wand and bade Dobby take me away, to somewhere safe.

* * *

We appeared on a Muggle-looking street, where all the houses looked the same and had the same neat front lawns. The houses were tiny, in comparison to the Manor, and they had gleaming cars parked outside them. I had always known that Dobby was a little odd, with that sock obsession and whatnot, but this was ridiculous. How was this place going to be safe? I had no idea where we were, until Dobby pointed towards a house labelled with the number four. I caught a sign that read 'Privet Drive,' and it clicked.

"Harry Potter is not in his relative's house, sir. He is going out walking until it is almost dark."

"How do you know, Dobby?" I asked, noting that it was starting to get dark.

"Dobby watches over Harry Potter, sir. Sometimes. He is being watched, to keep him safe. That is all Dobby wants."

I nodded, not sure I understood the elf's meaning, looking around and trying to look casual and comfortable. I hoped I wouldn't be waiting long, a crew of Death Eaters turning up and killing me would probably be a bit of a give away. Sure enough, a dark, skinny figure appeared around the corner. His glasses caught the glare of the street-lights as he looked up, and I could see his shock. I heard the crack of Dobby's disappearance, and I was left alone.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd come and visit," I replied, and I was glad he didn't miss the sarcasm.

"What's happened?" he asked again.

"I'm in a bit of trouble," I confessed, "and I kind of need somewhere to spend the summer. I'd rather not talk about it here."

"Right, well the Dursley's will love this. Having two freaks under their roof for the summer. Should be fun." Harry replied, leading me over to the house. Number four Privet Drive... Draco Malfoy was going to live with Muggles. This ought to be interesting, I thought.

He didn't say a word to his aunt and uncle, who were staring at a black box which played music and had tiny little people moving around on it. I followed him in silence, wondering what I'd let myself in for. Harry stopped at the top of the stairs, and I looked over his shoulder to see what he was looking at. I was a good bit taller than him, and I saw a rather large boy with dirty blond hair and piggy eyes. I had an inkling who he might be but I was waiting. He reminded me a lot of Goyle, if I was honest with myself. That wasn't something to be proud of either.

"Who's that? Your boyfriend?" How dare he suggest such a thing! I almost went for him but Harry held me back.

"Shut up Dudley, and mind your own business. He's just a friend. You know, from school." Harry replied nastily, and I found myself smirking at the boys response. He took one look at me, whimpered and disappeared back into what I presumed was his bedroom.

"What's his deal?" I asked as soon as we were in Harry's room.

"Scared of magic. Ever since... a wizard gave him a pig's tail," he told me with a smirk. I laughed, the thought of it was rather funny. It didn't cheer me up for long, though. I was going to have to explain why I was here, wasn't I? Sure enough...

"So, wanna tell my why you've suddenly decided to live amongst the muggles?"

I gave a sigh, and began to explain what my father had said, my refusal and sharp exit from the manor. It didn't take too long, it had all happened rather quickly and nothing had sunk in yet.

"Dobby brought me here, said I'd be safe. I don't even know how he knows where you live."

"Doesn't matter. So I guess this is it, Draco."

"What?"

"You've picked a side. You're siding with me, right? Not him?"

Oh, that. I guess he was right, I'd made my choice and there was no turning back. "Yeah. Looks like it. Think you can cope, Potter?"

"Guess I don't have a choice." he replied dryly. He was smiling at me though, obviously pleased about my epiphany. I turned to face the door, hearing footsteps thundering up the stairs. Right on cue, the door flew open.

"You, boy. What the ruddy hell is going on? How dare you bring another one of... your lot into my house, without even telling me!"

I assumed this was Harry's uncle Vernon. For the sake of Muggles everywhere, I hoped they weren't all like him. I stayed quiet though, it was probably better to let Harry deal with this. He had more experience in matters like this, after all. Besides, I was having trouble controlling my anger at how he'd spoken, with such contempt and disdain, and I knew that getting the Ministry on my case too was probably not a clever thing to do.

"He'll be staying here, whether you like it or not. I'm not telling you why, either. It's too late to change anything, so get used to it."

"Why can't those... friends of yours take you away? Why do you have to stay here?" the man demanded, turning a brilliant shade of red.

"You know why. If you've forgotten, ask your wife." Harry retorted. It was amusing to watch the vein in the old man's forehead popping, and his face turning all sorts of colours.

"Right. Well... fine. But no trouble, no noise and no... funny business. You hear me? The first weird thing to happen and you're out on your backside, boy. Both of you." With that he stormed out, slamming the bedroom door shut.

"That went well," I said, smirking slightly.

"A lot better than it could have done," Harry replied, getting up and going through his wardrobe. He pulled out a spare mattress and a sleeping bag. The mattress looked like it was filled with air, and I was doubtful as to how comfortable it would be, but I guess anything was better than the floor. He must have seen my expression though.

"Sorry, this is all I have. I was thinking about deflating it and folding it up, I've been organising stuff all summer," he explained.

"What for?"

"In case of emergencies," he replied airily. Fine, he wasn't going to explain. I could guess though, it wouldn't be long before Voldemort tried to get to him again, and he was probably thinking of going on the run or something. I wasn't sure how he thought he'd be able to stay hidden from the Dark Lord, that was not something just anybody could do. I was waiting to see how long it would be before he caught up with me.

I yawned, I was tired. I think the adrenaline had left me, and I just wanted to sleep. I pulled out my trunk, which automatically became it's normal size again, and changed for bed. Harry did the same, and we decided that more talking could wait until the morning. I must have nodded off as soon as my head hit the pillow, because it felt like only seconds later I was being woken up by screaming.

"Harry! Wake up!" I was shaking him, and he wasn't waking up. I was panicked, for obvious reasons. He looked like he was having a fit, and there was nothing I could do. Suddenly it stopped, and he looked up at me, those bright green eyes filled with tears and his skin pale and clammy.

"What's happened? Are you okay?" I asked him, still very panicky.

He shook his head and sat up, running a finger over that scar of his. He swallowed and I worried for a moment he was going to throw up, but he seemed to control it. He looked away, and I was annoyed. Why wouldn't he tell me! I'd never seen him like this before, although I knew Weasley had.

"I think your father told him the news."

I almost didn't hear him. "What?"

"He's livid. He knows what you did, Draco. Voldemort... he's angry with you."

Oh great, there was my nausea as well. I shuddered, feeling as ill as Harry looked. I was as good as dead, wasn't I? I knew that as well as anyone who'd been involved with the Dark Lord. He doesn't forgive traitors.