I am no longer a fan of A/N in stories. I believe it breaks up the story's natural flow, so I will try to post information only on my profile from this point forward. Clearly I've been writing this story for 8 years and only seem to update every four, but it is my hope that this story will be finished within the next year and a half. Also, I don't pretend to be British. I'm very very American(and PROUD!), but if any knowledgeable Brit wants to correct something I said or spelled wrong I'm more than willing to admit any mistakes and change them accordingly. Thanks.

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Chapter One

The room was closing in on him, and he soon would not be able to breathe. He swallowed hard and coughed into his shoulder several times. He could feel the sweat forming on his upper lip, but his limbs were permanently glued to his sides, so he did not brush it away. He shut his eyes and exhaled more times than necessary.

"I cannot do this," He stubbornly thought. He avoided Dumbledore's face and gazed around the Headmaster's office seeing several fascinating objects for allowing his eyes to rest on the wall behind the old wizard's head.

"I won't allow myself to sink...so...low. I can't ask him for help..."

his resolve kept slipping as every proud thought came to his was raised to never need help, but times were obviously changing...even for the Malfoys.

"Mr. Malfoy? Let us not lie to ourselves...you are in dire need of protection and have nowhere to go. I would not want to see one of my prized pupils die in a crossfire between Voldemort and the school." Draco's eyes turned to Dumbledore's twinkling ones, and watched as he sucked on a lemon drop. It seemed that the Headmaster always knew just what to say, to make any situation go in his favor.

"Is Dumbledore trying to say...that he will help?" Draco wondered to himself, still unsure. "Am I willing to take it?"

"Furthermore, I know that you are not ready to decide where your allegiance lies and I am not blaming you. It is difficult to go against all that you have been brought up to believe. And I know how you adore your father. I only want to keep you safe." Draco was shocked at the headmaster's words. He had always known that Dumbledore despised him.

"What are you saying?" Draco asked, warily. His naturally suspicious nature was returning, but so was his confidence. He found the courage to look the older man in the eye with more sureness.

"Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall and myself will send you away, but no one else will know. You'll be safe where we are planning to send you and I assure you, no one will ever be able to find you. If that is what you wish. And Voldemort is an irrelevant factor there."

Draco weighed situation. He could stay, and either be killed by "the good side" for being a Death Eater or be forced into serving the Dark Lord. The young Malfoy shuddered. The thought of being ripped apart by his enemies did not make him feel warm and fuzzy inside, but serving anyone didn't make him jump with glee.

"Ahh...the choices..." he thought sarcastically.

"People should serve Draco Malfoy, and never the other way around. But, being hunted like a dog doesn't suit me either."

"I suppose that is your answer then?" Draco realized he had thought his feelings aloud, and saw that his headmaster's eyes were twinkling...again.

"Well...why not? It's not like there is anything here for me. What do I have to lose?" he rationalized. His father would probably disown him for not becoming a Death Eater, anyhow.

"I'm so pleased you feel that way Draco. The potion for this type of travel takes weeks, but I had a feeling that you would feel that way. I have taken the liberty of completing it. In about an hour, it will be safe enough for you to use. Go say good-bye to your friends. I am sorry to say that it may be months or..." Dumbledore's voice trailed off, but Draco got the message. The young Slytherin may never return to this place again.

"It's a good thing I don't have many real friends," he thought.

Draco got up to leave Dumbledore's office, but something the Headmaster said rung in Draco's head. "Difficult Potion? What type of traveling was he doing?"

"What are you talking about, Professor? Where are you taking me that would need such a complicated potion to get there?"

The Headmaster smiled at his young student. He had always liked Draco. He was a little rough around the edges, but there was just something about that him.

"Draco, there is only one place I know that you will be safe from all of this. I won't say that it will be better than where you are now or happier, but it will be safer." Draco was smart enough to read between the lines, and realized that Dumbledore was bent on keeping his destination to himself.

Draco glared at the Headmaster and eased from the room, but not before hearing, "And pack lightly. You won't need much where you're going." It took all Draco had not to slam the door.

Draco Malfoy strolled through the halls of Hogwarts as if nothing was about to drastically change in his young life. He plastered a cocky grin on his overly beautiful face and strutted down the hallway like a seasoned peacock. He stood to his full height, which was the same height as his beloved father. He could feel the silky strands of his silver hair brush against his arms as he weaved through the crowds of people, effortlessly. Draco had let his hair grow down his back creating a remarkable resemblance between father and son. Draco sometimes wished he were more like his father inside as well. It would surely make his life simpler.

Bow and Scrape... Bow and Scrape...how easy was that to do? His father really did have it made. Draco was too proud for his own good. He blamed an over indulging mother who loved her own reflection so acutely that such a strong admiration of self was bound to rub off on her only snow haired child.

Draco glanced about him, and saw the usual expressions that accompanied his presence. Looks of pure hate and jealousy spread through the crowd. Draco couldn't help but feel proud of himself. To have so many people hate him because they knew that he was better than them was quite an accomplishment. He also saw expressions of admiration and adoration. Draco also got pleasure from that because to be hated and loved was really saying something. What it was actually saying Draco did not know or care.

A loud crash echoed through the halls (all of the students that were hanging around the hallways were suddenly very worried about being late to class) and the hallway cleared quickly. This left Draco alone. Curious, Draco went to inspect the source of the sound. He found the Mudblood frantically trying to pick up her fallen books. The bottom of her ugly brown satchel had become un-stitched causing the accident. He smirked to himself; it could be a long while before he would be able to torment Granger again. How lucky he was to be at this place and at this time!

Life was sweet...oh so sweet...

"Well isn't this interesting; the Mud blood is all alone. Never thought I'd see the day. So, where are the Weasel and the Golden boy?" At the sound of his voice, the girl turned her head towards it, only to frown. Once she heard his comments, Hermione Granger shot knives at Draco's silver eyes, and curled her lip in disgust.

"Malfoy, I'm surprised to see you. Haven't seen you in a couple of days. I had assumed that you were busy terrorising some poor first year in the Forest. I can assume that Hogwarts' young minds are safe from you?" the Mud blood's tone was cool and distant. Hermione gathered the rest of her things, and strolled past her rival, without waiting for a reply.

Draco was actually impressed by the Mudblood's quick tongue, and today he would let her win. He was pressed for time anyway. "Touché." he said loud enough for her to hear.

Hermione paused in her step, and glanced over her shoulder at Draco, glared, then continued to walk away. A dull pain stung Draco's body; he would miss the Mudblood. She was the only person on his intellectual level in Hogwarts, and fighting her was something he would miss. He shook his head at those sentimental thoughts.

After getting past the picture outside the Slytherin house, he entered the common room. Naturally, there was no one in the common room, because class was in session, and for that, Draco was grateful. He did not want to have to be around other people at this time.

Draco Malfoy was not a particularly sentimental person, but after so many years of residing within these walls, he did feel a bit emotional. He sat in his favorite chair in the room, a silver wing back chair that was as soft as money could buy. His long body was instantly buried in the silky softness of the cushions, and he let the memories of the past six years flow through him like the river Thames.

He remembered his first encounter with that prat Potter, and how his kind offer of friendship was so humiliatingly shot down, his first kiss with some girl from Hufflepuff, and the day that he turned into a ferret.

"Talk about bittersweet." he whispered to the silence.

He got up from the chair, and went to his room to collect his belongings. Draco opened the door slowly, and let his eyes feast on his room for possibly the last time. It had five silver sheet covered beds with green drapes. He walked to the very last bed. His own space was slightly bigger than the other boys, after "persuading" them to let him have the largest bit of the room. If he recalled correctly, none challenged him on it, not even Blaise. Bless the Malfoy legacy.

He went over to his dresser, and took out all of his things, and tried to decide what he could not possibly live without. He found only three things: a pure gold dragon necklace that his parents had given him upon his birth, a small family portrait, and a tiny box that contained his very life. He then scribbled a quick note to Blaise, Goyle, and Crabbe simply saying, "See you around."

He threw his other things back into his drawers, and he left the dorms without looking back, not even once.

Draco stroked the tatoo of a large silver snake, with tiny yet real emeralds as the eyes, on his upper arm for courage before reentering Dumbledore's office. It reminded him to look strong in front of his Professors and to feign indifference to the whole situation. His father had been training Draco's tolerance for dark curses and he had done exceptionally well. Draco had been bleeding from the mouth, but still managed to pull himself up off the floor after a half hour of torture. He had been rewarded and punished with the body art. It was a triumphant reminder of his victory and a symbol of what disobedience would look like: a beautiful creature that was quick to strike if provoked. He pulled his sleeve back over his arm and barged into the room.

The three professors whipped around to look at him, but did not acknowledge him. The strain in their old eyes was salutation enough. Draco looked into his teachers' anxious faces, and hoped that for his safety it would be awhile before he saw them again.

"Are you ready, Draco?" McGonagall asked. She stared at him pointedly, under her spectacles, and he felt as if she were seeing straight through him. It felt strange leaving his life in this woman's hands.

"Where am I going?" he asked emotionlessly.

Snape sighed; he really did not want to be here right now, but for Draco he would do it. Snape wasted no time and launched into a blunt explanation: "You are going to an alternate universe that parallels to this one. When you get there, the people will act the same... only differently."

"I will be surrounded by the exact same people that are in this universe?" Draco was not shocked; Draco had studied up on alternate universes in his spare time. He found it all horribly fascinating.

"In theory, yes." Dumbledore interjected.

"If that's true, where is the Draco of that world?" His words seem to fall flat on the floor, and the occupants seemed uncomfortable.

There was a long pause, but finally Professor McGonagall spoke, "He is assumed dead, and was given an unmarked grave for...reasons that I cannot say. Only a few people know of his death, and Professor Dumbledore and Fudge had negotations with those of that world. You are to take his place, and no one is to know that you are not their Draco. Are you following me?"

For moments, the Slytherin said nothing; he was silently mourning the loss of his other self who he had never met.

"Yes, I understand you." he managed to say.

"I know this is too much to take in, but we must ask more of you. In order to let you stay in that world as the other Draco, their Fudge wants you to find the other Draco. Be forewarned, my boy." Dumbledore said quickly, and this time there was no twinkle in those eyes.

Draco felt drained; this was a lot to sponge up, in all of five minutes. How was he supposed to find a dead man that wasn't really dead? What an idiotic notion! This was not what he had signed up for. Why did it seem that his life was getting more complicated than it already was?

"Come along, Draco." The Potions Master soon tired of all of the drama swarming in the room. He was anxious to get the spell started and go back to class. Snape grabbed Draco's arm, and dragged him over to a bubbling cauldron.

"It's time for you to get going."

Without warning, Snape shoved him into the pot. Draco's skin burned on immediate contact and he felt as though something had gone wrong. He felt his body being knocked against the sides the cauldron and wanted to snap Snape's neck for screwing up the potion, until his skin ceased to burn. The hot liquid was gone. He was suddenly surrounded by rushing winds which knocked his body along the invisible walls between one world and the next. His brain was knocking against his skull, and Draco could feel every minute of it. Fortune had not been on his side, and he had remained conscious throughout the entire experience. Suddenly, he landed flat on his back with a hard thump. His brain smashed into the back of his eyes and Draco refused to open them. Finally, he opened his eyes to see where he was, but quickly closed them when white light came flooding into his fair colored pupils.

"Malfoy?"

The word echoed through his mind, and he almost felt as though the voice wasn't truly there. He felt disconnected from reality and everything seemed surreal. But, Draco was quickly brought back to reality when he realized that he recognized that voice as Potter's.

"Draco is that you?" another voice asked.

"Why does everyone keep saying my bloody name? Who else would it be?" he asked. Draco thought of his missing other self and almost laughed at the irony.

"It's nice to see you, as well Draco." the same voice replied. Draco looked up to see Dumbledore's twinkling eyes staring down at him. His mind began to buckle into itself as he took in his surroundings.

"Damn those bloody eyes of his." Draco thought to himself just before he escaped into the blackness.