A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers you are very appreciated. I hope you all had a WONDERFUL Christmas or holiday! Thanks to excessivelyperky, Baby Sweet, Droxy, Melindaleo, denythefreshmaker, Niko's Lover, Shining Bright Eyes, Lyss33, adge9631, TheSlytherinMuggle, MorteDolce, Acacia59601, OoOTheGreatPretenderOoO, Alexa Johnson, Mariya, DracoMalfoylover13, Gabby, Fizzing-Whizbee-nz, notaword, silverbells, supernova8610, Dalou28 (thanks for all those reviews!), missy

HAPPY NEW YEAR to you all! I was rather thrilled that the title of the next book was released on the Winter Solstice and I'm looking forward to the year containing the release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows ----oooo sounds so spooky…Death Eaters, Deathly Hallows-it's going to be wild ride!

Disclaimer: None of it is mine; it all belongs to the extremely talented JKR

Chapter 4: next steps

The following week Draco was back to washing dishes. He hadn't had any more disturbing visions of his mother's ghost and his life of routine resumed. He avoided Desmond as much as possible; the nightmare and then the incident of the smashed dishes embarrassed him, and the last thing he wanted was some adult Muggle hovering over him looking concerned. When, every once in a while his eyes met those of the landlord's he detected worry in them, he always quickly looked away.

A new waitress had been hired and Draco realised right away that she liked him. She reminded him of Pansy in her brashness and while he liked being fawned over he couldn't quell his longing to see Hermione. He resolved to pick up the phone later in the day.

He dried his hands on the towel by the sink after washing the last load. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching and then pulled a tube of hand cream out of his pocket. He had made it himself after having watched Pansy concoct some from a potions recipe for soft skin during last semester. He hated what the dishwater and soap had done to his hands. Malfoy skin should be soft and smooth, not chapped and dry like that of some wrinkled old house elf. His hands felt good and he sighed contentedly. Just then one of the waiters came in with another load of dishes.

Draco snarled, "Nick said that his load was the last one!"

The waiter shrugged and dropped the pile on the table near the sink. "He was wrong."

Swearing softly under his breath. he cursed the waiters with every Muggle swear word he had heard over the summer. He looked at his soft creamed hands and angrily grabbed the load. He turned to the sink and dropped the dishes in shock. The shimmering image of his mother stood before him again.

"Draco," she said in choked voice.

"Go away! Stop…just stop …haunting me! Leave me alone!"

"Draco," came the soft voice of Desmond from behind him. Draco's mother faded away in front of his eyes. Horrified, he turned to see Desmond and the rest of the staff standing at the door looking startled at all the smashed dishes surrounding Draco. His mouth went dry as he took a step backwards and crunched some of the broken fragments.

Desmond cleared his throat. "Draco accidentally dropped some dishes. He'll clean them up. Everyone else back outside, I want those tables scrubbed."

Draco had immediately dropped to the floor and quickly scrambled to clean up the mess. He glanced up to see Desmond watching him. He wondered how much the pub owner had seen.

"When you're finished, I'd like to speak with you upstairs."

Draco felt slightly nauseous at his words. He was about to lose his job; he just knew it.

After cleaning up he reluctantly headed up the stairs with Desmond following. He unlocked the door to the loft and stepped inside, dreading what he knew he would hear.

"Who was the woman?"

"W…what?" he found himself stuttering. Desmond had seen his mother; for some reason Dracothought that only he could see her.

"You're being haunted. Who was she?" Desmond asked directly.

Draco's throat was dry and his heart beat rapidly. He was shocked that the Muggle knew so much. He stared at the table.

"Your mother?" Desmond's voice had softened.

The boy nodded slowly.

"What happened to her?"

Even though he had had no intention of telling anyone what had happened, the words ended up spilling from his lips. "She died saving me."

Desmond didn't say anything for a few moments but kept watching the blond teen trying to decipher what was going on with him. "She must have loved you very much to sacrifice her life for you. A love like that is very powerful."

Draco frantically shook his head. "She never cared about me, she let my father…" His voice trailed off and then he shut his mouth quickly.

"What did your father do to you?" Desmond realised that his suspicions were right. The boy had run away from something…he suspected it was abuse.

The blond stared sullenly off into space.

"Why did you run away from your world? Did your father hurt you?"

His words caught the boy's attention as the gray eyes widened and looked at him suspiciously. "What do you mean, 'my world'?"

Desmond grinned slightly. "It has become rather obvious that you're not of the human world. I suspect, with your colouring, that you are perhaps one belonging to the world of faerie?"

Draco snorted in disgust. "I'm not some bloody fairie! I'm a …" He stopped, startled that he had almost blurted out what he was.

Desmond scratched his chin. "Well you aren't a leprechaun or a troll, so my guess is wizard?"

Draco's jaw dropped. "You believe in leprechauns and trolls and …other things?"

"I'm an Irishman; of course I believe in leprechauns and the banshee and…" he grinned again before speaking, "other things."

Snape stood uncomfortably in a ring of Death Eaters. Voldemort was explaining his next plan.

"My loyal Death Eaters, a special treat awaits us at midnight on July 31st. Harry Potter turns seventeen and is no longer under the protection of his blood relatives. We will be paying a visit to Privet Drive. He, of course, is mine, and I look forward to squashing the irritating little show-off once and for all. You, of course, can also have your fun with the Muggles who housed him and the entire neighbourhood, if you please." His red eyes glowed maliciously.

Severus stood silent, his face impassive, and his mind blank. It had to be so for now.

"Severus, my dear friend. You do not seem as eager as the rest of my followers. Is there any reason for this?" The Dark Lord asked. His snake-like face was twisted with suspicion.

"No, my Lord; it pleases me greatly. However, I am concerned as there will no doubt be a large group of Aurors guarding the brat."

"You are correct, but I had already deduced this and my Death Eaters will easily outnumber them."

"I beg your pardon, my Lord. I had no reason to worry," Severus conceded.

The steel eyes of Lucius Malfoy were on him as he spoke. He glanced in the blond Death Eater's direction. Lucius seemed subdued; the once haughty, arrogant air had faded. The tall man seemed small somehow, as if the last few months had eaten away at whatever smidgen of soul he still possessed.

Snape wondered if Lucius ever gave Draco a thought. If he considered the damage he had inflicted on him with his memory curse. He quickly looked away, lest the urge to pull out his wand and curse the blond wizard overwhelmed him.

The meeting ended not long afterwards and Snape thankfully Apparated to the forests bordering Hogwarts. It would be a sleepless night in turmoil as he planned how best to help Harry. After a meeting like this he usually visited Dumbledore and he would rely on the wise old wizard for the best course of action. He sighed. He missed the headmaster but never more so than tonight.

Harry lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be his last day being sixteen. The following day the Weasleys would come and get him, and he would spend his first day of being an adult wizard at The Burrow. He smiled in the darkness, his heart feeling light at the thought of seeing Ron, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and his tigress Ginny. He realised by the ache in his heart how much he had missed them all. They were his family.

The Dursleys had actually been bearable for the last day or so. They had gone back to completely ignoring him and that was acceptable to him. Aside from blood he shared nothing with any of them, nothing other than contempt mingled with a bit of sadness that things could have been different if only they had let it. He was, and would always be, a freak to them. Something to be shunned, feared and locked away. Something to be ashamed of and ridiculed. Something not worthy of being loved.

With a squeak, Circe jumped up to land on his chest, where she immediately started kneading and purring. He chuckled softly. "I think we may need to clip those little claws of yours just a little." He winced as the pointy ends went through his pyjama top into his skin. He petted her silvery-white furry head. "I love you too," he whispered to her, smiling as he closed his eyes.

Next Chapter: Comeuppance