A/N: Every so often we are reminded of how much life imitates art and art reflects life. In the first story of this series, Draco ran away from the Dursleys when he was seven. The authorities only became aware of it five years later when Miss Carmichael made an inquire about Draco, using his real name. This week, in the US, in Kansas, it was discovered that a couple never revealed that their foster child ran away ten years ago, when the boy was eleven. Such is life.

On a happier note, I am posting another chapter. On a sadder note, I'm having a problem responding to reviews. Every time I try to send a response, I am asked to log on. It then gives me the review reply screen again except everything I've typed has disappeared. I may be paranoid but I think this is deliberate.

Let me just say that I agree with Artimes-chan about Hufflepuff. I admit I do have a soft spot for that house. I did put Moody there when I discovered that JKR never placed him. And in my story about Harry's twin brother, Robert also went to Hufflepuff. And then there was the story . . . well, you get the idea. At Hogwarts you have four kinds of people, the Greedy bastards, the Glory hounds, the Eggheads, and the rest of us who actually do stuff.

My thanks to Seebear, particularly for mentioning everyone's reaction to Hermione. You also mentioned the patronus, which made me wonder. Draco's dragon is the size of Norbert, the last he saw the cute little thing. Would his dragon grow as Draco comes in contact with adults of the species?

And a thank you to Shuntress, for letting me know you're reading the story. I hope you enjoy it. Also, to everyone who is reading, thank you as well.

Chapter 21: Quidditch

Draco was excited. It was his first legitimate match as Gryffindor's Seeker. The cold weather had broken early and it was a warm spring day, even though spring did not begin for another two weeks. Wood made it a point to ask if he was wearing his gloves.

The doors opened and the team flew out over the pitch. Draco flew high to get a good vantage point. Across the pitch, his Slytherin counterpart did the same thing.

Draco stopped. The Slytherin Seeker was Theodore Nott. The Slytherin Seeker last year was Theodore Nott. And Draco caught the snitch after Hermione was injured. Draco distinctly remembered Justin saying that Hermione had attacked the Slytherin Seeker, Terrence Higgs, during the match.

"Theo?" Draco asked as he flew over.

Theodore Nott looked around quickly and turned back to Draco. "What do you want?"

"Uh . . ." What did he want? "I was told Higgs took your place last year."

Nott frowned. "After you left, I resigned in protest."

Draco frowned. "Protest of whot? Me being kicked out of school?"

"I told you. I threatened to resign if anyone in my family did anything."

Draco nodded and tried to keep his face neutral. It was someone in the Nott family who cast the imperious curse on Ginny Weasley. And Theo thought he already knew.

"Yeah, but the thing is, they told me Hermione attacked him last year during the match . . ."

"He's an idiot and he deserved it. That's why I was made Seeker again."

"But you were the seeker when we played each other."

Theodore Nott laughed. "And no one bothered telling you the entire story? It was during your match with Ravenclaw." He saw Draco's frown. "What?"

"Justin said Hermione knocked him off his broom."

"Misspoke, most likely, as he heard it second hand as well. She knocked him out of the stands. And she would have been expelled if he hadn't yelled his remark so that everyone could hear." He leaned forward, grinning. "More questions, cousin? If you like, we can play Quidditch instead."

"Shouldn't ask, but what exactly did Higgs say?"

Nott told him.

"Thanks." Draco promptly turned and dove as though chasing the snitch. Theo didn't follow.

For Draco, the match was boring. Neither he nor Nott had spotted the snitch and it had been more than an hour. He did spot Higgs. The Slytherin was sitting in the front row of the stands where his house always were. Boredom made Draco decide to have some fun.

It took him a while. And he had a few false moments when he thought he saw something of the snitch. He was flying near to where everyone else but not to close when he lucked upon the right moment. He flew away at just the right speed so that a passing bludger would turn to follow him but not to catch him. He smiled as he thought 'patience is a virtue'. He also looked around to see if Nott had changed his position, or if he himself would spot anything. Satisfied he was not risking the match, he continued with his plan, flying directly in a straight line toward Higgs. He was noticed of course but that was the point. His plan was once he was two broom lengths away, he'd pull up and sped away as fast as he could. Everyone in Slytherin would be watching him. No one would notice the bludger that was trailing Draco continue in a straight line. Being hit in the face with a bludger is no laughing matter. Unless it was Higgs. And when asked, Draco could admit that he never even knew the bludger was following him.

Draco had barely started toward the Slytherins when he suddenly felt extra weight on his broom. Almost at once he heard Kreacher's voice, almost cringing, as he said he was sorry. How the elf managed to do it, Draco never knew. One second, he was over the pitch. The next second, he was flying down a familiar hallway toward a portrait that had a flower box in front of it. To make matters worse, Argus Filch was standing there talking to Walburga Black.

"Malfoy?"

Argus Filch said that one word. He managed to say it in such a way as to berate him for flying a broom in the hallway while wondering what he was doing there in the first place. As for Draco, he pulled back on his broom to stop. He didn't care about Filch. Or Walburga. He was glaring with all his anger at Kreacher.

His first words were uncomplimentary and rude to the point of being offensive. The most coherent words he said were a short sentence. "What you thinkin'?" Kreacher was cringing in fear for what his master might do. And Draco, too angry to think, pulled back his fist.

Argus Filch grabbed it. He was also angry.

"If you don't want to go to school anymore, you just tell me to let go."

"Will you let go?" Draco hissed.

"As soon as we reach the front gate." Filch did a better job of controlling his tone of voice than Draco. The anger was still there, but something like common sense was there as well. "Why don't you ASK your house elf what he did."

"'e pulled me outa the bloody match."

Filch looked at the house elf. "Your master wants to know why."

"Master ordered Kreacher to help him." The voice was shaky and fearful.

"'OWED YOU 'ELP," Draco yelled. The words that followed were cut off when Filch pulled Draco's arm backward, forcing the boy to concentrate on keeping his balance.

"ARGUS, PLEASE," Walburga yelled. "Bring them to me. I'll sort this out." In a stern voice she called Draco's name. Argus Filch dragged Draco over and only let him go after he was facing the portrait. At her calling, Kreacher came over as well, standing on the other side of Filch.

Walburga ignored Draco. "Dear, why did you bring your master here?"

"Kreacher was afraid. Master was going to hurt someone."

"'an who tol'you to stop me?" Draco spat.

"You did, Master."

Anger left Draco in an instant. Shock left no room for any emotion. The house elf would not lie. But . . .

"What did master tell you?" Walburga asked, her voice as gentle as possible.

"Kreacher is to help Master. If Master needs help, Kreacher does not have to ask."

"Cor," Draco said as he understood. "I even tol' 'im. If I'm angry . . ."

"Kreacher was watching," the elf said, fear constant in his voice. "Kreacher saw what Master was planning."

"And who was MASTER planning to hurt?" Filch demanded.

"Argus," Walburga said firmly, "I should be the one to ask that. This is a family matter, first." She looked at Draco. "Answer the question, young man."

"And best be honest," one of the other portraits said. Several muttered agreements were heard.

Draco admitted his intentions and his plans. He explained why, telling everything he knew and adding what Theodore Nott had told him. When Walburga insisted on hearing what Higgs had said, Argus interrupted, saying she should take his word that it was something she would not want to hear.

Filch pointed out that Higgs had already been punished. His family's intervention and the fact that he had never been in trouble before were the only reasons he wasn't expelled. A week of detentions was the mildest of the punishments. A hundred house points. And he was banned from all extracurricular activities. It was a miracle they let him come to the matches at all. His act was a blatant act of provocation.

Granger fared slightly better. She was removed from the team but only for the remainder of the year. She shared the detentions and the loss of house points. Had it not been obvious that she did not think at all before attacking, she would have received the same fate.

Walburga was looking at Draco. "And what made you decide to cast your own judgement?"

"I thought I was being clever about it. I didn't think anyone would notice."

"If Kreacher did, then others did as well. What you tried to do was foolish on so many levels, Regulus, that I don't know where to start. It would have been obvious what you did and that you did it deliberately. I will leave it for your imagination to decide what would have happened."

Draco nodded. In the light of reason, what he was doing was both petty and foolish. And all because he wanted something to do.

Walburga told Draco to go, ordering him first to tell Kreacher not to punish himself. That done, she suggested Kreacher return to the kitchens, that his master needed some time to himself. As Kreacher apparated away, Argus Filch suggested, at least he said it was a suggestion, that Draco join him every night for the next week to help clean the castle. He walked away as well.

Draco cast a last look at Walburga. She told him to go. Her voice was almost shrill. Draco went to where his broom was lying. He picked it up and began his long walk back to the pitch.

It was all supposed to be fun, Draco thought. As far as he cared, Higgs deserved everything that could be thrown at him. There was a feeling of relief knowing that he would have been caught had he gone through with his plan. But there was also the vague thought that he could have lied his way out of any trouble.

There was the memory of Kreacher. Fresh in his mind because it was so recent. Kreacher cowering before him. Kreacher afraid of him.

"Malfoy?"

Of all people, it was Terrence Higgs talking to him. Behind him were two of the Slytherins he had been sitting with.

"Malfoy, are you right?"

"Whot?" Draco's voice was emotionless. "Oh, you. Bludger din't hit you then."

Higgs looked at Draco as though he was looking at a lost child. "Um, no. When you disappeared, it just . . . wandered off. Was it supposed to hit me?" He smiled to let Draco know that his question was meant as a joke. "Why are you here?"

"Yeah," Draco answered. "Stupid plan, really. Din't think. Kreacher saw me. Stopped me. 'at's why I disappeared."

Higgs was surprised. "Are you sure you're feeling fine? We could take you to the infirmary?"

Draco looked up. Higgs looked as though Draco was barmy. His friends, who had come closer, had the same look. "Ain't Radio, Higgs. Just 'ad a shock is all. Tried to 'ave a tin bath."

"What did he say?" one of the others whispered.

"Kreacher," the other answered, "that's his house elf. Don't know about the rest of it."

Draco watched as Higgs turned to look at his friends. He turned back with some understanding of what Draco was talking about.

"I'll be honest, Malfoy. I don't remember much of that day. I didn't even believe it when I was told what I said. What I shouted."

"Yeah. Knew tha'. Din't think. Sorry."

"You know, I remember eating breakfast clearly enough, and leaving the Great Hall. After that, any memories I have are more like dreams. As for what happened with Granger, I remember nothing." He paused. "How are you feeling? Do you need help?"

"Bit wonky," Draco told him, trying to clear his head. "Lost in me . . . I was lost in my thoughts."

The three Slytherins nodded. One of them mentioned that he might not want to tell anyone he saw them, at least not where he saw them. Draco nodded. He wouldn't say a thing.

When they were gone and Draco was by himself again, he paused to look around him at the corridor he was in, more to get his bearings than out of interest in what was around him.

"Where the bloody hell am I?"

It was later than Draco realized when he finally managed his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. The common room wasn't filled with people although there were quite a few there. In particular, the Quidditch team. And he was the subject under discussion. All head turned to look at him as he entered, still dressed in his uniform and carrying his broom. Draco shambled toward Oliver Wood.

"Bodged it all good this time," Draco told him. "Guess you'll need a new seeker."

"Guess we will," Wood replied. "Could you tell me why?"

Draco turned away but Angelina Johnson reached out and stopped him. "You're very good at dramatic exits. But we could use an explanation about what happened."

Draco tried to brush her arm off when he heard Hermione shout.

"Yell at him. When he's like this he's a self-centered jerk and that's all he understands." She smiled when he turned to her. "You lost us the match, you know. You did it in style, but we still lost."

"Kreacher 'ate's me, 'mione, so sod off."

As he walked away, he barely heard Fred Weasley's comment: "Not the reaction you expected. Is it?"

The next morning, Draco went through all the proper motions of getting dressed, brushing his teeth, combing his hair to cover his scar as much as possible, and walking down to the Great Hall for breakfast. This time, no prepared meal appeared in front of him. Not that it made much of a difference. There was enough food on the table for him to help himself. After a while, he poured himself a glass of juice, then watched it for ten minutes.

Hermione sat down next to him. "Thank you."

"You Seeker again?" he asked.

"Yes, but I'm not sure I want to thank you for that."

Draco frowned. "Then whot?"

"Higgs. I'm glad you didn't do it, but I can't help appreciating the fact that you thought of it. That you thought of me. Thanks"

"Never done it if Justin told the story right. Said you knocked him off his broom. Decided to ask Theo about it. He told me."

Hermione smirked. "Justin was close. I knocked Higgs out of the stands with my broom."

Draco looked up. "How'd you find out?"

"Fred and George. You mentioned Kreacher, so they took a chance and talked to Mrs. Black's portrait. She was happy to hear that you felt terrible."

"Yeah, and I volunteered to help Filch every night this week."

"She told them about that, too. Funny, though. She was upset they took you off the team, until they told her you resigned. Then she suggested you were behaving . . . strangely."

Draco nodded his head as though agreeing with the statement. "Does everyone hate me?"

"No more than they did before the match."

The worst part of it for Draco was that everyone was polite. Fred and George tried to explain that it was because they lost, but they lost in such a s spectacular fashion. The Seeker disappeared into thin air, and the opposing Seeker spots the snitch at the very moment the replacement arrives in the pitch. Draco said he was overjoyed that he was so entertaining. George said his sarcasm needed work.

"George, how do I get into the kitchens?"

"Hungry?" George managed to ask that without laughing.

"Ain' been hungry all day."

George nodded. "Yeah, don't know how hungry you'll get tonight." He gave the directions on how to get to a certain corridor. Then he mentioned a painting of fruit.

"Yeah, I remember that. That was where I saw . . ."

George looked at him. "Slytherins? The day of the match? Probably sneaking food out for a party. If we'd won, you would've seen me and Fred. And since you know where it is, all you do is tickle the pear."

George repeated what he said to convince Draco he was telling the truth. Draco admitted he should have suspected something like that.

It was almost midnight. Draco slipped into his dorm as quietly as possible. His arms ached from polishing suits of armor. He was given his own hallway to do, just to make sure he couldn't possibly finish all of them before his detentions were done. Although they weren't called detentions. Filch reminded him at least three times that he had volunteered.

And now it was time for sleep. He kicked off his trainers as he took off his shirt and tossed it toward his trunk. He sat on the bed and pealed off his socks, dropping one in the process. When he failed to find it with his foot, he went to his robes to fetch his wand from its pocket. As he did so, he thought of Kreacher. Would his clothes be cleaned and ready for him in the morning as they always were? He always thought this was done by his own house elf, but the others had their clothes cleaned too. He had always taken it for granted that Kreacher would be there.

He knelt down on the floor and cast the lumos spell. In the light, he found his errant sock and put it in the corner of the trunk with the other sock and dirty shirt. He cancelled the spell. And sat on the bed. And thought. About Kreacher. About the look on Kreacher's face when Draco went to hit him.

Draco sat his wand down and reached for a clean shirt. Once the shirt was in his hand, he hesitated. Maybe he shouldn't go. He had half decided to change his mind when he picked up his wand from the bed. By the time he was about to put it away, his feelings of guilt had returned. Instead, he stuck his wand into his belt and hurriedly put on the clean shirt.

The common room was deserted as he came down the stairs and he quickly walked to the entrance way. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the corridor and hurried away. The last thing he wanted to do was to get caught. Once Draco felt he was safe, he turned his thoughts to other things, such as the stone floors felt cold to his bare feet, and why didn't he think to put his trainers back on.

He reached the main floor and went through the doorway to the right of the main staircase. He walked down the corridor until he found the painting that he remembered. He tickled the pear. It giggled, then became a door handle. With trepidation he opened the door.

Whatever he expected, it wasn't this. A dozen house elves approached him at once, asking him if he wanted anything. One of them was already holding out a tray of pastries. For some reason, he thought they were too loud. And when Draco asked if Kreacher was there, in the kitchens, one elf went to run off at once to fetch him. Draco had to call him back. He insisted that they tell him where his house elf was so that he could go there.

The house elves gave him a strange look but several of them pointed the way. All of them followed. By the time Draco reached the place where Kreacher slept, the house elf had awoken. And it seemed that every elf in the kitchens were awake as well.

"How can Kreacher help Master?" The voice was slow and filled with sadness and fear.

"Kreacher . . . um . . . could forgive Master." The entire kitchen was silent. Not one elf was making a noise. "I was wrong. Everything I did yesterday was wrong." His voice became thick. "I shouldn't have tried to hurt anyone. I shouldn't have yelled at you." He wiped a tear from his eye. "I shouldn't have tried to hit you."

Draco had fallen to his knees. He couldn't help it. The memory of Kreacher's face as Draco pulled his hand back to hit him, would not fade, would not go away. "Please. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I was so wrong."

"Master owns Kreacher. Master does not have to apologize."

"Own you?" Draco asked through his tears. "You own me. I have to appreciate everything you do for me. And I don't. I'm not," he hiccuped, "not good enough for you." He wiped his eyes. "Please. Forgive me. Please give me another chance. I don't want to lose you."

A small hand touched Draco's shoulder. A soothing voice answered his plea. "Master gave Kreacher the right to choose his own Master. Kreacher chose Draco Malfoy. Kreacher chooses to keep Draco Malfoy." As Draco whimpered, the elf softly added. "Kreacher forgives Draco."

Now Draco was crying freely. He had not lost his friend. He was hugging the house elf for all he was worth, constantly mouthing his gratitude mixed with promises to do better. As he let go, a house elf forced a cup of tea into his hand, insisting that Draco drink, that it was for his own good. Draco did as he was told. And the tea did its job. Draco finally relaxed. And as he relaxed, his exhaustion took hold of him.

The house elves treated him kindly and gently. They woke him up the next morning, Monday, in time for lunch.