Author's Note: Here it is, the first chapter of Book III! It is quite long and action-filled, even if I say so myself. ;) Anyway, enjoy the read and if you do, make sure to let me know!

August 3, 1996
Bath

It was a Friday night. She had just finished dinner with her parents and Sophie was busy preparing herself for a night out with Ryan and some of his friends. They were going to see a band at one of the local pubs – which had taken some convincing on the part of her parents – and she wanted to make sure she looked the part. She had put on a ripped jeans and laid out a flannel shirt, and was currently deciding on the t-shirt that she wanted to pair it with.

When the doorbell rang, she cursed Ryan for being early as always and quickly threw on her pyjama shirt before leaving her room, not wanting to leave the boy out in the summer rain longer than necessary. 'I'll get it!' she called as she rushed down the stairs, though by now she hardly expected her parents to move a muscle. Ryan's presence had become a regularity in the household, and after seeing Sophie's mature response to the relationship her parents had quickly accepted it. Just another change we'll have to get used to, they'd said.

When she reached the front door, she took a moment to make sure to arrange her features in the perfect scolding expression before opening. What awaited her on the doorstep gave her pause.

It had been five years since she had last seen Draco Malfoy. They had both been but children back then, all skinny limbs and delicate faces. Now, like her she supposed, he was more matured, with sharper features and broader shoulders, though she could not say he had filled out the way a boy of his age was supposed to. His cheeks were sallow, eyes wary, and there were shadows on his face that she knew shouldn't be there on a sixteen year-old boy. Still, she recognised him in a heartbeat. Him and the woman that stood a little behind him.

'Can we come in?' He asked at last, when she had not moved at all since seeing them. There was a desperate note to his voice, and she noticed he looked behind them as if he was ill at ease out in the open.

'I…'

'Please.'

Sophie nodded, still unsure whether this was truly happening but even after all these years not being able to deny him. She stepped aside, allowing son and mother to step out of the rain into the hallway. In the brighter light, she noticed how some of the shadows were in fact black and blue colouring around the younger Malfoy's eye and across his jaw – and how utterly drenched they were.

'Ryan dear, do you want a cup of tea while you wait. I'm sure So…-' Her mother trailed off then, noticing as she stepped out of the living room the strange couple in her hallway that was decidedly not her daughter's boyfriend. 'Sophie?'

'Mom, I…' She found herself starting, unsure what to say. In the meantime, her father had also appeared next to Tilly, a suspicious look having replaced his initial expression of curiosity. She sighed, realizing that what she was about to say would make her sound mad regardless of how she put it. 'Mom, Dad… This is Draco Malfoy.'

'Draco M…,' her father's eyes widened as realization of why that name sounded so familiar struck him. She didn't give him a chance to voice it, however.

'I will bring Mrs. Malfoy and Draco upstairs to perhaps take a shower and change into some dry clothes. Could you perhaps call Ryan; tell him I can't join them tonight after all?'

'I'll put on the kettle as well,' her mother said at last with a nod, though the look she gave Sophie told her that she had some explaining to do. For now, however, that was good enough.

'Come along,' Sophie said to the two Malfoys, her voice sounding surer than she felt at that moment. 'Mrs. Malfoy, if you like you can take our guest room; the main bathroom is right beside it.' She opened the door to the guest room – which wasn't all that much, she realized, as she glanced around the room that only held a single bed, an old dresser that had been left over from Aunt Margaret's furniture, and a dressing table that had a similar origin. 'Towels are in the cabinet underneath the sink. I will bring you some of my mother's clothes in a moment and leave them on the bed.'

Sophie did not miss the glance the woman exchanged with her son, before she bowed her head stiffly in thanks.

She then continued on, coming to a stop in front of the open door to her own room. 'You can use my room if you like. There's a small attached bathroom behind that door. I'll see if I can find anything of my Dad's that fits remotely, though I fear whatever is in his wardrobe will be a bit on the big side around the middle regardless.' She did not allow herself to gaze at him, or her mind to wander. Instead she nodded and turned on her heel. 'I'll bring up the tea so you and your mother will not have to pretend in front of my parents.'

'Thank you,' he said, as though it physically pained him to do so, and she turned around in surprise. 'We had nowhere else to go and we weren't safe anymore at the Manor, although I can't explain why.'

Sophie swallowed, forcing all the questions that burned on her tongue back, and nodded once more before leaving. After digging through her parents' wardrobe for a good five minutes, she finally selected two semi-decent outfits for the Malfoys to change into. In the meanwhile, her brain finally seemed to kick-start back into function.

Draco had said they couldn't stay at home anymore, at least not safely. It was 1996, which meant that it was the summer before the sixth year of Harry's time at Hogwarts. And if she remembered correctly, that meant that Voldemort had taken up residence in the Malfoy Manor. And that Draco would be taking or had already taken the Black Mark. But then, if he was here, with Narcissa, maybe that meant that he hadn't – or wouldn't? What's more, did that mean that the reason that they were here, that they "weren't safe anymore at the house", was because they were on the run for Voldemort himself?

Sophie swore under her breath as she made her way downstairs, suddenly more confused and perhaps even scared than before. Still, she knew what she was about to face, and put on a brave face as she walked into the kitchen.

Neither her father or mother said anything when she entered and made for the two steaming mugs of tea on the counter. It was only when she was about to pick them up, back turned to them, that her father cleared his throat.

'Sophie… Care to tell us what's going on?'

She turned, all traces of her brave façade melting away as she looked them both in the face. 'I can't tell.'

'Soph, you know that we trust you and your judgment, but you can't expect two strangers to turn up in our hallway, one of them bearing the name of your imaginary childhood friend, and us not to ask questions.'

Of course they were right. With how they had looked, it was a miracle her mother had not immediately called the police. Still, there was no way she could tell them the truth. Her parents were not bad people, but they were Muggles with no knowledge of the magical world whatsoever, and too much common sense to believe in the existence of magic on her word alone. Telling them that the mother and son in their house were on the run from the darkest wizard of all time was unlikely to go over well – even in the optimistic case that they were to believe her. 'They are on the run. From… Draco's father. He's… he's not very good at controlling his temper, you see.'

Her mother's eyes widened, her expression turning to one of deep sympathy – and Sophie felt like receiving a punch to her gut knowing it was because of a lie she had told her mother. 'So that's why… the bruises.'

'We should call the police,' her father said, anger clearly rising. He was not a violent man by far, but Sophie knew that if there was anything he couldn't stand, it was injustice – hence of course his job at the law firm. Now, however, she wished he was a less righteous man.

'No!' She cried, 'No, we can't. I mean, Mr. Malfoy is a very important man at the eh… in the political world. Draco fears that if we inform the police, Mr. Malfoy will find them and bring them back home.'

'They can go into witness protection.'

'Just let it be for now. Please Dad, it's what they want. I… I'll talk to Draco tomorrow morning about it, okay? Just… let them be for now.'

'They have been through enough,' her mother amended, taking a deep intake of breath. 'Now take up those mugs of tea, alright, before they get cold. And do ask if they want anything to eat. There's not much in the house, but I'm sure I could whip up something if need be.'

After promising that she would ask, Sophie quickly took the mugs of tea upstairs. She placed one on the dresser surface in the guestroom, next to the most respectable dressing gown and summer dress she had been able to find in her mother's wardrobe. Then, she went over to her own room and went in to put the tea down on her desk. Still hearing the shower running in the en-suite, she quickly gathered the flannel shirt and possible matching shirts from her bed and stuffed them back into her closet. Satisfied, her eye fell on an object that was innocently placed on her nightstand, and she found herself unconsciously drawing closer.

It was a rather uninteresting looking piece of dark wood, about 25 centimetres long and undecorated apart from the slightly darker handle on one side of the stick. Still, she immediately recognised what it was, knew what it could do, and had found herself coming to a standstill next to it. Her hand was itching to touch it, to attempt to use it. Just once, the voice in the back of her head whispered, just to be sure. In fact, she had been so transfixed by the wand that she had not heard the shower turning off. It was only when the door opened that she jumped up, hand snatching back to her side and an innocent expression on her face.

For a moment Draco did not move from his place in the door frame, dressed in a pyjama pants and oversized shirt from her father, white hair dripping on the carpet. His grey eyes went from her, to the wand, then back to her. Then he continued, putting down his wet towel on the corner of her bed and taking up the mug from her desk. 'Thank you for the tea,' he said, appearing nonchalant, though she could see the tension in his frame, hear it in his voice.

Sophie nodded, forcing her eyes away from the wand with great difficulty and, for good measure, taking a step away from it. 'I told my parents you were running from an abusive father and have convinced them not to take it up with the pol… with officials.' She glanced down at her hands, unsure of how to continue but feeling that she had to, somehow. 'You can sleep here for the night.'

He raised an eyebrow at that, 'What about you?'

'I'll sleep on the couch in the living room. I doubt I'll be getting much sleep anyway, knowing… Never mind. It's no bother, really.'

He seemed hesitant, as if he was about to argue – or question her – but said nothing.

'Go to sleep. It looks like you and your mother have had a long day, and I'm sure you can both use the rest. I'll check on her before going downstairs.' As she was about to walk out of the room, she stopped, sudden realisation striking her, 'Light can be turned on and off via these switches. I would refrain from using other ways of making light. We have no idea in what ways they are tracking you.'