Chapter One

"How much less in them that dwell in houses of clay, whose foundation is in the dust, which are crushed before the moth?" Job 4:19

Dumbledore looked gravely at Draco as Hermione led him out of the Dark Arts library in the Gillamoor camp to meet his old Headmaster. Dumbledore's look was more compassionate than stern however and Draco felt slightly relieved to see this. The Aurors and others working at searching the camp stopped what they were doing and stared at him as he was led through the main chamber by Hermione and Snape. If Draco had not been so numb with shock and exhaustion he would have felt unbearably self-conscious but as it was, all he wanted was for someone else to sort things out for him and he knew Dumbledore could and would.

Hermione explained to Dumbledore what Draco had told her in the Dark Arts library. The old man's kind blue eyes looked into Draco's glazed ones with a gentle gaze, noting the fear beneath the blank numbness. He smiled kindly at the boy. "It's alright, Draco. Everything will be done to help you," he reassured him. The fear at the back of the boy's eyes lessened slightly and some of the tension in his slender body relaxed. He merely nodded in response.

Hermione took him off to one corner and gave him some of the coffee that had been kept brewing for the team as they worked. He sipped it absent- mindedly, a clump of his usually immaculate hair falling over his dirty face as he stared unseeingly into space. Finally he asked in a low voice, "how many? How many were found?" His posture was slumped and his voice flat.

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly, glancing up as Snape stalked by in a swirl of black robes on his way back to the Dark Arts library on an errand for Dumbledore.

Draco noticed her glance and although it was brief, he guessed immediately. "Are you two. you know.?" he asked.

Hermione smiled slightly. "I guess so. It's still too early to tell," she said honestly. Draco merely nodded. He had seen Snape's territorial behaviour in the Dark Arts library earlier when he'd found Hermione in there with him. Draco had no doubt of Snape's intentions and seeing Hermione's constant awareness of Snape's movements around the camp now, he had no doubt of Hermione's feelings either. It was subtle but unmistakable. He continued sipping his hot coffee and allowed his mind to become blissfully blank while he could, and carefully avoided the curious and hostile stares of the team as they worked around him.

It was late once all the rooms in the camp had been gone over one more time and Dumbledore had de-briefed everyone. Draco was more tired than he could ever remember being in his life. Dumbledore took Draco and Hermione's hand, and apparated them back to his office at Hogwarts.

Draco already knew what he had to do. He wanted nothing more to do with his parents. His parents had never abused him and had spoilt him in many ways but their coldness and emotional neglect had left him with very few warm feelings for them. They were strangers to him in many ways and he had scant respect for them. What he had seen that night had been the last straw. Although he did not love his parents, he had desperately wanted their approval and attention. After seeing the Gillamoor camp, a project his parents had surely been involved in, he no longer wanted anything from them at all. He felt horror flood his veins when he thought of what he would have had to involve himself in eventually to win the approval and attention he had once wanted so much.

Nothing he had ever done had really pleased them. He had been a better than average student but that was not enough, he had made the Slytherin Quidditch team but that had not been enough either. He had finally taken the Dark Mark the summer after graduation but it was only the beginning of winning their approval, he had come to realize. In the back of his mind, he cynically wondered if killing Mudbloods rather than merely taunting them would have finally done the trick. He pulled his mind back to what Dumbledore was saying as he was handed a mug of hot, thick soup.

"Now young Draco, how can we help you?" the old wizard was saying, as he settled into his chair again. Snape and Hermione were present too.

"I want to divorce my parents," Draco stated baldly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Snape dart a narrow-eyed glance at Dumbledore.

"You do not wish to return to your parents?" Dumbledore asked him gravely.

Draco went on to explain what had been in his mind since hearing of the camps that evening for the first time at the Death Eater meeting.

When Dumbledore suggested making Snape his guardian for the few weeks until his eighteenth birthday, he had been amazed to discover that Snape had been filling that role for Hermione for the past few months. The rumours round the school had been that she and Snape had been having an affair in her last year at Hogwarts. When he had seen the two of them tonight, he had assumed the rumours had been correct. Now he realized he'd had the wrong end of the stick all along and felt a bit foolish or rather would have, if there was not so much else on his mind.

He and Snape and Dumbledore went on to discuss the arrangements for another hour or so until Snape noticed that Hermione had fallen asleep in her chair. "With your permission, Headmaster," Snape said, getting up and going over to her.

"Yes, yes. Put her in the room she used in her last weeks at Hogwarts, Severus. She may as well use that tonight," he said as Snape bent over her sleeping form and carefully picked her up without waking her.

Draco was reminded vividly again of the rumours at the end of seventh year of Snape carrying Hermione around the school in the middle of the night in just her nightie. He watched with interest as the tall, lean man carried the girl out of the office, his hawkish face looking into hers with keen- eyed concern. It was odd, Draco thought, to see concern for anyone soften the harsh features of Snape's face. It made him seem suddenly slightly more human, he mused. Not very much more human, he confessed to himself, just slightly so. Frankly, he still felt rather terrified of Snape although (as Hermione had just pointed out herself earlier) he had been a rather obvious teacher's pet in his Potion's classes. He had covered up his fear of the sinister Potions Master with smug bravado and had played up to the teacher's unmistakable favouritism.

Snape was back inside of five minutes. In the meantime, Dumbledore had told him that Draco was to stay at Hogwarts for a few days until the divorce could be arranged. "I'm afraid that your parents are likely to be captured quite quickly now with Voldemort out of the way and you may be asked to testify at their trial. I'm sorry that you may have to be put through an ordeal like that," Dumbledore was saying compassionately, looking him over the top of his glasses at the boy with sympathy. He mused that Draco suddenly looked very young as he sat hunched in the brocade chair, his thin face wan and weary.

"I don't care. I'd rather tell the truth and have it out in the open. I'm tired of lying and hiding," Draco said bitterly. "My parents deserve to go to Azkaban and if I hadn't defected tonight after seeing what I saw, then I'd deserve to go there too," he added harshly, his pale eyes averted and staring unseeingly into the fire.

"You sound just like Snape the night he defected," Dumbledore said with a feint smile, his blue eyes flicking over to the sombre teacher sprawled tiredly in another chair.

Draco's gaze also flicked over to Snape, curiosity suddenly evident in the boy's colourless eyes. He suddenly realized there was a whole side to Snape that he knew nothing about. In fact, he was beginning to get the idea that he knew absolutely nothing about the man at all.

"For now you need sleep and rest. I'll organize things for you in the morning, including Snape's guardianship. For now, I'll show you to your temporary room. I suspect that once your parents are convicted, as they surely will be, you will inherit the Malfoy estate as soon as you turn eighteen," he said, getting up and leading Draco to the door of the office.

A peculiar expression crossed Draco's face. He had not even thought of what would happen to the estate should his parents be caught and convicted. He was unsure of how he felt about returning to the Malfoy estate, even without his parent's presence there. He knew the place inside out as he had grown up there and his parents had groomed him to take over one day. He even knew how to get into the Dark Arts room under the Manor, although he had never been allowed in there. He didn't think he could bear to live there, with the way his parents had run the household but perhaps once he was the owner he could make changes to make it livable for himself. His pale brows drew together in a frown, there was too much to think about but he was too tired to think.

Dumbledore had led him down a short passage after they passed through a wall outside his office. He opened a thick oak door, beautifully carved with a pattern of leaves around the border and led him inside. "This is your room for now. You have a private bathroom next door. Here is some sleeping potion should you need it," he added, handing Draco a small phial. "Come and see me tomorrow when you're feeling up to it. There are clean clothes in the wardrobe," he added and indicated an oak door set in the wall with the same leaf design. "Oh and don't go exploring in the other rooms in this passage. You don't want to burst in unexpectedly on Hermione now, do you?" he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

Frankly, Draco didn't. He didn't want to talk to anybody or do anything except sleep and once he'd had enough sleep, he wanted to think and make plans for his future. He and Hermione had never been friends, and he didn't want to deal with her hostility at this time in his life. Although, he pondered, she had been very fair-minded to him today in a cautious sort of way and she had had no call to be. If their situations had been reversed, he would have hexed her first and asked questions later but she had given him a chance. He was too shattered to try and puzzle out Hermione's behaviour at that point.

Dumbledore left and Draco went over to the wardrobe to pull out some pajamas. He passed a full-length mirror on the way and he paused to look at himself. He didn't recognize himself. His pale hair was clumped with mud, his face was almost blue-white and he had a cut on his cheekbone. Blood had dried down that side of his face, and it was splattered with mud too. His Death Eater robes had a huge rip in them, and were caked in places with mud and crushed heather. They would have to be thrown out, not that he had any further use for them. He turned his thin arm out slightly and looked at the black Dark Mark on the delicate, veined skin of his inner forearm. He knew that would be there until either he or Voldemort died. His short nails had mud under them and his slender, almost boney hands were filthy. He stared into his own narrow, pointed face for a long time and wondered who the hell he was.

Finally he shuffled back to the huge, four poster bed in the middle of the room and fell into it. He felt too discouraged and numb to even bother bathing or changing. Staring blankly ahead of him, his eyes gradually closed and he fell asleep.

* * *

"Master Draco! You is made the bed filthy! Dobby will have to strip the whole bed and wash the sheets today!" a squeaky voice was saying with obvious dismay. "Why didn't Master Draco have a bath? Master Draco has a whole bathroom to himself but he makes the bed filthy for Dobby to clean," the annoying voice continued.

Draco opened one eye and peered at the floor next to him. There stood a familiar House Elf wringing its small hands. "Dobby?" he muttered disbelievingly.

"Oh yes, Master Draco. Wasn't you knowing that I nows work for Dumbledore here at Hogwarts?" he asked, going over and fetching a silver tray from a nearby table under the leaded window.

"Er. no," Draco said truthfully and squinted at the summer sunlight coming through the window.

Dobby was wearing a sailor's cap, a pink and purple striped bowtie that gave Draco a headache just to look at, an orange velvet vest and mis- matched socks; one with a zebra skin pattern and one with Daffy Duck on the side - not that Draco knew who Daffy Duck was being a pureblood with no exposure to Muggle pop culture.

"Here is your breakfast, Master Draco. Master Draco must eat up. Dumbledore is telling Dobby that Master Draco has much to do today that is important and needs to eat all his breakfast. Dobby also suggests that Master Draco takes a bath too," the Elf added, wrinkling his long pencil- like nose. "Master Draco smells very bad. Master Draco smells of moors and dead things," he said earnestly.

Draco gave the House Elf a withering look. "Miss Hermione already left hours ago. Is Miss Hermione's eighteenth birthday today. Miss Hermione has a big party with all her friends. This came for you from Miss Hermione just a little while ago," he continued and pulled an owl delivery out of his vest. The owl had arrived a few hours ago but had given up on waiting for Draco to wake up.

Draco was reluctantly forcing some bacon down his throat and more enthusiastically drinking the hot coffee but he pushed the tray off his lap to read the owl.

Draco,

I am pleased to invite you to the Three Broomsticks tonight at 7pm to celebrate my eighteenth birthday with me and my friends.

I would guess that this is going to be a difficult time for you and parties are probably the last thing on your mind. However, I wanted to extend an invitation to you anyway so that you know that you are welcome among new friends.

If you do decide to come, I will ensure that some of my friends take you under their wing and take care of you for the night as I imagine it would be difficult for you to suddenly be thrown in with mostly members of your old rival House - Gryffindor.

If I don't see you there tonight, I'm sure we'll be running into each other at Hogsbridge if not before. Please don't hesitate to call on me should you ever need any help.

Take care, Hermione.

Draco wasn't entirely sure what to make of that invitation. He certainly was not up to mixing with a group of Gryffindors and friends of Gryffindors at this early stage. The thought of mixing with them even in the future felt strange to him. Gryffindors were not like Slytherins. They were affectionate, hot-headed and transparent. He didn't understand them. He was used to the strong alliances, cool temprement and cunning of the Slytherins. As a Slytherin, he wasn't sure that Hermione's invitation did not have a hidden agenda. From a Slytherin, it certainly would have. On the other hand, hidden agendas were not the Gryffindor way.

He shook his head. He didn't have the mental space to deal with these problems now. There would be enough time for it all later. He pushed the parchment away and put the tray back on his lap. The food was cold now and he went off the idea of finishing it.

He pushed the tray away again and climbed out of the massive bed. He pulled fresh robes from the wardrobe and with a sigh, went into the bathroom while Dobby tutted over the state of the bed and began to remove the sheets with a simple spell.