A/N: Hello people! Your wish has come true at last (ish, anyway)! This is an UPDATE!! Yes, I know, so soon! :-) This isn't a long chapter – well, maybe it is, that's really up to what YOU call long. But I think it's shortER than the other chapters. So thank you to you people who read Author's Notes and here are my replies to the great reviews you guys give me, followed by the – da-da-da-daaa – CHAPTER!!! ;-) By the way, some of you may have noticed that I mentioned my best friend after the last chapter. She is actually reading my story, so I'm saying a big "Hello" to her. She is the best friend I could ask for! ::looks around nervously, in case of any flying books:: Just kidding! :-)

Nella Radcliffe (all 3 reviews): Thanks! What did I think of Kellie? I think she's a kind, funny, cool, generous, mischievous, brave, funny human being. What do you think of her? Please don't fall off the edge of your seat, Nella, that might be painful. And don't you dare burn your hands or I'll email Kellie and get her to go over there and GIVE YOU TIMEOUT! Yes, timeout. ::shivers:: Watch yourself, Nella. And I have all intentions of updating quickly, so yeah! :-) You will find out what's going on in 2 chapter's time. So keep reading. YAY! A person who reads A/Ns! ::hugs:: I did not diss her, I simply stated that she probably wasn't reading my stories, COZ SHE HAS A MUCH MORE ACTIVE SOCIAL LIFE THAN ME!!! ;-) And yes, she crucified me when she read that. :-) But she forgave me because she is a kind, generous, funny, awesome girl. :-)

MuznakhThanks, reviews mean heaps even if not much is said. :-)

Meg: This is update is soon (I think, anyway)

Larthawyn: I'm a very technical person, so yes. :-) I wish I had an unlimited supply of confetti. Maybe I should invest of some. Do you realise my desk now has confetti ALL OVER it? ;-) It was a long chapter? Hmmm, I suppose it was, though it was shorter than "Flight to the Servant". Update! Yay! Argh, more confetti! :-)

NathoneaWell, I'm glad you like it so far, and I hope you like it the rest of the way, too!

Natalie Garner: Woo-hoo! A Author's Note person! ::hugs::

Karana Belle: Alas, the barman and Mortimor are in terrible pain, yes. Yes! Another Author Note reader! Keep going, I'm sure the treatment will work eventually. ;-)

Male-chan: It was short? That's strange. Some other people were saying it was a long chapter. ::looks confused:: Er … can I ask why you wanted to rape him? Why not kiss him? Do you not like him? I got the impression that you did. ::looks even more confused:: I'm glad you think you know where she is. Let's see if you're right! :-)

ZuvalupaHello again! You thought it was long too. Hmmm. How odd…

RebbieA new-comer! ::waves:: Hello Rebbie! Thanks for your review, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :-)

IMPORTANT NOTICE – EVERYONE READ!!!!: Well, so hello there. I have an important announcement, as so many of you asked: YES, the men in blue WERE real policemen, poor Draco is just paranoid now, and he was right: he does have a little heatstroke. Please wear a hat in the sun, because heatstroke is most unpleasant, having suffered it myself. ;-)

Chapter 11: Broomsticks and Revelations

It took an hour for Draco to calm down enough to climb the pipe back down to the ground. After checking that the Death-Eaters-In-Blue were gone, he bowed his head and hurried along the darkening streets toward Janelle's Terrace. Strange name, he thought, as he checked the road signs.

Finally, he saw "Janelle's Terrace" and breathed a sigh of relief. It had started drizzling a few minutes before, and he wanted to get back inside, even if he couldn't stay there.

He headed down the street. Then he stopped as something occurred to him; he didn't know which house was the Darling's.

'Stupid elf,' he muttered, looking at the big, extravagant houses on both sides of the street. It was, he decided, all her fault. She should've told him which house to go to. Instead, though, he was stuck without a clue.

Sighing, Draco did the only logical thing; he walked straight up the garden path of the house on his right and knocked on the door.

A dark-skinned lady answered the door. She was wearing a long, pale blue dress and her dark hair was up in a bun. She was obviously expecting company, and the glare she fixed on Draco proved this theory.

'Yes?' she said irritably. 'We don't take in street urchins.'

Draco found this highly offensive. Him? A Malfoy? A street urchin? He glared at the woman right back.

'Good for you,' he said coldly. It wasn't his fault he looked awful at the moment. 'Actually, I'm looking for someone. I know they live on this street, but I lost the address.'

The woman looked at him impatiently. As she wasn't shutting the door in his face, he took this as a good sign.

'The Darlings?' he asked hopefully. 'Could you tell me which house is theirs?'

'That one,' said the woman, pointing at the house across the street. 'Mind Harold, though, he's ill.'

'Thank you,' Draco replied, injecting a measure of warmth into his voice. The woman shut the door, and Draco walked back down the path. 'Snob,' he muttered.

Then the drizzle turned to proper rain and Draco was soaked though in a minute. Great, he thought angrily, just great.

He kept his head down as he ran across the deserted road and up to a bay window. He peered inside and saw that he was looking into the living room. A pale man was sitting in a recliner, being served by a house-elf. Draco held his breath. Was this Lopps? Would he finally find out where Hermione was? He hoped so, because he was cold, hungry and very wet. Not to mention pissed off.

Draco stood back from the window and tried to decide on his approach? Should he go round the back? In a house like this, security was going to be tight. Maybe he should just knock? And say what?

'Hi, my name's William Myles and I was wondering whether it would be possible to speak to your house-elf, Lopps?'

The woman studied him carefully as he said this. The direct approach never works, Lucius had always said. Which was exactly why Draco thought it was going to.

'Why?' the woman said suspiciously.

'I'd prefer to discuss this with Lopps, ma'am,' Draco said politely but firmly. The woman regarded him another moment, then stood back.

'All right,' she said, 'but make sure you stop on this mat so I can clean you up a bit. You cannot go traipsing around the house like that.'

Draco stepped inside, hardly believing his luck. The house was graciously furnished, with dark wood and cream walls. He stopped on a black mat just inside the door. The woman closed it behind him and took out her wand. Giving it a flick, Draco's clothes were no longer dripping. They were still wet, but he was not going to turn the house into a swimming pool. He did think she could've dried him off properly, but he shrugged mentally and followed her down the hall and through a double set of swinging doors.

A young-looking house-elf was washing at a low sink. He was wearing a dark blue tea towel and little white shoes. At the sound of their footsteps, he turned around. Draco was right, he did look young; only the normal wrinkles sat on his face, and his blue eyes were bright.

'Lopps?' said Draco carefully. The house-elf, after a glance at his mistress, nodded. Draco nearly collapsed with relief. Instead, he grinned at the elf. Then he turned to Mrs Darling. 'May I speak to him in private?'

Mrs Darling shook her head. 'I'm afraid not. I shall be present, but please, talk to my elf freely.'

'Right,' said Draco, turning back to Lopps. How was he going to talk to him in front of this woman? 'Lopps,' he said slowly, gauging his reactions. 'I'm William Myles –' (he was not going to use his real name in front of wizards) '– and I've just come from seeing Flipsy. She told me to come to you.'

Did Lopps suddenly look both fearful and defiant?

'Someone I know has gone missing.' That's better, he thought. 'And after some investigating, apparently the person I need to see is you.'

'Lopps?' said Mrs Darling suddenly. 'What's this?'

'I is not knowing, Miss,' said Lopps, his eyes glancing from Draco to his mistress. 'I is never seeing William Myles before.'

'I know you haven't!' said Draco impatiently. He was not going to sit around and play games. 'But you have seen Hermione Granger, haven't you?'

There was a definite change in Lopps this time. His eye twitched and he jerked like someone had put a hot barb to his skin. Draco smirked.

'Granger?' said Mrs Darling. 'Isn't she the one from the paper?'

'Yes,' said Draco, not turning around. Suddenly, he realised what she said. The paper … then why hadn't she recognised him from his picture? Then he suddenly caught his reflection in the shiny metal of the fridge. His hair was scruffy and un-brushed, he was covered in mud, from the dirt he'd landed in at the Travers' mixed with the rain, he still had the scratches and bruises from the Erklings, and his wrist was bandaged to keep the sprain in check. No wonder she didn't recognise me: even I wouldn't recognise me!

He decided not to push his luck, though, and didn't turn around. Instead, he continued to address Lopps.

'Where is she, Lopps?' Draco said. 'What's going on and where is she?'

'Lopps isn't knowing,' said Lopps, trembling.

'Don't lie to me, Lopps! Flipsy told me that you know! Now I want to know!' Draco was almost yelling by this time. He was angry, frustrated and impatient. 'Tell me what you know!'

'I is –' Lopps began, but –

'Lopps, I order you to tell the boy what you know,' Mrs Darling said promptly. Draco had the feeling she just wanted to get this crazy kid out of her house, but he still felt grateful to her.

Lopps took his ears in his hands and twisted them feverishly.

'I is forbidden to tell everything,' he said quietly. 'But I is knowing where Hermy is.'

'Where?' Draco demanded, kneeling in front of Lopps. 'Where is she?'

Lopps leant forward, his large eyes darting around the room as he did so.

'She is at Oceanbreeze,' he whispered, then squeaked and pulled his ears over his eyes, trembling from head to foot.

'Oceanbreeze?' Draco repeated blankly. That name rang a bell, but why? 'What's Oceanbreeze?'

'I is not telling!' squeaked Lopps from behind his ears. 'I is not telling William Myles!'

Then he sat down, hard, on the floor. Draco blinked. Then he sighed and stood up.

'Lopps,' began Mrs Darling, but Draco interrupted.

'It's OK,' he said, 'I think that's all I'll get out of him. Thanks ma'am.'

'That's all right,' she said, 'Come on, I'll show you out.'

She turned and led him out of the kitchen and back down the hallway. Draco shot one more look at Lopps before leaving. As he passed the living room doorway, he glanced inside. The pale man was now asleep in the recliner.

'Harold,' said Mrs Darling, making Draco jump. 'He's been ill for weeks.'

Draco turned around. Mrs Darling was holding the door open and smiling slightly at him. The rain pelted down behind her, looking very uninviting.

'I hope Lopps was of help to you. I think it's awful that Malfoy has done such a thing. That whole family is bad news.'

Draco glared at her, furious.

'The whole family is not bad news,' he said hotly. 'And Malfoy didn't do it either: that I know for a fact.'

Mrs Darling looked at him shrewdly, then looked out at the rain.

'Where are you sleeping tonight, Mr Myles?' she asked suddenly, looking back at him.

Draco was taken aback. He hadn't thought about it because there was nothing to think about. He had turned into a street kid and hadn't worried about his sleeping arrangements at all that day. The moment this thought struck him, he felt shocked. The dark-skinned lady across the road had called him a "street urchin". Had he really become one?

Not in only a few days, said that helpful little voice. It would take much longer than that to turn a Malfoy into a street urchin.

Suddenly, he looked back up at Mrs Darling, falling out of his thoughts.

'Out there,' he said, gesturing to the rain with a gulp. 'Somewhere.'

She looked at him pityingly. Then she glanced around and seemed to make her mind up about something.

'Would you like to stay here?' she said kindly.

'What?' said Draco stupidly.

'Would you like to stay the night?' Mrs Darling repeated. 'We have a spare bedroom which I think you'd find most comfortable.'

'But – you've only known me for a few minutes!' he protested. He felt this woman should know what she was getting into.

'We always let homeless children and teenagers stay,' she said, 'This house is rather big for just Harold and I. We like helping others. And you seem in need for help. You are a wizard?'

'Yes,' said Draco, his mind running to keep up. Was he going to sleep in a nice, warm bed and have a shower?

'Then you are more than welcome. I haven't talked to a wizard in ages; it would be a nice change.'

Draco thought this over. The possibility of a warm bed and a hot shower were overpowering, especially as he was chilled to the bone from his clothes. But what if this was a trap? What if she did recognise him, and hadn't wanted to let on because she wanted to Floo the Ministry?

'All right,' said his voice suddenly. It was almost as if his mind had a voice of its own, one he couldn't control. 'If you'll have me here, it would be preferable to the rain.'

So that was how, twenty minutes later, Draco was standing in a cream room with fluffy blue carpet and double bed, a new set of clothes slung over the back of a mahogany chair, a towel sitting on the chair, and a tray of hot food sitting on the small dressing table by the door.

Mrs Darling had left him there with instructions on how to use the shower and to eat as much food would suit him; the tray would keep refilling itself.

Sighing with happiness, Draco went into the bathroom to find another towel and a pair of dark green pants, which he presumed were for him to sleep in. Not exactly what he was accustomed to, but he wasn't going to complain. How far he'd come in a few days.

He turned on the shower and let the hot water steam up the bathroom a bit before stripping off his clothes and stepping under the hot spray of water. He closed his eyes as the water ran over his head and face and down his healing back and chest. Yet as his body was in heaven, his mind was still clouded with worry and annoyance. He had the distinct feeling he was running out of time, but he didn't know how he knew, or what would happen if that fear was realized.

A few minutes later Draco stepped out of the shower and into the pyjama pants. He dried himself off as much as possible, but his hair was still damp. He felt much more like a Malfoy. And he was so tired … he'd slept heavily the night before, but a drink-induced sleep isn't exactly restful.

So he went back into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed with the tray and ate all he could – which was surprisingly little. Lopps had given him so much to think about, and yet he had given him nothing at all. What was 'Oceanbreeze', and why did Draco recognise it?

He put the tray back on the dressing table and crawled into the bed, still thinking. Was he any closer to finding Hermione? What would happen to him if he went back to Hogwarts without her? He knew exactly what would happen, and he didn't like the sound of it. He wondered –

When he woke up, everything seemed to have clicked into place. It was so obvious. It was still dark in his room, but Draco had never felt more awake. He lay thinking about his conclusion for a moment or two, then jumped out of bed and pulled the pants off. He strode across the room and pulled on the clean set of clothes, then grabbed his now-dry pack and stuffed a heap of food from the ever-plentiful tray into it, along with a replenished supply of water. He then grabbed a piece of parchment and quill from one of the drawers in the dressing table, and wrote a hurried note:

Mrs Darling,

Thank you so much for your hospitality, it's been wonderful. I'm sorry I couldn't stay until morning, but I've had a brainwave and can't wait a moment longer to leave. I'm very sorry about taking the broomstick, but I swear I'll give it back to you once this is all over.

Thanks again,

William Myles

He had almost written 'Draco Malfoy', but had thankfully remembered in time.

Draco opened his door warily, then, seeing the cost was clear, hurried along the hall and down the stairs out into the front hall. He trod carefully, in case Harold was still in his recliner. He grabbed a Nimbus Two-thousand from an umbrella stand by the front door. Then he unlocked the door, stepped outside, pulled it closed and muttered 'Colloportus.' After hearing the click, Draco ran down the wet garden path, thanking Merlin that the rain had stopped. Checking his watch, he saw that it was just before six o'clock. He wondered how early early-morning joggers started. Then he wondered why he was wondering that.

He began his short journey back into the heart of Waven, made psychologically easier by the fact he was clean and well-fed. He encountered only a cat that followed him for several blocks. Then he was in the busier part of town and the cat disappeared.

He would have loved to just jump on the broomstick and take off, but he needed to know where he was going. After all, he hadn't been there since he was eight.

He found the tourist shop very quickly, but had to wait an hour for it to open. He sat on the steps to the building and grinned to himself, running over his brilliant theory. When he got tired of that, he watched the early-morning joggers and business people going about their day much earlier than was warranted. Why did people want to jog in the morning? The morning was for sleeping. Unless you've had an ingenious brainwave, he reminded himself with a smirk.

As this thought graced him, he heard a clicking sound and a door behind him was opened. Turning around, Draco saw a man had just opened the glass door to the Tourist Information Centre. He was middle-aged and balding, but he had a friendly smile and bright green eyes. For some reason, Draco was reminded of Harry. With a slight pang, he wondered briefly how he and the Weasel were coping without their brain.

'Aren't you up a little early?' said the man brightly.

'No,' said Draco shortly, standing up and stretching. He followed the man inside and was greeted by the sight of many coloured brochures and tables of souvenirs.

'What can I help you with this morning, then?' said the man cheerfully, taking his place behind the counter.

'I'd like a map,' Draco said instantly. 'To Evelyn Port.'

'Evelyn Port,' muttered the man, as he dug through a pile of maps on the counter next to him. 'Here we are!' He pulled a map out with a flourish and handed it to Draco. 'Marked on it are the tourist attractions and hotels. I hope you find it helpful.'

Draco, who was looking at the map, grinned. 'I think I will,' he said brightly, then pulled out a couple of notes of Muggle money. The man handled the transaction, and Draco was quickly back out on the street.

He shoved the map into his backpack and looked around. Many people were out and about now, walking dogs, going to work, still jogging… then someone caught his eyes.

He was standing across the street from Draco, and was definitely looking in his direction. Draco squinted to make out the man's face. His eyes were gold and had a strange pupil, like that of a bird. He smirked and nodded his head a little in Draco's direction, who felt the instant jolt of suspicion and fear. Then the strange man was joined by someone else – Travers!

Travers saw Draco and smirked also. The men muttered to each other, while Travers raised his hand in a mock wave. Draco turned around so they couldn't see his face and swore quietly. Great. More Death Eaters. That was all he needed.

Draco turned and, clutching his broomstick, walked quickly down the street that ran alongside the Tourist Information Centre. He knew now he was being followed. The feeling he'd gotten from the Death Eaters – the strange one wasn't there to see Travers on a social visit, Draco was sure of it.

Breaking into a run, Draco rounded the next street and was soon crouching behind a large tree. There were still clouds, which would give him good cover, even if they would make him a bit wet. He peered out to see whether anyone was watching, but they didn't appear to be. He hadn't seen the Death Eaters since he'd left the on the main street, but that didn't mean anything. They were trained not to be seen.

Taking a deep breath, Draco climbed onto the broomstick and kicked off. He rose almost vertically, wanting height more than distance. As he rose through the clouds, he shivered, and when he emerged out the other side, his clothes were damp.

'At least they're not soaked,' he muttered to himself, then levelled out his broom. He was hidden from the Muggles below, now. Grinning with more happiness than he'd even felt at the prospect of a shower, he flattened himself onto his broom and sped up, now a white and black blur against grey clouds as he hurtled toward Oceanbreeze and Hermione.

ANOTHER IMPORTANT NOTICE: Stay tuned because the end is drawing nearer! 3 Chapters to go! Next Chapter: Harry, Ron and Ginny make a discovery of their own; er… we see the Death Eaters again! More of a filler/explaining chapter than action, but stuff still happens. It's short, just to keep you drooling for Hermione! ;-) See the girl herself in 2 chapters!!!