When he woke up there were to things that jumped out at him. One, it was extremely dark out. Two, he was very cold. He was much more concerned with two, because Malfoy manor is always dark-his father likes it that way-but it was always warm. Sitting up his joints all objected loudly, creaking and popping. That couldn't be to good, but after a few more pops he felt much better. He was also quite hungry. His last meal had been breakfast, and that had been a long time ago. Or at least it felt like a long time ago.
He started walking, not seeing any sign that these streets had been full of life when he had last seen them save for a few empty food packets. Even the street lights had gone off. He wondered, vaguely, if this was what Hogwarts would be like. Jumping with life that over passes him, and them when he's finally ready for it, it's gone to bed and taking the light with it. He rather fancied it was.
That was one of his problems. He enjoyed the idea that the world was against him. It gave him some idea that he knew what was going on around him, even if just slightly. What was going on was the world was conspiring against him. It gave him something to live for, because if the entire human populance didn't want him there then dammit, he was going to be there. And that scared him. It scared him so much because that arrogance reminded him of his father.
He didn't want to be that. His father was the reason he hadn't spoken since he was three. He didn't ever want to be what drove his kids to that. Assuming, of course, that he ever had children, which he doubted he would, considering.
Enough thinking like that. He needed warmth and food. Either or, but preferably both. There was a light up ahead, a florescent one. He saw the word "exotic" on the sign and knew he wouldn't be allowed in there. He kept walking, not giving the grungy pub a glance. He hadn't thought ahead. All his money was in galleons, and it's not like he could just go to Gringotts and convert them. So he had no money. To bad it was the end of summer, there was always some free food around the end of July, people taking full advantage of the warm weather. He had come down here before, but he had always know he was going home after. He hadn't planned on staying here this time. But now he knew he would do everything in his power to stop anything making him go home.
He didn't want to stay here. He slowly started walking in the opposite direction, past the pub again. He could find another muggle town, one where someone would feed a hungry boy and give him a place to rest his head. Yeah, a place like that would be good. Except the only place that he had ever heard of like that was heaven. He had heard the man standing on his box telling about all it's glories. From what he said it took to get there, he very much doubted he would ever get to know what "True Peace" felt like. Enough with the self pity. He wanted food. And he'd have to walk for it.
A few hours later, the sun was just starting to peak over the hills, tinting the sky a pale pink. He could see the town a long way back, but he had decided that they weren't likely to feed him, and that if he kept moving it was less likely that anyone would find him and bring him home. Something in the bushes rustled, and he stopped, suddenly alert. A small bird hopped out onto the street, and Draco sighed. He continued walking, but now his pace was a bit quicker than he intended it to be. Stupid bird.
Something very large and very wet hit him on the head. A few more came down. Great, it was raining. Perfect. Huge drops fell quickly, and soon he was soaked through. Trudging on he couldn't help but fall into fits of silent laughter at how stupid he must look, walking down a completely deserted road, looking for all the world like he had just decided to take a swim in full clothing. This was all the birds fault. He knew it.