Disclaimer: Nope, don't own it. You can't make me say I own it! I don't want to be sued! I own the plot, nothing more. Actually I don't even own the whole plot, as I borrowed Hogwarts and all that. I promise, I'm only borrowing it! I can't steal something like this off J.K. Rowling, it would cost WAY too much money.

I just wish she hadn't killed Sirius! So drool worthy…

'thoughts'

"speech"

Aranel

Chapter 1

"Draco!" A shout resonated through the house. Draco sighed. He had been wondering when his father would return home from his latest jaunt. It was time for the infamous lecture; the one Draco had every time he returned home from Hogwarts. This time though, he knew it was going to be a lot longer, and a lot more boring. He closed the book he was reading, and headed slowly down the 3 flights of stairs to his father's study. Lucius shut the door with a quick wave of his wand, and motioned for Draco to sit down. Draco sat down carefully, trying not to ask his father why he insisted on making his study look like a morgue.

"Do you have any idea why I have called you down here?" Lucius asked, his teeth clenched, eyes blazing.

Draco pretended to ponder for a moment. "Because you want to tell me how amazingly wonderful, good-looking, and just generally awesome I am?" Draco said, taking a wild stab at the question. He was amused to see his father turn a bright shade of red, as Malfoy's are generally very pale, as a rule.

"No, that is not why I have asked you here," his father said, keeping astonishing control on his anger. "Are you aware that this is the 6th year you've had that mudblood-" he spat out the word in disgust- "top you in every subject?"

Draco laughed harshly. "Oh father, I've told you so many times. Granger is smart, okay? Me? I'm just a death eaters son…" Draco said. "Yes, and being a death eater's son is a wonderful way to get friends…" he added quietly, so his father wouldn't hear.

"I am ashamed to call you my son! My Lord, please, it is not my fault the boy isn't capable!"

Draco spun around as he heard The Dark Lord's unmistakable voice. "No Lucius, I do not hold you responsible. His mother- fool that she is- Showed him too much love as a boy… No matter…" Voldemort raised his wand. "Crucio!" he hissed, and Draco was on the floor, writhing in pain. 'I must not call out,' he thought. I mustn't make a sound. The urgency of the thought alone kept Draco silent, though in agony.

"Keeping silent, Draco? Crucio!" he said, though louder this time. Draco's head reeled. He couldn't have screamed now, even if he wanted to.

The room went blurry, and Draco collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

(A/N: Poor Draco! sniff sniff I hate hurting the characters I love for the sake of stories, and Draco's so damn hot! Oh well, for the good of the story…)

Draco woke up in his bedroom that night to find that his whole body was pins and needles. He winced- pins and needles can hurt you know. Stumbling towards his closet, one thought penetrated through the fog. 'I must get out of here.' After taking a few deep breaths, he could think clearer. Waving his wand, he packed all his clothes and school robes neatly into his still open trunk. Draco never wore robes outside of school. He spent most of his time in muggle clothes.

He walked across to the other side of his room, and picked up a stack of his school books. Placing them carefully into the trunk, he got the rest of his books and stacked them next to the others. He then sat down at his desk, and proceeded to write three separate letters.

To my dear Mother,

I'm sorry, mother, that I couldn't make father proud. You were always proud of me, as long as I did my best, and I always did, for you.

I cannot stay here. I have no desire to join The Dark Lord.

I urge you to leave, too. It will not be safe here for long. Father will blame this on you, you know he will.

Please, get out of here while you can.

I love you.

You know I'll be safe. I'll figure out something. I'm not a Malfoy for nothing.

Your loving son,

Drake

Father,

I have never been good enough for you. I have no desire to turn to evil. One day I will assist in your downfall, and Voldemort's, too. You may have deceived the ministry one time, but you will be caught again, and there wont be anyway out. There is no future for evil.

I was once ignorant, naïve. I used to think you were a hero. How wrong I was.

Draco Malfoy

Voldemort,

You suck. I hate your guts. I could have had a normal life, but you use poor fools like my father; people who want power, and now that's not possible. You've twisted my father, you've frozen his heart.

Know this: I will not be one of your bloody minions.

I will kill you. If I have to ally with Potter to do it, I will. You are filth the world should never have had to see. You think power is everything. It's not.

A baby brought about your downfall. That's power.

Draco Malfoy

Draco smiled savagely as he reread the last. He wanted something for the Dark Lord to remember him by. He placed two of the letters on the table, and whistled for Tiana, the peregrine falcon his mother had given him, back on his first day of Hogwarts.

"Tiana," he said quietly, stroking her soft feathers affectionately. "I need you to take this-" he held up the letter to his mother, "to Mother, okay? Make sure no one else gets their grubby paws on it." She blinked, letting him know he was understood. He tied the parchment carefully to the talon she held out. "Wait until morning. When you've delivered this, come and find me. You'll find me, you always do," he whispered, as he opened the window above his desk. She hopped from his shoulder to the windowsill, waiting for dawn to come.

Draco packed away his quills and parchment, and took his broomstick and guitar down from the top of his shelves.

He pointed his wand at the guitar, and a small stream of gold hit the guitar, transforming it instantly into a small charm he could hang around his neck. Doing so, his gaze fell upon a leather bound book lying on his desk. 'Of course!' he thought, amazed he had forgotten about it. He picked up his journal and placed it underneath his school robes.

He closed the trunk, and enchanted it so it was feather light, then tied it to his new Firebolt. He swung a leg over the broom, and cursed quietly.

Draco, you idiot. If you're going to run away, you need money! He hopped off his broom and went to his bed. He bent down, and pulled a couple of boxes out from under the bed. Inside one was wizarding money, and, in the other, muggle money. Draco wasn't stupid; he had known that muggle money would one day come in handy. He stuffed is pockets with wads of muggle notes, and crammed as many galleons as he possibly could into the front compartment of the trunk.

Stuffing his wand into the back pocket of his jeans, he opened the doors to the verandah, and hopped back onto his broom. Saluting Tiana, he flew out the window and into the cool night air.

Draco looked around as he flew over the muggle town. He wasn't worried someone would see him, it was still dark; he had a few hours of darkness left before dawn. He was, however, curious about the muggle town. He hadn't really paid much attention to the town before; being a Malfoy and all. Now he looked around with curiosity, though not much could be seen, because, as I explained before, it was dark.

Draco landed softly on the sidewalk, and shrunk his broomstick and trunk so it would fit snugly in his pocket. He looked around and spotted a neon sign saying The Pink Flamingo. Draco blanched at the sign, but figured it was better to sleep in a dump than to sleep out on the streets where someone could find him. He opened the door and found a deserted room. The only person in sight was a very fat, ugly man dozing behind the counter.

"Sir," Draco started. The man turned over in his sleep but didn't wake up. "Um…Sir!" Draco said a little louder, to no avail. Draco cursed at his stupidity. 'You fool, you ARE a wizard!' he told himself. Pulling his wand from his pocket he muttered a spell. "Enervate!" he said, and the man's eyes opened unwillingly.

"Whaddayouwant?" He asked, scratching his arse.

Draco struggled with his gag reflex for a few seconds, and regained control of it. "I would like a room for the night."

"Mate, it's 3 o'clock," the man told him. "In the morning," he added pointedly.

"Your point being? I want to sleep, and I don't want to sleep outside."

"Fine. Check out is ten o'clock this mornin'. I'll be askin' your name then, Mr…?"

Draco thought fast. "Drake. My surname is my business, not yours."

"Sorry mate. Can't give you a room without a surname," he said, staring at Draco shrewdly.

"Yes you can," Draco said enticingly and discreetly pushed two fifties over the counter.

He looked at the money, then back at Draco. Snatching up the money, he got up off his chair and took a ring of keys off his belt. "Right this way, Mr Smith."

(A/N: I love the way everyone always calls people who don't want to tell people their name Mr Smith! It's just…so predictable! Anyway, I'll continue with the story.)

Draco was let into the room, and a very happy motel owner left the teenager alone. Draco lay down on the bed, and fell asleep instantly, his body had been pushed to its limits by the Cruciatius curse.

Draco sat on a seat at a nearby café, head in his hands.

'I have no idea to go. The only place father won't find me is in a wizarding family's care, and the only wizarding families I know are supporters of Voldemort, and would hand me straight back to father.'

Draco sighed and got up to pay the tab. He left the café, and was about to head down the street, when…

"There he is! Get him!"

Draco glanced behind him and saw his father and Bellatrix standing on the sidewalk a few hundred metres down the street.

He didn't stop to think. He just ran like hell.

Draco leant against an alley wall, trying to catch his breath. He had outrun them easily; wizards weren't known for their physical fitness. After all, why would you do something yourself if it could be done by magic?

Looking up at the sky, Draco found it was quickly growing dark once again.

'I need to find somewhere. Tonight,' he thought to himself, then felt an inkling of hope. 'They'd never find me there! But…would they…? I have to try. I can't let them catch me. I can't.'

Mwahahahaha!!!CLIFFHANGER! I'm sorry guys, but I couldn't resist! Please R&R. The sooner you do, the sooner I write more! Well, I'll probably write more anyway, but reviews make it so much more fun! Please? If you do I won't put in any more cliffhangers…for a while.

Aranel