Chapter 6

It had been one year, ten months, one weeks, and five days since he started down the path set down before him by his family. It had been one year, two months, and three days since he began running from it. He ran from the Death Eaters chased him around the globe, eventually making it harder for them to track him, even using magic.

In the beginning, it took them maybe three days to catch up to him. He had even used muggle transportation a few times, but still they discovered his locations with ease. For his seventeenth birthday, his mother and father had given him a charmed pendant that would warn him of any impending danger. His third stop was when he found an ancient variation of the Find Me spell, one he doubted many people knew nowadays.

Not soon enough he abandoned it on a muggle ferry in the middel of Quebec. That should keep them scrambling for a little while, he thought at the time. But still, it wasn't enough to keep the Dark Lord's lackeys off him for long. He would have two or three worry-free weeks before they found him, and another week of planning an escape before they were on top of him. The last straw came in a marketplace in eastern Brazil. As soon as Draco laid eyes on McNair and his hounds, he took his second trip aboard an airplane. There was only one person he knew of that could help him, but only she knew if she would. So back to Britain he headed.

His first stop was Gringotts, to move the money that was left in his account to a different one. His father set up the current account, and therefore, Lucius could claim it after several moths of paperwork with the Ministry and the goblins. Once it was protected, Draco made his way through the crowds of shopping students to the Apparation point in the Alley. Soon he was walking up the path to Hogwarts, a path he had walked many times before as a student. He found the giant doors to the castle open. Walking thought them, he once again felt like a little first year out to prove he belonged in such a place. The castle once again held his fate in its very stones.

He hadn't returned to the castle since that fatefull night a little over a year ago. He had takeing his NEWTs by use of a private tutor, the way his father had wanted for the past several years. Returning was much hadrer than he htought it would be. The moonlit silohuitte of the Astronomy tower haunted him as he walked through the halls to the Headmistress's office. Having been a prefect in his school days, (and a Slytherin) he knew its location, but it was the fact that the large griffin moved to the side as he neared that was slightly unnerving. It was if he was expected.

"Ah Mister Malfoy. How can I help you young man?" The warmth with which Minerva McGonagall welcomed him was surprising. "Please, have a seat. I believe the house-elves will be bringing up a tray of sandwiched in a bit. Ah, help yourself," she said, motioning to the platter that appeared on her desk.

"Thank you professor," the blonde said, taking a seat. "I am umm, in need of some… assistance," Draco began, but he discovered that he did not quite know how or where to begin.

After Draco's long pause, McGonagall gently said, "when in doubt, the beginning is generally a good place to start."

"He's a madman, twisted with thoughts of revenge," Draco stated. "His idea of training his servants is the have them massacre a group of schoolchildren not older than 13. What kind of person plans things like that for months on end?" She listened, smiling sadly as he continued. "I couldn't stand it. So I left," he simply stated. "I've been on the run for more than a year, with him never more than a few weeks behind me. Death Eaters tracked me everywhere, even when I resorted to Muggle transportation. I can't run forever, even I know that. I was hoping there was some way I could stay here, perhaps as an assistant to a teacher."

"You have to understand Draco that were you to stay here, you would not be allowed out of the castle without supervision, it would be too dangerous. You would be confined within theses walls. That is the only way I could even partially guarantee your safety."

"I understand," Draco replied.

"Well if I recall correctly, you had very good NEWT scores in most of your subjects. Any idea which field you would do best in?"

"I was thinking of Potions, Ma'am."

"Excellent choice, as I believe Professor Slughorn is in the market for an assistant. I don't think he could object to a fellow Slytherin. He's probably working on lesson plans as we speak, let see what he thinks of the idea. " Professor McGonagall stood up and moved to the fireplace where she tossed in a bit of Floo Powder and said clearly, "Horace Slughorn's Potions Lab," and conversed quickly with its occupant.

Sitting back down at the desk, the Headmistress motioned to Draco's teacup. "More tea? Horace should be joining us in a few minutes. Please, have a bit to eat while we wait."

Sure enough, in a few minutes, they were joined by the Head pf Slytherin. At first he was surprised at Draco's wish to join the staff, but he warmed up quite nicely as it soon came apparent that if he did not accept him, Draco would be turned over to Lord Voldemort for a traitor's trial as soon as he stepped foot off the grounds. Not long after, the deal was sealed. Draco was officially the first Potions Assistant that Hogwarts had seen in almost twenty years.

Draco was given quarters in the dungeons, close to the Potions masters own. The term was to begin in two weeks, so Draco spent his days preparing ingredients for the school year and brewing most of the potions that Madame Pomfry required for the year.

While he would not be teaching any classes in the first part of the year, Slughorn was considering giving Draco control of the younger classes in the spring.

When the term began, Draco was still brewing potions for the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfry kept a well-stocked cabinet for the school. On one of the first days of classes, Madame Pomfrey requested a jar of Vedidinus balm for a clumsy first year that had just had his first flying lesson. Of course, the jars Draco needed were on the top shelf of the storage room in the Potions classroom, and because of the items stored there, magic was not allowed. He had to climb up to reach them. Fate being the fickle fiend that it is, the jars came down, one his head and the other two on the ground close to him. While the numbness wore off by the next day, the smell lingered. For almost three days after Draco walked around smelling like menthol and eucalyptus.

By the end of the second week of the term, Draco had been cooped up in the castle for almost a month. He needed to get out, if only for a few hours. He still had some money left over from his trip to Gringotts and a glamour spell he had been perfecting since the beginning of summer. Hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, Draco made his way out of the castle and towards Hogsmeade. Once his glamour was in place, he stepped into the Hog's Head. Fire whisky seemed the perfect cure for the growing headache that was sitting right behind his eyes. The next morning, Draco couldn't recall how many drinks he had downed, nor did he remember making it back to the castle before the alcohol drastically affected his magic. What little he did remember was limited to stumbling into the castle and being helped to his quarters by none other than Ginny Weasley. His only coherent thought as she helped him to his bed hed been that he could get lost in her beautiful brown eyes.

The next morning he had a hangover from hell and skipped breakfast to brew the remedy. There would be no more middle of the night excursions to go get drunk he knew, unless he wished to be caught. And that was never good.

The days flew by much faster than Draco remembered from when he was in school. The first Quidditch match of the season rolled around and Draco was again itching to get outside the castle walls. This would be a perfectly safe chance to. It was Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, not a game he was really interested in, by hey, he wasn't going to be picky.

Once again, the youngest Weasley strutted her stuff, flying like she was born on a broom.she flew up and down the field, almost always with the Quaffle in her hands, on her way to score again. Being a Chaser was definitely what she was good at. A smile crept upon his face as he remembered the last game he had seen her in, playing seeker opposite Cho Chang. Potter had been in a rightfully earned detention with Snape. She had managed to grab the golden ball a moment before her opponent did, winning game and Cup for her house. For all her flying, she hadn't seemed too confident as a seeker; she was almost hesitant to drop in after the little Snitch, but of course, that wasn't enough to stop her.

Soon Halloween was almost upon them. McGonagall announced the pickin

g up of an old school tradition some weeks ago, of masked balls. The first of these would be on Halloween. As the day came closer, the Headmistress went into a littlem ore detail on it. Students were invited to dress as characters from history, muggle or wizard. It would begin at seven, an hour after the feast. It was open to third years and above, and would end at midnight. There would be a harmless variant Disillusion charm on the hall for the night, for those who wished for anonymity with their dance partners. All of these dances would have such a charm, and it would not affect life outside the balls, but would not be broken until the end of the last one of the year, in May. In the halls, Draco heard many of the girls cooing about how romantic they thought it would me. Romantic was not exactly the word he would have picked. Annoying and pointless was more like it. As a staff member, he was required to chaperone these festivities. And dress with as the rest of the school.

At first he thought me may be able to get out of it, on the account that he had no costume and no way to get one. But the week before the ball, Professor Slughorn knocked on his door after dinner with a hanging garment bag.

"Since you are not able to procure your own costume, Minerva asked me to find one for you," he told Draco. "Now ddon't look so worried, Madame Napier had a ide variaty and it wasn't had to find something to suit you. Just return it to me sometime next week, but hold onto the mask until May."

"Thank you Professor," Draco replied, so used to the formalities he used as a student.

"Don't worry about it my boy, goodnight."

Taking the bag to his bed, Draco opened it to reveal an 18th century ensemble, complete with a top hat and cape. Both black of course, with a velvet doublet in black with hunter green piping at the seams and edges. The pants were black, designed like the dress slacks that were hanging in his closet, but still slightly different in how they hung and fastened. A separate bag hung from the hanger, with the mask inside it. It was black, porcelain, he thought, lined with silver. It had no strings; a simple spell would keep it in place. If nothing else it would be nice to have a night were he could forget who he was and perhaps live a little.