Disclaimers always apply. So piss off all those that wish to sue me, for I own the dark mark and will hex those that stand in my way.

DEDICATION: LonelyNoMore this is for you, for reviewing my one-shots and writing such lovely things. This is also to everybody who reads this story, you rock my Slytherin socks off.

"Potter you fucking arse wipe!" Draco screamed as he struggled like a fish out of water against my hold, as I ungracefully hoarded him back to the place I lived. He looked so like the person I used to know, even through the dirty clothes and hair and it made me wonder, at some reckless point, what had changed and more importantly why had it changed. My remorse for Draco vanished as the things I ached to see in him, the little bit of my past that was as alive as my present, returned full force.

"Silence, please…" I requested, my keys in the left hand and Draco in the right. The blonde's hands were tied behind his back, unnecessary unless you count the avid attempts to run away, to be let loose like a caged animal.

Draco went quiet, all his resolve broken and I guessed taking orders was just part of his nature now, so unjust but there you go; time changes even the smallest of things. Except me, I don't change I simply rearrange for the better of humanity. Once inside the vast elegance (not chosen by me, nor pieced together by me. Many a decorator had set up this wonderful mansion for me. Not by me.) of my wonderful abode, I thrust Draco down in a chair, my hand hurting severely at the torrent of anger masked by the wriggling Draco had succumbed to during our journey, and in some part of my mind the image of a million taunts towards me flashed through; it was a meagre attempt to get back at Draco.

I stood in front of the glaring masterpiece; a delicate picture of what time, age and failure brings. All grey and dirty blonde, an image only I would have thought in simple distaste towards him, but now he was here so broken and bullied in front of me it didn't seem so funny, satisfying or nice.

"Go on then, kill me…" He whispered, a torn reminder of how I once felt, at the peak of the war. His face a downcast symbol of pure resignation.

"Accio jeans, Accio shirt, Accio socks…" the list went on, I am sure you can guess what else was needed. Once all items were securely in my hand, I threw them onto the slouching figure in front of me, who looked in amazement towards the bundle on his lap, "Put them on."

"If you haven't noticed, Potter, my hands are tied." Surely I had forgotten, however a wave of my hand remedied that and I was sure he muttered thanks, before standing to relieve himself of the horrid items of rags he already wore. To save us both embarrassment I turned around, however it wasn't before I noticed small scars littering his body.

"Wow Potter has some taste…" He drawled over the shuffling sounds coming from his direction. Indeed, it wasn't me who had taste, just someone I hired to deal with my image as I was always in the public eye, even more so after the war.

"Are you finished?" I muttered a minute later, my curiosity to see how he scrubbed up after a few fashionable, albeit comfortable too, clothes.

"No…" He whined, sounding truly desperate, like a child who is trying to accomplish something but who fails miserably. It was a heartbreaking mewl, and I turned around to help.

Upon my eyes falling flaccidly on Draco, I noticed his hands fumbling like Ron with a chocolate wrapper, on the button and clasp of the jeans. To say he looked remarkable would be an understatement, and that little nagging curiosity of boys on boys got me going momentarily. His eyes locked with mine and I forgot all about whatever dirty little things were running through me, before pushing back the boundaries once more and moving to help the little boy- grown man before me.

Tenderly I pushed his hands away, only for him to lay his hands over mine, as I pushed the button through its hole and adjusted the jeans on his hips so they fell like they should. Wherever I learned to do that I wouldn't know, however now was not the time to think of such thinks.

Before my mind had thought through the words, my mouth had opened to speak them. "You can go now…" I shuddered as he looked helpless, as if to say something against the idea, but I could see the internal battle as if he really wasn't sure if I had meant what he thought I had.

"But… I cant…" He sat down in a flop, "You own me."

"And I have no use for you, so you may go…" I spoke harshly, bending down in front of him to give him a sense of authority. "Whatever you have done to land yourself in this mess, whatever you have done after you landed yourself in it I do not care okay? I saved you because I am Gryffindor, because I am courageous and just. Please now, go…"

"You don't understand," He mewled again, and in that moment he reminded me of a timid kitten; something to hold and stroke and touch with love. "I cannot leave. I am bound to slavery…" He looked frozen for a moment before moving his features once again.

"Then I shall sell you off to someone else." I stated, not knowing why I would want to do such a thing. Honestly my house was big enough for ten or fifteen people, so for just this one little thing to huddle in a corner and possible clean the house now and again wouldn't be too bad would it? I can see you shaking your head now, because no it wouldn't, but then again you wouldn't have to deal with Ron and Hermione bitching about Draco day in and day out until you got rid of him.

I shouldn't care, but I did, until all that anxiousness over something so little washed away with a look of complete fear in the blonde's eyes, which was replaced with sadness, just sadness.

And looking back on it now, I wish he had told me that he would be bound to slavery until true love bound him to another person. Maybe then I wouldn't have fought away the feelings, when I could have given so much more than a bed, some clothes and a chance at life so very different from what he had ever experienced before.

XaXaXa

This story is back. I'm an idiot. The story has changed directions. But I promise, it will be worth a read.

I am sorry for neglecting it in the first place, a silly little thing to do I suppose. However it will be finished! For those that read 'The brass beneath' and its sequel I have momentarily lost interest in that story as the summery rays which laid upon it have been covered with snow (I suffer from S.A.D) and I need a little happy inspiration to fulfil the story. Reviewing might help (I'm shameless. I know)

Thank you,

Ashes of the most tragic Stars