a/n: word to the wise… when cutting firewood try not to cut tip if thumb off… thank god for public health care.

Chapt. 3

"Montague's just been found in a toilet, Sir."

-Draco Malfoy

Order of the Phoenix

There's several things in my life that I've done wrong. Well, probably a hell of a lot more but I only count 4 of them.

1. Propositioning the Boy Who Lived to be his friend or foe.

2. Pissing off that hippogriff and the old man I consider still a hippogriff.

3. Stupid enough to get 'Betrothed' to Pansy Parkinson.

4. Trying to kill Dumbledore and failing in cowardice.

Like I mentioned there's probably a lot more. More than likely there will be more to add as well.

Such as allowing myself to get kicked off of what I considered my territorial marking.

Territorial Pissing… that's what I should've done… ex- Professor Lupin probably could've given me some pointers.

It's perhaps the one thing that I should've made sure that I fought for. The right to live even if it means to degrade myself to beg from others… the people I've always considered my inferiors.

The rather poetical justice of my life. I know that it seems too trivial to be something that Draco Malfoy the Slytherin Pureblood would divulge in.

I really don't know what to do. There are so many things royally fucked with me.

But the true irony of my life is the fact that I'm going from 'Money' to begging on the street.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know whether or not to be ashamed of myself or to be disgusted at these things who call themselves 'human beings'. So far as I can tell they are not human beings but rather some useless, heartless biological vertebrates that have no moral ethical values.

"Why don't don't you go get a job." Oh that disdain.

I would you fuckface but YOU seem to have a problem in giving me one.

"Should've stayed in school."

Oh, and be killed or thrown into a prison that seems to mock the already doomed. Having the life sucked out of me, even if there is no Dementor's there anymore. I don't care; I am not going to have my body rotting in a prison for vagrants.

I know I shouldn't sound as if being a vagrant is beneath me. In fact nearly all of my forefathers were probably vagrants. The only thing is is that they did it with style. That's something that not some common thief has.

However today, the 9th day of my impoverished livelihood I have tried to better myself in a world that I only hold revulsion for. Only to have it thrown back into my face. If this were the Wizarding world I would have them suffer the most horrendous duration of the Malfoy wrath for such humiliation.

Yet no, I have such privileged.

Instead I have a 'full of holes' sleeping back and winter gloves whose fingers I have long bitten off along with the filthy nails I had grown accustomed to.

It was at a food stand I was given the refusal. The fact that a man whose filth raised questions even in my mind is where I am most indignant. The way I didn't get one word in and the man says,

"No, we don't need any help."

Then he has the audacity to turn back as if I am not there.

If I had a wand I would've taken a line out of Potter's book and thrown a near deadly curse at him.

Alas, no such thing was possible so I turned around and walked away.

To be honest I never thought that I would give into defeat like I have.

Yet, I tried. I tried and I failed and everything that my parents taught has been proven wrong that if you try then you achieve your dreams.

The burning sensation that prickles in the back of my eyes can no longer allow me to deny.

I tried and I failed.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So how much are you?" The man is greasy and big. It reminds me of a miniature Hagrid. The shudder that goes through me is barely visible in the dark.

"I'm not for sale." I feel proud in saying this, despite the fact that my stomach feels as though it could either cave or explode as a volcano.

The man nods his head.

"So who are?" I'm a little taken back that this man doesn't seem to mind that I'm not going to do it. Then again I'm probably not much to look at.

I nod over to the other side of the alley wall. We call him Spinney and he's hyperactive but with a drug problem. He does men so long as they give him something to ease the pain. He's explained this to me a couple of times trying to say that it doesn't mean he's a fag. I always tell him that it doesn't matter if he is or he isn't. But for some reason his sallow caved in face needs more than that.

I hate it out here.

I hate the way it is.

I hate the fact that the tears still fall and my heart still tries to break despite my insistence that it doesn't.

I hate the thought of giving up and allowing myself to become weak and pathetic.

So I make promises to myself every time I find myself just wandering around. That I'll make it through no matter what, that I'll be Draco Malfoy once again.

A/N: 15 chapters of this story. And the main reason for this story is to think of a way for Malfoy to live until he is caught. I won't give away anymore than that