Escape From Malfoy Manor
Prologue
It was odd, reflected Draco Malfoy, to feel like a stranger in one's own house. The rubble of the old familiar furniture was scattered about the room, and shards of glass from the chandelier crunched under his feet. Draco's robes swirled around his legs, and he kept one hand on his wand, half expecting his aunt Bellatrix to leap from the gloom and attack him. His feet moved automatically toward the stairs, and he climbed up to the second floor, where his room was the second door on the right.
The door was slightly ajar and he touched it lightly, just enough to make it swing silently and slowly open. Alone out of all the rooms he had seen so far, his own bedroom was untouched. His bed was made, the Slytherin banners on the walls hung in their proper places, and all his things were right where he had left them. Mechanically, he crossed the room to the dresser, and slid his finger over it. His eyes betrayed no emotion as he followed the trail his finger had left in the layer of dust. Suddenly, though, his gray eyes teared up, and he sat on his bed and sobbed for a moment for everything he had lost.