A/N: I apologize to everyone for ranting last week about how terrible everything was for me. I'm feeling better now, especially since I've been paid for all those hours I've worked. Money can't by happiness, but It still makes me feel better when I have some.

As far as the numerous request for whatever it was that Draco had, I've talked to my physician, Doctor Feelgood, and he says he has plenty of drugs available. Just make an appointment.

Raziel Tepes wanted to know who Gepetto is. In the story, Pinocchio, he is the woodcarver who makes the puppet. (I know that's not what you meant, but I couldn't help myself.)

And a note to Young Prewitt. The reason for Madam Pomfrey's advice will eventually be explained although it will not hurt the story to mention that her reasons were made moot by Mister Nott's actions as a member of the board of governors. And you're wrong about Hagrid.

Other Miscellaneous comments are as follows. I promise not to start any more arguments about grammar unless I first make sure I know what I'm talking about. Second, In regards to the title of the previous chapter, that is one of the CLASSIC albums of rock, and the closing lines of the title song seemed very appropriate to that chapter: Everything under the sun is in tune but the sun is eclipsed by the moon. Thirdly, Cockney Rhyming Slang can be difficult to follow as the more common usages are not fully used. For example, Radio Rental (for Mental) is also used as follows: He's gone radio. Lastly, thanks for reading and thanks for the reviews.

Chapter 10: Christmas

There was a chill in the air, so Draco snuggled further under the blankets. It was so comfortable and warm he never wanted to get up. A smile swam across his lips and he began to think how long it would take for him to get hungry enough to finally forsake the bed. He would have to get dressed and . . .

No, that was wrong. He was no longer at Hogwarts. He had been thrown out. They had taken him to . . .

Draco was frowning. Dobby had appeared after they had drugged him. He said something. A vague memory of trees formed in his head as though it was something he should remember. Sleep forgotten, he carefully lifted the blankets off his head so that he could look around. The first thing he noticed was that he was wearing a nightshirt, courtesy of his unknown benefactor.

He was in a bedroom. The bed made that obvious, with its side table and a chair in the corner away from the door. The walls were dark wood, with windows on three sides, one window was directly over the headboard. This is the one Draco decided to look out of. Ignoring the chill on his legs as he knelt on the bed, he looked out on a copse of snow-covered trees. The only thing he could tell from the view is that it was winter and he was on either the second or third floor of the house he was in.

As he stepped out of the bed and onto the cold floor, he looked around but did not see any other clothing. Nor did he see any closet or wardrobe. Since he couldn't do anything else, he walked to the door and opened it to reveal a small landing and a staircase leading down. He also felt the warmth that said there was a fire below. That was enough for Draco to continue.

It was as he neared the bottom of the stair he heard the voice.

"Sit by the fireplace. I'll bring the breakfast shortly."

It was a gruff voice coming from a doorway to his right, probably the kitchen. Draco turned to his left, down a short hallway which led to the living area. A large room with a fireplace along the far wall. Across from it was what Draco assumed was the front door. Bookcases filled with more than just books lined the other two walls and a large couch sat in the center of the room facing the fireplace. Two other chairs and small tables with oil lamps completed the decor. There were no paintings or pictures on any of the walls.

Draco chose the chair closest to the fire, stretching his feet out to catch most of the warmth. He felt almost comfortable, except that he did not know where he was or how long he had been there.

CLUNK.

A noise of metal on wood. It sounded again, coming from the kitchen. A few more and Draco was able to place the sound. His host was walking and one of his legs wasn't real. Prepared for that, Draco realized he wasn't prepared at all.

When the man appeared, his first reaction was to shrink back into his chair. He was an old man, by Draco's standards, with long grey hair. That part was normal enough. It looked as though some wild animal had bitten off part of the man's nose as it shredded the man's face, leaving scars everywhere. Not that he noticed it first. The first was that eye. It showed a vivid blue. And it looked directly at him even as the man's natural eye watched where he was walking.

Draco instinctively held his hand up to his own left eye, remembering how many times the previous year he had touched the patch that covered it as it regrew. For a moment, he forgot where he was and rubbed the eye to rid it of remembered pain.

"Here."

Draco took his eyes away from the man and looked at the plate that sat on the table next to him. Eggs and ham. A glass of juice sat next to it.

"T'anks."

The man gave a harsh laugh as Draco sat there. "Did I scare you off your food?"

"Um, no . . . but . . . where am I?"

"Here. Now eat that before it gets cold. Then I'll answer some of your questions and you'll answer all of mine." The man sat on the couch. "Eat."

Draco took the plate and sat it in his lap. With the fork he shoveled the food into his mouth, barely tasting it as he swallowed. Starting with the first bite he felt famished, as though he hadn't eaten properly in weeks. When he finished, he sat the empty plate next to the glass, which he had emptied also.

"What do you remember?" The man asked as soon as Draco was done.

"'bout what?"

"Coming here."

Draco admitted he couldn't remember anything about arriving at the house. He had been drugged. The man said that was good. About not remembering how he arrived. He was smiling at a private joke when Draco dared to ask who he was.

"You called me your father when you arrived."

"Oh."

"Then you started acting strange."

Draco shuddered. "How strange?"

"First thing I did was put you to sleep. That should have put a stop to everything. But right away you started moaning and thrashing about." He paused. "Do you want to know more? About the screaming and shouting as I forced every potion I could find down your throat so your body could get rid of that drug. Nasty bit of poison, whatever it was. Almost killed you anyway."

Draco wasn't sure the man was referring to himself or the drug. But a second question came to mind. "Do ya know who I am?"

"Who doesn't." His smile had an evil glint. "You're Draco Malfoy. Son of the only people who dared to challenge You-Know-Who, and who did it only because they thought they could do better than him. You're the future Dark Lord and Heir of Slytherin who has led three attacks at Hogwarts . . . "

"Two," Draco corrected.

"Three. Two days after you escaped from a muggle insane asylum, you returned to the school and attacked one of your housemates, a first year named Creevey."

"I did?" Draco's voice was dead. The thought that he might actually have done that.

"Of course not," the man sneered. "You were upstairs locked in that room screaming that death couldn't find you while you kept your eyes closed. But the Daily Prophet blamed you anyway." The sneer became a laugh. "You're very convenient."

Draco frowned.

"Congratulations, boy. You're now more popular than your parents ever were."

"An' what 'appens to me now?" There was a distinct touch of anger in his voice which the man found amusing. But the man's smile was sincere when he answered the question.

"I have no idea."

"You're not turnin' me in?"

The man shrugged. "I was planning on it. But you were such a pain I couldn't spare any time and risk losing you. Then the Prophet reported your latest assault by the time I knew you were secure. And that you weren't going to die on me. So I decided to keep my own council and wait until you could talk properly. Did you attack that girl?"

"NO. I was set up."

A smirk. "And who would do that?"

Draco paused. "The Notts, I guess. Don't know how they got the Weasley girl to go along wit' it. She din't seem the type." At the man's urging, Draco described the incident as best he could, including how Ginny Weasley seemed to change her personality as soon as he grabbed her hands.

"She isn't the type," the man said casually. "But there are ways to make people do what you want. And you described one of them very well. Do you know about the unforgivable curses?"

"Professor Black described 'em last year." Draco touched the scar on his forehead as a telling gesture.

"Then you know about the Imperious Curse?"

"They would do that?"

"That, and others." Then man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Now tell me everything that happened from that point until you arrived here."

Despite his misgivings, Draco did exactly that. Whoever this man was, he had rid Draco of the drug, and kept him safe, was keeping him safe. There was only one pause in the telling as the man produced some hot tea, but by the end he knew the entire tale, except for one house elf.

The man nodded when Draco finished. "And now you can tell me the part you left out."

Draco paused. The man had spotted the hole in his story about how he had escaped. "I promised."

"Wizard's oath?"

"Whot?"

The man laughed. "Do you mean to tell me you gave someone your word? And kept it?"

Draco was insulted. "I can be honest, you know."

The man nodded, still grinning. "Fine. Keep your secrets . . . unless you want my help."

"Help?" Draco was surprised. The man was willing to help him. "Why?"

"It's something to do. I've heard the stories about Hogwarts and from what you're telling me there's more to it than just a monster wandering around. And you," he pointed theatrically, "are clearly a problem for them. Why else go through all this trouble just to be rid of you. And it was too well thought out to be a simple spur of the moment idea. Someone wanted to get rid of you. And do it in such a way that it couldn't be linked to magic."

Draco nodded. No one would think that a wizard or witch had anything to do with a drug overdose. Things like that happened all the time in the muggle world. He decided to take a chance.

"'is name's Dobby."

"And where did you meet this Dobby fellow?"

"Um, you know that I been seeing things? And 'earing voices?" The man nodded. "I first saw him out the window on the 'ogwarts Express."

"At King's Cross?"

"No. While the train was movin'." Draco suddenly realized he didn't tell the most important fact about Dobby. "Um, 'e's an 'ouse elf." The man's natural eye seemed to grow as large as his magical one. "'e, uh, 'elps me whenever 'e can, long as it don't conflict with 'is orders."

"Why?"

"'e said 'e was friens wit' me parents."

Stunned was the best way to describe the man's reaction. He was staring at Draco with both eyes. "That is impossible. It has to be a lie."

"Then let me give you the toppin'. 'e's owned by the Notts."

Silence.

More silence.

Finally, a muttered word. "Incredible."

"You believe me?" Draco felt it necessary to ask.

The man didn't answer. He sat there thinking, his magical eye constantly on Draco. That gave the boy time to think. And every thought about what to do ended with a brick wall. He had no place to go. No one to turn to. Except for the man sitting in the room with him.

"Please. I need to know if you believe me. It's important."

"Why?" The question was almost casual.

"Because . . ." Draco's voice broke, ". . . I need . . . help."

"To do what?"

"Don't know." The silence lasted over a minute. "Was tryin' to find out who the Heir was. I was braggin' about 'ow close I was gettin'. All I needed was talk to Moaning Myrtle . . ."

The man interrupted. "You didn't mention Moaning Myrtle."

"She's a ghost. She haunts the girl's bathroom near where they found Filch's cat. I t'ought that whoever did it might have run in there. Ginny Weasley tol' me she was a friend of 'ers. Is that important?"

The man nodded his head thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "It could have been an excuse. Or it could have been the reason. But it gives us a place to start."

"You're gonna 'elp me?!"

"This is too rich a puzzle for me to pass up. And know this. I'm not helping you. You're helping me. Do you understand? When I tell you to do something, you do it. If I have time, I may even explain why."

Draco smirked. "So, what do I do?"

"Ask your own questions for a while. And it's about time I answered one of them. My name is Alastor Moody. And, in case you're interested, I used to be the best Auror in the business. Until I was forced to retire."

"Because of your injuries?"

"No," the man snarled. "Because I refused to believe the lying bastards who claimed they were forced to serve You-Know-Who because of some stupid spell or some other dumb reason." He smiled whimsically. "I became an embarrassment."

Draco smiled as well. That was something he could relate to.

"Could I ask where I am?"

Moody nodded. "Won't get a different answer though. I don't give out that information lightly."

The man answered few of Draco's questions, and the answers were short. In the end he knew little more than he did before. One thing was obvious: The man was suspicious of everyone, not only of the boy who had wandered onto his doorstep. When asked about some of the things on his bookshelves, every one he pointed out was related to spying on someone or keeping them from spying on him. What the sneakoscope was for. The Dark Detector and the Secrecy Sensor. After that he waved his hand and said they all did something or other.

After Draco was done with his questions, Moody stood up, with surprising agility. He told Draco to help himself to the larder if he was still hungry. He was welcome to look at the books but not to touch anything else on the shelves. And he warned Draco to stay indoors, and to stay away from the windows. He would be out for a while.

Draco nodded. "Ya were plannin' on 'elpin' me all along."

Moody gave Draco a truly friendly smile. "You are the bright one. You told me enough in your ravings to let me know something big was up. And I've been too long twiddling my thumbs. If I crack this, I can get them to make me an Auror again. And if I simply hand you over with all of the information, all I'll get is a thank you very much and we'll owl you if we need you." He leaned into Draco. "I'm eager for a fight, boy, and you gave me one. Least I can do is clear your name while I'm at it."

Moody walked over to a pot and grabbed a pinch of powder. Turning to Draco, he said sternly, "Constant Vigilance. Remember that." He threw the powder into the fire, which flared up bright green, and called out, "Diagon Alley." He stepped into the flames and was gone.

Draco went to bed long before Moody finally returned. When he awoke the next morning, there was a new piece of furniture in the bedroom, a wardrobe with a chest of drawers attached. Surprise did not keep Draco from investigating. And that he found clothes was no surprise either, nor that they were all his size. What did was that they were off-the-rack clothes. That meant that Moody had bought them in muggle shops.

It made sense. Everyone must know who the man is. If he went to wizard shops, the questions would start at once. Why would a man who lived alone suddenly need childrens' clothes? Curious as to what else had happened, Draco dressed in jeans and a shirt, socks and trainers, threw on a jumper and went downstairs.

"In here," Moody called from the kitchen as Draco neared the bottom of the stairs. He turned left and walked through the door to find breakfast waiting for him. Ham and eggs, with a glass of juice. There were rolls as well, and a tub of butter. The man was filling his own plate as Draco walked in.

Over breakfast, Moody went over his plans for the day. He was going out again, for more supplies, but also to talk to a few people. The rules were the same as the day before except Draco was to specifically read chapters of certain books. And to reread them if he wasn't sure what he read. He couldn't practice magic but he could still learn about spells he might need. Nor was there any need for him not to keep up on his studies as far as knowing about plants and animals as well as the potions he would normally be learning. Draco didn't even think about protesting the idea. At least he had something specific to occupy his time. He would be staying inside this house for quite some time.

It was the third morning that Draco realized he had never asked what day it was. He knew winter had set in because of the snow on the trees, but he never thought to ask how far into the winter it was. He found out when he walked down the stairs. Music was coming from a radio. Christmas music.

"By the fireplace," Moody called out, and Draco turned left. Moody was on the couch, as usual, leaving the chair by the fire for Draco. Across from the fireplace from his chair was a Christmas tree. It was a live tree, in a large garden pot. And the lights weren't on it, but floating around it of their own accord, flickering as they moved in and out among the branches like multicoloured fireflies.

"Not much," Moody admitted, "but I thought you'd like something. Don't usually decorate."

"It's beautiful," Draco told him as he walked up to the tree. He tried to touch one of the lights but it flew away from him and into the branches.

"I have a gift for you, of sorts," Moody told him. "I talked to old friends over eggnog, and stronger stuff, about how a few things struck my interest about your case. At the right time, I brought up the idea of a private investigation, simply for something to do, just to see what I could come up with."

"They agreed?" Draco asked, still staring at the lights.

"Once I made note of the fact that most of the people involved have little experience with muggles."

Draco laughed, "I remember when Cas came by for me birthday. He thought he was dressed to blend in."

Moody's voice had a bitter edge. "That would be Casper . . . Black, Bellatrix's boy."

"She's me godmother."

"I know."

Draco turned to the man. "She made 'er sister promise not to 'urt me."

Moody laughed. "And she kept that promise, I can assure you. Poisoning didn't hurt you one bit. Even if it did almost kill you." His face became grim. "Listen, boy. Bellatrix Lestrange may be your godmother, but she's as hard as they come. If she ever decides to, she'll make you wish you were dead just for the fun of it."

Draco didn't argue. For all that he knew, that was the truth. Aunt Bella had already shown that she likes to be in control. Casper was proof of that. As it was, Draco shrugged his shoulders.

"Coulda been an accident. Dobby don't know from nuthin' about drugs."

"Possibly," Moody conceded, although his tone let Draco know that the possibility was slim, as far as he was concerned. "Change the subject?"

Draco nodded. Walking over to his chair, he sat down. "Whot you investigatin'?"

"That school you were sent to. Saint Brutus. At least that's what I'm supposed to do. It's where I'll start. Look around for a bit; make my boss think I'm really doing what I asked."

"Won't find nuthin'. Weren't there long enough."

Moody smiled. "Mister Malfoy, this is part of your education while you are with me. I am not going there to find out about you. I am going there to find out if any other wizard has been nosing about. I want to know how hard people are looking for you, the good ones and the bad ones. And I'll leave the matter open as to which group anyone I find should belong to."

Draco nodded again. This man had thought things out and had a clear plan of action. Then he had a bad thought.

"Sir, I 'ave frien's . . . muggles."

"They're safe enough. No one's going to bother with them, except to keep an eye out. In case you show up. But that brings up another point. I want you to write me a list. Every person you know outside of Hogwarts, what you know about them, where I can find them. I'll want to check everyone. You can start tomorrow." He reached into his robe and pulled out a package that should have been too large to hide. "Merry Christmas."

Draco snatched the package eagerly and tore the wrapping off the box. He opened it with wide-eyed expectation. He looked up, puzzled. "Whot is it?"

"Dress robes. Barely used and a good price. They might be a bit big for you now but you'll grow into them soon enough."

Draco gave the man a confused thank you. He took them out of the box and tried them on out of courtesy. But it was when he looked in the mirror. It was as though a stranger were looking back at him. For a fleeting moment, Draco knew what it meant to look rich. For Draco, that alone made it a wonderful present. He even thought of a place where he might wear them.

"Think they'll let me wear this for me trial?"

Moody snorted. "I don't think they'll ever bother giving you one."