The day I met him, it was probably one of my worst. It was one of those days when simply being a Malfoy wasn't good enough. Actually, it was the opposite of good. The Malfoy name had been shamed to unbearable depths, and I couldn't even walk on the streets without mockery thrown at me.

But I tried anyway.

Looking back, I don't know if I regret the walk that I took, because it led me to a person that I would eventually call brother. But the journey there was less than great.

I had been grounded by my own mother, whose only reason for grounding me was simply because it was too dangerous to go outside.

It had been over a month since the Battle of Hogwarts, the name they used for the war against You-Know-Who. My family came out rather unscathed, except we were now known as scum for siding with You-Know-Who.

People believed we should have been thrown in prison, with the rest of the Death Eaters, where we belonged. But my family switched sides in the war. We didn't help Him in the most crucial moments of the war.

But still, no one cared.

We're still the family who bullied the great Harry Potter at Hogwarts, the family that purebloods frown upon, the family that everyone avoids.

And so a simple stroll in the park results in hexes, curses, and jinxes, thrown at your head. If their wands weren't found in time, sticks, stones, and fruit were pelted at us.

That day, I received worse.

I'd been grounded for too long. I needed to see the sunshine, to feel the gentle breeze on my face, to smell the flowers along the paths. And so I did.

My parents forget that I was second brightest of my grade, after Hermione, the mudblo-the witch with the wild brown hair. I disabled the spell around my house that prevented me from leaving, and left the house.

I had put the spell back on, and looked up at the blue sky with the fluffy clouds. I taken a deep breath of the fresh air, and closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of the midday sun on my face. I bent down and took a sniff of a rose growing on the bush in front of my house. It had smelled deliciously sweet.

I had stood up, and walked towards the park, not knowing what dangers lay ahead of me. I was simply going to swing on the swings for a while, then walk back home. But someone else had something else planned for me.

I realized I was being followed halfway to the park. Three burly men kept behind me, trying to blend in. But there was no one to blend in with. Every time I had turned back, they struck up a conversation with each other. But as soon as my head was turned away, they stopped. And every time I turned back, they were one step closer.

I remember walking faster, hoping to get to the park before anything happened, so if something did, I'd have people defending me.

I almost got to the park. Almost.

They jumped me from behind, and took my wand away, shoving me in an alleyway. They sneered at me, and started punching me, kicking me. All I could do was curl in a ball. If I tried to get up, one of them would push me right back down. And so there I lay, for what seemed like hours while they beat me, yelling about the things my family had done.

Then he came.

Green eyed with messy black hair. A bit like Potter, but he had a scent of the ocean breeze around him. My age.

I didn't know any of that at first, except that somehow the ocean breeze had floated in this damp, musky alley. I felt the three men stop, and water droplets hit my face. I had peeked out and seen the men wrapped in whirlwinds of water. The nearby hose was gushing, making the whirlpools of water larger.

And that's all I saw. The men had kicked me too hard. I was losing consciousness faster with every passing moment. Black spots were dancing in my vision, and I could barely make out the shape of the boy in front of me. I managed out a weak thanks, and then promptly passed out.