A/N: Well, hello there. It has been some time since I posted. I felt like it was time to reupload this all these years later with a (hopefully much less cringe-y) updated version to this story. With the benefit of age and time distancing me from this work, I can tell it was poorly paced and needed a lot of work. So I'm trying this again. I recognize I might be shouting into the void here, but I'm posting anyway on the off chance that someone reads and wants to provide feedback.

So, without further ado, here is the 3rd revision of Somewhere Between Living and Loving.

There comes a time in a person's life when they can no longer live under the influence of their parents. They reach a point where they must make their own decisions and face their own consequences. I feel I have reached that point, and I can no longer reconcile myself to living underneath my father's thumb. I must branch out and become the person I am truly meant to be.

The trouble is, escaping is not as easy as it sounds. For most wizards, it is as simple as completing their education at Hogwarts, or whichever school they may attend, getting a steady job, buying a flat, and eventually a house in the countryside where they can raise their own kids in peace.

This was never to be my future. I knew this from a young age. I am a Malfoy. I have expectations that were set upon my shoulders. And I am honor-bound to fulfill them. I have even been threatened. For the longest time, I felt I was stuck upon the path my father set me. Until I picked up the newspaper one day and saw Saint Potter's face on the cover of The Prophet. It was some story about a giant Death Eater bust from the remains of the Second War. But all my mind took in was the fact that Potter had power. He had power I could use. Power to change my life path.

I refused to go to my schoolyard nemesis for over a year, but there came a time when I could no longer handle the pressure my father injected into my life. I felt my pride whimper as I closed my eyes and used the one outing my father allowed me a week. I prayed Potter would listen to me, or else I would have wasted a perfectly good opportunity to get absolutely wasted with the rest of the Heirs.

I arrived in front of the Ministry for Magic and sighed. It was time for me, self-admitted prat and arrogant Slytherin to grovel for help from the one person I terrorized for years on end. I knew this would not be easy, but I also knew exactly how out of other options I was.

I sighed once more and walked into the Ministry with the hood of my cloak pulled low over my eyes.

The first person I came upon was a young, ditzy blonde woman with bubble gum colored eyes and lips. I shuddered in revulsion and tried to keep the sneer out of my voice. I was here to beg, not to judge. It took all I had in me, but I managed.

"Sir? Can I help you?" she said, as she popped, much to my chagrin, some bubble gum into her mouth. I almost snapped as she began to chew her gum as loud as she possibly could.

"I need to talk to Auror Potter," I only barely managed to keep the feelings of disgust out of my voice.

"He's, like, the Head Auror now," the blonde replied to me.

"What?" Okay, not my most elegant moment, but I could not have heard her correctly.

"Auror Potter now leads his, oh, what's it called? His team-y thing. Like, everyone who works here," she paused and scrunched her face into what greatly resembled some wrinkled mammal, "Division!" she screeched so suddenly I nearly jumped. "Head Auror Potter was promoted two weeks ago."

"He's eighteen!" I felt my resentment of Potter rise in me again. His name got him there, nothing else. That had to be it. He had no talents. Just like how his name was the source of his fame, rather than anything he had done to earn what he had.

"Yes, that's right. He is the youngest Head Auror, like, ever! Now sir, can I ask your name?"

I hadn't thought this through. I panicked and told the girl the first combination of names I could think of. "Theodore Coy."

Blondie looked at me strangely, but continued on with the process. "Okaaayyyy. Please remove your hood now."

"I'm afraid I cannot do that."

"Why not? I gotta check if you have weapons on you!"

I held out my arms. "You can check me magically. I mean no harm." The girl looked at me strangely, pulled out a large book and read up on magical detection spells. As soon as she found the one she needed, she once again shrieked and excitedly stood.

"This is why I love this job! I get to learn new things every day." I rolled my eyes and wondered if this girl had even made it through school and, if she had, what house she was in. I scoffed to myself. My money would be on Hufflepuff. The secretary finally waved her wand, and I felt a tingling go down my body. "You are clear. I will contact Head Auror Potter and have him meet you in interrogation room number 3. "

"Thank you." As I followed the woman down the hall towards the rooms, I took a deep breath, preparing what I would say to beg for mercy. We arrived at the room that had been indicated to me and I entered and sat down in one of the two chairs in the room. The blonde shut the door behind me and I began to idly fiddle with one of the two metal rings attached to the table while I waited.

A short time later, Potter walked in, his wand drawn, but kept loosely at this side. I kept my eyes trained on the ground, as a sign of submission and to convey my harmlessness. "My secretary said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes," I felt my teeth grind as I added, "sir."

"I have been told your name is," Potter paused as if he were checking something, "Theodore Coy?"

Another gritted, "Yes, sir."

I heard Potter take a seat in the chair across from me. "Would you please look at me? I don't like talking to someone so downtrodden, although your humility is quite refreshing around here."

Making sure my hood was kept in place, I looked up. Potter looked me in the eyes, and his widened. "Malfoy!"

Shit. Of course he would recognize me. I sighed and dropped both my hood and the act. "Potter, I need your help."

I saw revulsion and wariness well up in his eyes at the slightest idea of helping me with anything. His guard was definitely up. "With what?"

"I need out. I need somewhere to hide and start over."

Potter raised an eyebrow. "And why do you think I'm the person to help you do that? Use your wealth and name and go buy yourself a fresh start." Potter moved to stand. "Thanks for stopping by, I'll have my secretary escort you out and –"

"Wait! Please. Wealth and name aren't options. Do you really think I would come here if this wasn't my last resort, Potter? I know you're thick, but use your brain a little!" I fell back into my habit of taunting Potter too easily. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. I sighed, "I'm sorry. That was impolite. I just," I swallowed around the lump in my throat. "You don't need my whole life story. But I beg of you, please, help me. I just want out." I began to lose my composure as my desperation began to overwhelm me.

"I can see that you are being genuine, but I'm afraid that any help I could offer is negated by the Dark Mark. There is nothing I can do for you." Potter almost looked as if he felt actual pity for me. He also just looked… tired.

I sighed, "Why do you automatically assume that I have the Dark Mark?"

"You're a Malfoy, why wouldn't I assume that? Getting it was all you talked about in school."

"It was all I knew. My father," I sneered at the word, "hyped it up. All I knew was that someday I would be given the 'honor' of being marked. But when the time came, I refused to take it."

"And your father allowed you to refuse?"

I scoffed, "Does my father seem like the type to just allow refusals of what he has decided will happen?"

"No, which brings us back to my assumption of your possession of a Mark."

I slumped forward. This was getting us nowhere. "I can see why you would wind up at that conclusion. But no. I did not take the Mark." I lifted my left arm and pulled back my sleeve, then dropped the glamor that hid the worst of the injury as I unwound the bandages covering it. "The Mark cannot be placed on an unwilling recipient. But the shape can. He said if I did not accept the honor, I would be branded in dishonor."

Potter's nose scrunched in revulsion at the disaster that was the pile of burned flesh and scars that marred my forearm. "He burned it onto you?"

"Yes." He did more than that, but I needed Potter's help, not his pity.

"My god. How long ago did this happen?"

"The first time? Sixth year."

"What do you mean the first time? How many times were you tortured?" Potter seemed genuinely horrified but, beyond that, it almost seemed like he cared.

I refused to rehash that part of my life again, and I felt like this was verging into way too personal territory for what I was trying to make happen. "Plenty. Look, Potter, I really need your help. I know this is less than ideal circumstances, but I can't go back to this," I lifted my arm again as Potter continued to stare at my arm as if he were trying to put the pieces together. "I have nowhere else to turn."

"I-Malfoy, I." Potter paused and took a deep breath. "Everything in me wants to tell you to get lost for what you put me through."

I laughed bitterly. "I can't say I particularly blame you."

"But no one deserves that," he gestured towards my arm, "no matter how much of an ass they were. I will do my best to figure something out to help you. But there will have to be some conditions."

"I expected as much." I felt relief wash over me, as well as the very beginnings of hope. "What are your conditions?"

"You will submit to questioning under Veritaserum. Once I am satisfied with those answers, you will be placed under constant surveillance until, if and when, I feel that you are trustworthy. You will be placed under a sort of unofficial house arrest, only to leave with my permission and an escort."

"So I would be trading one prison for another?"

"It's that or walk out of here and go back to the Manor. I know it is not ideal, but I cannot place the people I am sworn to protect at undue risk based on your word alone."

There wasn't a choice for me. Not really. "I accept your terms."

Potter nodded. "Okay, good. I will need some time to get the protection detail set up. In the meantime, go to the Hog's Head." Potter reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pile of coins. "I'm assuming you don't have any of your belongings with you, so take that and rent out a room for the night. Use the name you told my secretary. I will find you there tomorrow once things have been arranged for you. Talk to no one until I come and get you. And Malfoy," I met his eyes, "if you are serious about all of this, if you're really now on the run, you'll need a better disguise than a cloak. Glamour yourself. I won't spend precious Ministry resources trying to track you down if you're captured.

"Harsh, Potter." I had considered using glamours, but the ones I already had applied used up too much of my magic to allow for further disguising spells.

Potter shrugged. "I have a business to run and we don't have endless supplies for doing The Right Thing."

"I understand. It's just-" I reached up and scratched the back of my neck. How could I get around revealing too much to Potter? "I've never been the best at disguising magic," I lied. "Takes too much concentration, you know?" The lie and the hit to my pride tasted sour in my mouth, but I swallowed around it. Potter didn't need to know.

Potter sighed and waved his hand towards me. I felt a warm tingling sensation cascade from the top of my head and down to my toes. "There you go, you're disguised. It should last long enough to get you through questioning and to the Hog's Head before fading. Now, if there's nothing else?" He paused, waiting for my answer. I shook my head.

"Good. Follow me."

Potter led me down numerous halls and down several flights of stairs before we stopped in what appeared to be a Potions storage area. There was a door made of thick steel to our left. Potter pointed to the door, "Go in there and take a seat. We will be with you shortly."

I nodded and did as he asked.

Moments later, Potter filed through the door, trailed by a stout woman carrying a briefcase.

"Malfoy, this is Brena. Brena is our Veritaserum Administrator and will be assisting me in your questioning. Brena is sworn to secrecy and will not reveal who you are, or what we discuss here. If all that is agreeable, I believe we are ready to begin?" Potter phrased the statement like a question. Again, I nodded.

"I need your verbal answer, Malfoy. Are you ready to begin?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes, I am ready."

"Great. Brena, if you please?" At Potter's request, the short woman laid out the briefcase, opened it, and removed a small vial filled with the colorless liquid. As she approached me, I tilted my head back and opened my mouth. Brena poured the potion in my mouth, then stepped back. She did not cease watching me as I swallowed and opened my mouth again to prove I had consumed the serum. Satisfied, she nodded towards Potter, then retook her position behind him and pulled a pad of paper and quill from the briefcase.

I narrowed my eyes. "You don't use a Quick-Quotes Quill here? Wouldn't that be easier and more accurate than manual note taking?"

Potter huffed a laugh. "I'm not a fan. I prefer handwritten notes from trustworthy sources." Brena sat up a little straighter, pride at being called trustworthy by the Great Harry Potter beaming in her eyes. I resisted the urge to roll mine. "If anything is unclear, we can always rewatch the memories in a Pensieve."

I shrugged. "Fair enough." The conversation naturally died as we waited a couple minutes for the potion to fully take effect. Then, Potter began the questioning.

"What is your given name?"

"Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"Your un-glamoured hair color?"

"Blond."

"Eye color?"

"Grey."

Potter smirked. "What happened to you when Professor Moody caught you taunting me in fourth year?"

I felt my cheeks turning red and tried to resist answering, but felt my tongue beginning to move in answer before I could stop it. "He turned me into a ferret and bounced me around the courtyard. I was pulling tufts of fur out of… places for a week after that." I held back as much information as I could while still answering truthfully.

Potter's expression was positively gleeful at the admission I had just made. "Were you now?" He choked back a laugh. Brena cleared her throat. "Uhm, right. Anyway," I couldn't hide the relief I felt wash over me at Brena's interruption. "Is it true that you never accepted the Dark Mark?"

"Yes."

"And do you truly renounce all the beliefs espoused by Voldemort, the Death Eaters, and all their sympathizers?"

"Yes."

"What do you believe about blood purity?"

"I don't have an opinion. I just want to live my life and let people live theirs. I don't have the energy to keep up," I had to fight to phrase this in a way that wouldn't reveal too much, while still being honest, "appearances and worry about other peoples' lineage."

"Hm." Potter did not appear completely satisfied with that answer and took some time before asking his next question. While he was silent, his eyes did not leave the general area of my left arm. "Did you receive the Mark and try to burn it off of your person?"

The thought made my stomach roll. "You think I did this to myself?" I said, disbelievingly.

"Answer the question, Malfoy."

"No, I did not try to burn off the Mark. Like I said, I did not accept the Mark from anyone."

"Then why has it not healed? The burns don't appear fresh, but don't look old. Unless the burns are less than a week old, a bloodline like yours should have been able to heal those up without a problem."

Fuck. I felt the answer pouring from me before I could stop it. "Not if the wound is cursed."

"Cursed?"

"He didn't just burn me. He had me held down and took a cursed knife to it. Cut off the skin raised by the burn. The curse prevents blood loss and infection, but never allows for the wound to actually close. The scars are from when he would just use the brand. The one that looks the newest is the first."

Potter paled at my answer and appeared to be stunned into silence.

Brena spoke up. "Would you consider pressing charges against your father for what happened to you?'

My head snapped in her direction. "I, I never considered that as an option. Is that possible?"

Potter blinked a couple times to reorient himself and nodded. "We would have to build a case against him, and it would take some time. We would have to get you somewhere safe and settled before I would risk serving the warrant for his arrest, but yes. This is assault. That is an offense punishable by prison time."

I felt the hope drain away a little bit. "My father will never see the inside of a prison cell. At least not for very long."

"Let us worry about that. In the meantime, I believe I am satisfied with your answers. Brena, do you have anything you would like to add before the potion wears off?"

"Yes, Head Auror Potter. You asked me to remind you to get his sworn truthful agreement to your terms before we end this session."

"Ah, yes, thank you Brena. Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, accept the following terms of your house arrest? You are to be placed under constant surveillance until such a time as I feel that you are trustworthy. You are to only leave any of the premises at which you are placed with my permission and with an escort. At any time, should I, or any of my chosen representatives, deem it necessary, you will submit to another round of questioning or to searches of your person or belongings. Do you agree to these terms?" Potter stuck out his hand.

I felt uneasy with the terms, but knew this was the best deal I was going to get, at least for the time being. "I agree." I took Potter's hand, and then was once again speaking before my brain caught up to my mouth.

"This reminds me of our first year."

"What do you mean?" Potter seemed genuinely confused.

"This isn't the first time one of us offered a hand to the other. Only I didn't reject your offer."

"I don't know what you expected, Malfoy, you had just insulted the first friend I had ever made in order to get me to see you as superior. Not a stellar way to make friends, I might add!"

"I know, it wasn't my finest moment ever-" I stopped talking as Potter's words finally registered in my brain, "first friend?"

Potter flinched. "I am not the one under questioning. I believe we are finished here. Brena, will you escort Mr. Malfoy to the front desk? I will see you tomorrow, Malfoy."

Well, that was abrupt. My curiosity was burning through me, but I did not want to push my luck and ruin my last chance of getting out of the hell that was my life.

Brena handed me a glass of water, which I sipped at gratefully. The aftertaste of the Veritaserum potion wasn't unpleasant, but it had a nasty habit of leaving you with the worst cottonmouth. I rinsed out my mouth and finished off the glass before following the short woman back the way Potter and I had originally came. She left me at the front door to the Ministry and I left, catching my glamoured reflection as I did.

Outside, I stopped and studied my new reflection in a darkened window. My hair was much longer than I usually kept it and the color was now a dark, plain brown and my eyes an unremarkable shade of blue. My aquiline nose was now stout and appeared to have been broken and healed many times. I had a light splattering of freckles and a rounded face. I had to hand it to Potter, I looked nothing like myself. I wondered if this was yet another skill that came easily to Saint Potter, or if he actually worked hard to get this good.

The walk to the Hog's Head was uneventful, as was getting a room. I checked in under "Theodore Coy" and, after charming and warding the door, quickly fell onto the bed and into a fitful sleep in the dirty hovel that passed for a room here.