The sadistic rain pounded down on the raggedy platinum blonde's head. He was watching his feet as he watched. The cloth bag he carried had soaked through and it was likely that any contents in it were soaked as well. His clothes were soaked through and clung tightly around his very fit body. He had been walking all day through the gusting wind and pounding rain. The sun had just begun to set and the street lights turned on, illuminating the desolate street. The inhabitants of this neighborhood had long since retired to the comfort of their warm, dry homes.

His feet dragged against the sidewalk. He looked up only for a brief moment to see which street he needed to travel down next. He looked questioningly to the left and then back to the right. He obviously had never traveled this way before, because he stood on that corner for a half hour before a near by neighbor ran out with an umbrella to ask him what he was looking for.

"I don't know. I need to get some place where I can stay, but I have no money," These were words had never been spoken from his mouth before. He cringed at the thought of having no money. He took his sleeve and wiped his mouth with it, as if the words had tainted them. The woman eyed him closely before speaking again.

"Here, come lets get you into my house, at least so you don't get sick." She said kindly. The boy was raised not to take charity and shook his head no. "You catch the death out here, please let me get you some dry clothes at least," He continued to refuse every offer she gave him, but she persisted. With much coaxing he agreed to stay only long enough to get warm and dry his clothes. The woman led him into her house. He was met with an aroma of pasta and sauce cooking. The house was bright and warm. To his left there was a room with a roaring fire and two sofas with pink carpet. To his right was what looked to be a dinning room with a large table set for four. She ushered him down the hall that was in front of him and into a bathroom on the left of the hall way. She hurried off leaving him dripping on the tile of the bathroom floor. He was shivering from the drastic change in temperature. She came back a moment later with a pair of jeans a tee-shirt and a gray sweatshirt.

"These are my sons, but he said you could have them. You look to be about his size," She handed him the clothes and shut the bathroom door behind her as she left.

He eyed the clothes before stripping off his wet ones and putting on the dry ones. The woman was right they did fit well. He hung his wet clothes on the edge of the tub and excited the bathroom. He walked across the hall to the kitchen where he saw the woman hurrying around finishing dinner.

"Thank you," He muttered politely.

"You're very welcome. Would you like to stay for dinner?" She asked. The boy hadn't responded, but thought about it. At that very moment his stomach growled loudly. He clutched it trying to make it stop, he really didn't like accepting charity or imposing on such a nice family. The woman smiled at him. "Please take a seat, I will set you a place," The boy tried to object but he was cut off. "And I won't take no for an answer." Somewhat defeated he took a seat at the spare chair at the end of the table. The woman hurried into the dinning room with another plate, fork, knife, spoon, and glass. She patted his wet head after she placed it down, before hurrying back to the kitchen.

A few moments later he was joined the father and two sons. They both took their places on the left side of the table, the father at the head of the table, staring curiously at the strange boy sitting at the other end of the table. The father began to speak to his son, words the boy was all to familiar with.

"Your report card came today," The father said irritably. The son nodded and looked up at his father, fear tearing through his eyes. "Not nearly what we expected, it says your are placed 3rd in your class. This would be good for any other child, but not for you. You are better than that. How can you sit there knowing you are third best! You just let people walk all over you!" His father spat with an angry voice.

"But father..." The son began. He was cut off by his father picking him up from the table by his arm and dragging him into the other room. The boy tried not to look, he knew what was coming, he himself had suffered it too many times. The boy could here the father degrading the son, mentally tearing him down. It was the only way he could feel good about his sad accomplishments. There was a few loud thumps that came from across the hall where they were. The boy saw the little son that was still at the table with him flinch. They both knew what had happened.

The boy at the table watched the father return with a smug look on his face, he was correcting his clothes. The bastard had to hurt his defenseless son to make himself feel powerful. The boy knew this all to well. The pleading words of the boy rang in his ears. "Father please... don't" . The boy wondered how his own father could hear the same words from him and still go ahead with it. This family hit way to close to home. Suddenly the boys head began to pound uncontrollably. His hands shot up and covered his pounding ears. Memories began to flash before the boys eyes.

His father stood over him, a cane raised high in the air. He was cowering on the floor, he was only six and didn't know to stand and take it like a man, he was just a boy. His father whipped the cane down and struck him repeatedly. The boy whimpered in pain. He only said two words to his father that night, "Father Please…" before he was hit across the head and was knocked out.

The boy wrenched open his tearing eyes, the little son at the table was staring at him, the father was sternly looking at him. The boy felt a cold liquid dripping down his face, he wiped his hand across his upper lip. Blood was now staining his pale white skin. He quickly rushed to the bathroom to stop his nose bleed. He cleaned himself up and returned to the table. Everyone watching him closely.

Soon the mother came in with a pot of pasta and sauce. She filled everyone's plates before her own and then took a seat. The boy returned, red and flustered. The mother gave him a sympathetic look before turning to Draco.

"Now, young man, what is your name?" She asked.

"Draco. Draco Malfoy." He replied. The two boys snorted into their pasta. Draco looked sullenly down at his pasta. The mother shot her two sons a nasty glare before turning back to Draco.

"Well it's nice to meet you Draco. This is my husband; you can call him Mr. Potter, our two sons, Jack and Harry. You can call me Mrs. Potter," Draco looked quite shocked at the names. It was just his luck to find a family that reminded him of his enemy. "So, what brings you to this neighborhood?" She asked before taking another bite of pasta.

"Ummmmm," Draco tried to think of a quick lie. "My father is supposed to be staying around here but I forgot the name of the hotel he was staying in. I have been looking for him all day," Draco lied.

"Well, you could stay the night if you like and I could drive you around tomorrow and see if any of the hotel names ring a bell," Mrs. Potter offered.

"No thank you. That is a kind offer but my father expected me tonight and would be really angry if I did not come tonight. I probably shouldn't have even stopped here. Not to be rude or anything, but I think it's best if I leave. May I please be excused?" He asked politely. She looked slightly taken back, but nodded any way. Draco rushed to the bathroom and shoved his wet clothes his back and walked hurriedly towards the door. He turned the handle, looked back at the happy family before quickly running out into the pouring rain again. He sprinted down the road and took a right at the corner he was standing on before. After running as fast and as far as he could for twenty minutes he slowed down to a walk. He was now on some street he hadn't ever heard of.

He had not really experienced the muggle world before. If only he had taken muggle studies he might have had a better idea of what was going on but his father said that class was for muggle lovers and he would not allow it. It was his fathers fault that he was alone in the world, penniless and lost. He stumbled under the only tree that was on the street, seeking shelter from the rain. The leaves provided little protection, but Draco laid down and used his backpack as a pillow. He was even less safe in his dreams, for in his dreams he was haunted by that horrible night when he came face to face with Voldemort

Draco's Dream

Draco's worst fear was letting his father down, and that night he had done it. The ultimate way to let him down, Draco feared for his life when they left the Death Eater circle that night and went home. Draco went first once he reached the house, he sprinted as fast as he could in hopes of escaping his fathers wrath. His father reached the house just in time to seal the door right in front of Draco. He advanced towards him. Draco didn't dare cower now, he had no choice but to take his punishment.

"How dare you dishonor our family like that!" His voice was not loud but venomous. Draco knew this was a rhetorical question and didn't answer. He was standing right in front of him, Draco was staring blankly at the back book shelves of the library. His father struck him right across his face. Draco did not flinch or cry, he stood there while his father beat him. "This is the final straw Draco, you are no longer my son. Get out of my house, do not trade on the Malfoy name, you get no money or any valuable belongings. Quickly pack your things and get out of my sight, you are lucky I don't just banish you from the magical world. MOVE QUICKLY!" He bellowed. Draco gave his father a pleading look.

"Father please don't do this. I have no where to go" Draco pleaded

"I don't care. I know longer know you. I don't care what you do or where you go, that is your own damn business. NOW GET OUT BEFORE I THROW YOU OUT!"

Draco didn't need to be told twice he rushed to his room and took out a cloth bag and shoved a few pairs of jeans, tee-shirts, two sweatshirts, boxers, socks and one extra pair of shoes. He rushed to the bathroom grabbed his toothbrush, toothpaste, hair brush, shampoo and conditioner. He slung the bag over his shoulder and sprinted out of the house. He didn't make it down the street before getting hit by a stunning spell. His body flung forward and he was just about to hit the pavement. /i

Draco's eyes shot open, the early morning sun burned his vulnerable eyes. He rubbed them trying to coax them to open. He surveyed his surroundings. He was on the top of a small hill looking down at a small town. His clothes had dried during the night. He picked up his back pack, flung it back over his shoulder and trudged on.

authors note: well there is the first chapter, what do you think? Please review, any comments would be much appreciated!