This story is temporarily untitled

Disclaimer: I own nothing... my life sucks... poor, poor me...

It was just a game against Hufflepuff; Harry could relax slightly while in the air and laugh because the opposition's Seeker was having trouble staying on his broom. He smiled and glanced around the pitch for the Snitch. He wasn't trying too hard because well, when was the last time Hufflepuff beat anyone at Quidditch? Several uneventful minutes into the game and Gryffindor was up 70 against a feeble 0. Last year with no Quidditch must have really hurt the Hufflepuff team. They were bad, but never this bad.

Harry surveyed the sky looking for the Snitch. Once again nothing. He did some show-y stunts to lessen the tedium of the game, but then he saw it; it was flying near the highest ring of the Gryffindor goals, so he was off. Humid October air began to rush through his hair he sped up and reached out for the small shining ball. The other Seeker must have finally gotten ahold of their broomstick and was tailing him. Dodging players and Bludgers, Harry was almost there. Stretching his fingers, Harry grasped the ball. His smiled widened and he examined his prize, a nauseous pull at his stomach, and he thought he was falling. The world seemed to be spinning around him; he closed his eyes and awaited impact feeling slightly detached.

His world was out of proportion, he didn't know what was going on anymore, everything was still spinning madly, and he thought he would have hit the ground by now. Suddenly, without warning the world righted itself, and Harry stumbled on to a floor. Shaking himself of some dizziness, he examined his surroundings with confusion. He stood in a shadowed room that smelled of mold and the floor was damp. Weak light crept in through a small window high up on one of the walls. Harry opened up his hand and stared in shock at the small golden Snitch curled up in his palm. He scoffed at the sheer irony of it, once again Portkeyed to some sinister place most likely for a less than friendly reason.

Suddenly, from behind him, fingers were running down his arm and he could feel warm breath on is neck as he cringed.

"Harry Potter," a voice drawled roughly, but with amusement, "Wherever are your manners?"

Back at Hogwarts: during the Quidditch match

People were glancing around in horror, Harry Potter, savior of the Wizarding world, had just disappeared into thin air. People were standing and looking around in the near to eerie silence; next followed frantic hushed whispers along with a very angry red head whom was shouting obscenities while a bushy haired Hermione attempted to calm him.

"What the hell does he think he is doing? Going around, disappearing all over the place! The sodding poof! Really, who the bloody hell does he think he is?", the red head shouted, ignoring the stares he was getting, and continued cursing his missing friend.

"Oh I bet he will get the front page for this one. 'Boy-Who-Vanished'. Attention-seeking git! I can just see it now: 'Tragically during a Hogwarts Quidditch game, The Boy-Who-Took-It-Up-The-Ass disappeared. He is suspected to have been abducted by Death Eaters. Let us all hold candles of vigil and hope, because we know they can't kill The Boy-Who-Lived. Let's hope they don't all rape him or at least that the women don't."

Draco Malfoy watched from near by and laughed at the Weasel's antics, though he himself wondered where the boy had gone. But soon enough he would know, he thought, because after all, his father was in the Inner Circle.

For the school, life continued almost the same as before, just now a certain famous bugger was missing, and everyone had conspiracy theories concerning that bugger. Snape was almost joyous with his most despised pupil missing. Several students had even reported to the infirmary claiming they had been hallucinating after seeing him whistling in the hallways. Professor Lupin, who had come back to teach again was worrying himself into a coma. He was forgetting things, he didn't appear to be sleeping, often he could be found sitting at his deask with his head in his hands muttering to himself. McGonnagal was even beginning to behave strangely. She seemed to be out of focus. Whole classes even reported that during several transformations, she had finished still sporting a nice set of whiskers. Of course, every day Trelawny was saying something like, "I can see Harry meeting a gruesome death!" and, "Oh, the dark times are upon us! The savior is gone!". With each passing day, her "inner eye" was coming up with more extreme exclamations. The more out of the ordinary included, "Just last night, I witnessed our Harry being mauled by an overgrown mutated Flobberworm."

The remains of the Golden Trio were more of a mess then anyone. Ron, who appeared to be doing fine when the subject was ignored would explode when anything remotely Harry Potter-esque was mentioned. Hermionie was always in the library researching possible leads. The most bizarre reaction was most likely that of the youngest Weasley who would begin bawling manically as much as her older brother would scream. Draco concluded that the whole lot of them were mad; the Gryffindors that is. While Slytherin House was having a Potter-Is-Missing-Yay-The-Prat-Is-Gone party, they were sulking, plotting, crying , puzzling; thus solidifying Draco's thesis. Neville, being a huge loser before, had some how magically deteriorated his self-esteem past negative. The Weasley twins couldn't figure what to do, partly set on brightening up the atmosphere with new crazy products, and partly set on kidnapping suspects and interrogating them rather harshly. Most of the time they settled on smuggling in "better" butterbeer and seeing what happened next. This led to quite a few peculiar explanations.

But overall as time went on, people grew worried. Headlines became The-Boy-Who-Lived-Once?", and "Savior gone?" Christmas holidays arrived and students went home to their parents, still not knowing where their Golden Boy had gone.

Draco had not heard from his father where Saint Potter had gone, not even after all of his excessive pleading and begging. He was going to try a new approach when he arrived home - bribing. He could not bribe with much, for his Father had nearly everything, so he would have to use information. Though what information he had, he wasn't sure. Actually since some time before the savior's disappearence, Draco had been debating with himself about his position in the oncoming war. He was pretty sure that the triumphant side would be that of Harry and Dumbledore, but with Harry missing, his resolve on switching allies had been shaken. He figured while he was home he would try to obtain more information so that he could make a final decision.

His house was immaculate and soundless as usual when the front doors opened and Draco was ushered in by one of the cleaner house elves. He wasn't greeted, for with family formality along with interaction was as scarce as scarce could be. His polished shoes tapping against the mahogany floor were the only sound as he slowly made his way up to his rooms. Everything was as he remembered it; quite possibly endless wooden floors that shined without flaw, cold, unfeeling family portraits hung here and there, perfectly arranged clutter that if moved out of place migrated back on its own, and everything that could clearly state "We're filthy rich and you'll never compare to us." The foyer opened up allowing view to several of the many floors of the monstrous home with a double staircase leading up from either side of the room. To either side ornately carven French doors depicting the most obvious; snakes, which opened to sitting rooms, the east wing for family guests, and the west for Draco's mother. At the end of the long room were two very large doors similar to the others in the room that led to his father's rooms. The room itself had a ridiculously high vaulted ceiling that was like the one of Hogwarts' Great Hall, only the Malfoy's always displayed a clear, starry night. In the middle of the room, glittering, was an enormous chandelier floating weightlessly above everyone's heads. The chandelier itself was silver and crystal, hundreds of thousents of tiny faceted stones reflected soft candlelight, giving everyone in the room the feeling that not only the sky above them was filled with stars, but that they themselves were standing somewhere in the Heavens.

Not all too awed having seen the room hundreds of times, Draco climbed up the staircase that would take him to his floor. Each living Malfoy had their own floor, instead of their own room, because of course this was a much more luxerious way of living. His bedroom was on the back wall of the manor, allowing a magestic view of the gardens. Draco secretly loved the gardens. WIth all of his things already delivered, he fell onto his bed and let sleep claim him.

END CHAPTER ONE

Thanks to my amazing fiance, who beta'd this for me. All you readers have to clap now...Oh and review lots...please? begs