Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copywrited to J. K. Rowling. All of the characters in it are hers.

A/N: This is my first story. Please read/review to let me know what you think or how I can improve.

CHAPTER ONE

Draco Malfoy sighed unhappily as he downed his third mead and ordered another. He knew getting drunk wouldn't help, but tonight he didn't care about self-control or restraint. The Malfoys had always prided themselves on their willpower, their ability to not give in to baser temptations, to not put themselves in what could become a compromising position, and to know when immediate personal sacrifices were necessary for their long run goals. But tonight, Draco didn't give a shit about the famous Malfoy family self-control.

Another half an hour, and Draco had decided he was drunk enough. The blond gave a cursory check of the bills in his pocket before stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron and into muggle London.

The day before, Draco been kicked out of Malfoy Manor by a very enraged Lucius. Draco's father had escaped Azkaban and returned home to start up a new band of Death Eaters, who he expected his son to join. Draco had refused.

In the middle of seventh year, several Death Eaters had kidnapped Harry Potter during a Hogsmead weekend. From the stories circulating the school, Draco knew they put the boy under Imperious and brought him immediately to the Dark Lord's lair. But the hero of the wizarding world had once again lived up to his name of the Boy Who Lived.

Draco knew that the infuriating boy hero had ingeniously pretended to be submissive to the Imperious curse while actually maintaining control of his own mind. The Dark Lord had apparently thought it would be ironic for Harry Potter to be the means of his own destruction and had ordered the boy to carry over to him a cursed sword he had procured for the purpose of killing the boy. Instead of handing over the sword, however, the Gryffindor had thrust it into the chest of a very shocked Voldemort. With instincts swifter than the stunned Dark Lord's, the amazing Potter had then followed up with an Avada Kedavra. The terrified Death Eaters had fled and Potter was thrust once again into the limelight as savior of the world.

The events had been announced during dinner in the Great Hall. Draco hadn't been at the meal, but the Slytherins who had been there left their food to rush and tell him the news.

"Stupid fucking Potter," Draco had cursed in outrage. "Why won't he just die already?"

His housemates threw in a few heated curses of their own. Death Eaters across the country were turning each other in as they heard the news, each hoping to sell out a few friends in return for freedom.

Half of Slytherin had parents in Azkaban by the end of the month, and Harry Potter found himself dodging curses daily. Draco had sent the stupid git to the infirmary for two days with a very wicked that made Potter's face puff up to such proportions that the boy could hardly see from beyond his swollen eyelids. Draco had been quite proud of that curse indeed.

Draco's father had been in prison since the end of fifth year, and now his mother had joined him there as well. All thanks to bloody Potter.

Still, Draco had to concede the timing had been fortuitous. He himself had not actually wanted to join the Dark Lord's legion of supporters. Draco wanted his life to be his own, he wanted to try out for professional Quidditch or at least get a high-paying executive job in some magical company. And he didn't want Voldemort's incessant demands to interfere with his own quest for power and riches.

But Lucius had always intended for Draco to join the Death Eaters as soon as he graduated from Hogwarts. Draco had never gotten around to telling his father he had no intentions of being subservient to any wrinkling old wizard who should have died years ago. At least Potter, the stupid savior of the wizarding world, had managed to save Draco from one thing -having to chose between disobedience and unhappiness.

Or so it had seemed at the time.

But just five months after graduation, there was Lucius miraculously standing in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor as Draco sipped his morning coffee.

The younger Malfoy had choked on his breakfast.

"Father? What are you doing here?"

"Son, our Lord is dead. But we can carry on his mission, we can save the world from mudbloods and muggles. I am building an army of Death Eaters. We can grab the power he dreamed about and make his vision of a pureblood wizarding world a reality!"

Lucius had grandly explained an elaborate scheme to take over where Voldemort had left off and to make himself the new Dark Lord who would bring about a mudblood-free society.

It seemed to Draco that his father's time in Azkaban had made him quite insane.

"Father, I have a life now," Draco had exclaimed in a tone filled with more hostility and anger then he would have ever dared to use against his father in the past.

"The war is over," he continued. "You lost. And I'm not about the throw away my future on the same mistake you made. I don't intend to waste away in that hell of a prison so someone else can rise to power on my misfortune."

"You listen to me carefully, boy." Lucius voice was cold, even, and deadly serious. "If you disobey me, I will destroy you. So straighten up your priorities right now because I already have over a hundred wizards who have pledged their loyalty to me and you cannot oppose us all. But if you apologize now, maybe I'll be merciful."

"No."

When Lucius realized his son would not be joining him on his quest for world domination, the older man had starting throwing curses at his son. Draco didn't know if it was because his father's magic was rusty after so many years in prison or if it was because the stolen wand he clutched was maliciously acting up, but there was no result when Lucius pointed the wand at his son and coldly said, "Crucio."

"Stupefy! Petrificus Totalus!" Draco had said sharply as he pointed his own wand at his father. Lucius had fallen, immobile, to the floor. Draco had left the manor without so much as bothering to change out of his red silk pajamas.

Arriving at Diagon Alley that same afternoon, Draco had ignored the quizzical looks of the witches and wizards who were sizing up his sleepwear. Draco was rather glad he wasn't the kind of person who slept in nothing but his boxers. Now that would be embarrassing.

Draco had only a small amount of money in his personal Gringotts account, the Malfoy fortune still residing in a vault under his father's name. Draco had emptied his own account, bought some clothes, and found a comfortable wizard hotel.

Scanning the newspaper, Draco had realized that his father had not broken out of jail alone, but had escaped with seven other inmates. He'd met them all before. They were the kind of subservient sycophants who would be obnoxiously loyal to his father. And he knew that none of them would hesitate to turn him over to his father. If caught, he was sure to suffer the Cruciatius curse or even death.

And who knew how many other uncaught Death Eaters had also sworn an allegiance to Lucius? He had mentioned gathering an army. And there must have been people on the outside to help him escape Azkaban.

They could be anywhere. They could be anyone.

Draco Malfoy was not safe in the wizarding world. He had only one choice to be safe and stay out of their reach – he would have to live among the muggles.