Draco's POV

The dark grey walls of the old dusty room seemed to leer at the blonde boy laying on his new bed. Everything was new. House, room, life in general. It had only been two years since the dark lord's demise. Two of the worst years of Draco Malfoy's life. The ministry of magic had created an entire new law enforcement regime. Anyone who had ever sympathised with the dark lord was to be captured and brought in for "questioning". We all knew that was laymen's term for straight to Azkaban. So, every few weeks or so, they would move. Their whole lives were now composed of running and hiding. And it was driving Draco mad.

His mother's timid voice echoed down the hall way, calling Draco. He sighed and begrudgingly pulled himself to his feet. What is it this time? They had only been in this house for a day. He hadn't even unpacked his single bag yet. The house itself had been abandoned years ago by the previous owner for god knows what reason. Couldn't have been for a good one, the house was so old and decayed and creaky, it was almost like the house itself was a ghost. Really wouldn't surprise Draco in the slightest if there was a ghost in the house. Hogwarts had once had about ten of the damn things, why shouldn't this skeleton of a house.

"Draco please stop dawdling this is urgent" His mother almost sounded desperate. What could possibly so urgent this time? It wasn't time to leave already was it?

"Alright I'm here, what is it?" Draco just sounded bored. Which in all truth he was.

"Draco we haven't got much time so listen to me you hear?" Lucius Malfoy's voice cracked slightly. Ever since his brief brush with Azkaban the once proud Malfoy had become a hollow shell of a man. His hair had turned from a lush golden waterfall to a matted mess of greying tangles. His face had been unwashed for weeks, his cloths were no better. Years ago his father would have claimed anyone who looked this way was a disgrace to the family name. But lately the family name seemed to be a curse for them.

"Get your things and go. They've found us Draco; the Auror's will be here any second now. I want you to go somewhere, anywhere away from here that's safe. We'll send an owl as soon as we can but-" Draco cut his father off.

"Wait what are you talking about father?! I can't leave here without you two!" He stared wide eyed at his parents. To his alarm his mother's eyes were wet with impending tears.

"Draco this isn't up for discussion, you are leaving here right now. It's not you they're after, it's us. If you leave before they get here you'll be safe... oh Draco...come here" Narcissa beckoned to her son. Not knowing what to do, he nearly leapt into her arms. This wasn't happening. This had to be a bad dream right? Draco had never actually thought they would get caught. He had hoped that one day the ministry would give up and they could have a normal life... how naive I have been.

His mother was crying Draco knew, but no words of comfort would form no matter how hard he tried. All he could do was hold her, trying not to break down himself. That had always been Draco's problem, he was very emotional more so than any other guy he knew.

"Draco..." Lucius' voice was barley more that a whisper. Draco turned to face his father. Lucius seemed to be holding something in his hand. He held it out to Draco. It seemed to glitter in his fingers. Draco reached for it. Then the world exploded.

The house shook as jets of blue and red sparks smashed through the widows, sending showers of glass over the room. Shouts echoed from outside, angry witches and wizards casting their spells at the house. Draco nearly fell to the floor as the chair beside him completely evaporated. Lucius swore loudly.

"Shit! Draco take this and go. NOW!" Lucius forced something round and silver into Draco's hand and pushed him away from the magical explosions. Draco didn't ask questions, he just moved. He ran back to the grey room and grabbed his wand. He only had enough time to be thankful he had never unpacked before the house shook so violently he was shaken off his feet. With a grunt he smashed hard into the wall and wacked his head. Pain flared in his forehead and something sticky began to ooze in his eye. Shit! Stupid sharp walls!

"Stupefy!" A man's rough cry shouted somewhere behind him. Draco raised his wand defensively, but there was no need. The spell was not aimed for him. There was a large thud from the main room. Lucius Malfoy crashed to the floor, frozen in place by the spell. Draco's mother was fiercely battling two massive Aurors , throwing up defensive shields rather than using her powerful spells Draco knew she could use.

"Where's the other one! We were told there were three!" A female voice screeched over the sound of crashing magic. A face appeared at the end of the hallway, looking directly at Draco. Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit! Oh god ummm, think Draco think! Where the hell do I go? A single thought popped into his head. No, that would be crazy. It'd be like walking into the ministry with open arms. But...just maybe he might... no time to question his mind. With a little flick of the wrist Draco's body twisted and disappeared.

Apparition was still an odd experience for Draco. It was like being on a rollercoaster without the safety of a cart. For about ten seconds he was twisting and turning through the dark void of space. Then he slammed into pavement. Rain was spilling from the sky, soaking Draco immediately. He was in a puddle on the side of a road. The dirty grey concrete of the path felt cold and lifeless, as if people hadn't walked there in years. Draco wanted to break down on the path. To scream, to cry, to hit, to break...something! But this was a muggle neighbourhood. They would only be frightened by a crazy blood covered man screaming in the night. They would call the police, who would arrest him, then send him to the ministry.

So for a few long minutes Draco just curled up on the pavement, tears and blood running down his cheeks, praying he wouldn't be found. Draco could still feel the silver object pressing into his palm. He opened his hand slightly to look at it. It was a ring. Not just an ordinary ring. It was his fathers, the Malfoy family crest decorating the outside. His father had given him the last Malfoy family heirloom. His soul felt like it was tearing apart, and all he could do was silently weep, letting his tears fall where they may.

A hoot from an owl brought him back to reality. Draco blinked, slightly disorientated. Judging by the moon he had been there for quite awhile. Maybe he should just leave. The man probably wouldn't want to see him again little own help him.

It was stupid why had he come here in the first place? Was it because...no, Draco had left all those unwanted feelings behind. He wasn't here for him...was he? The owl hooted again. Draco spotted it sitting on the fence of the house two gates up. That must be the place. Otherwise why would the Weasley owl be seated there? Draco pushed himself to his feet with a grunt. He wiped the blood from his cut and began to hobble up to the house. The brown owl watched with a mild curiosity as he passed it. A golden number 12 rested over the dark wood of the door. He shouldn't have come here. It'll just bring back all those emotions, all those memories that he had been trying to dispose of. But he had no choice. Where else could he go? He needed help. And this was the only person who could give it to him. He knocked timidly on the door. After a few long seconds it came creeping open.

"...Draco?"