Summary: Draco is sentenced to live in the muggle world without magic for 5 years. With few connections to the magical world, and a reluctance to integrate into this new world, his loneliness begins to take its toll. With the appearance of a mysterious orange kitty, followed shortly by its spunky owner, his world takes a turn for the better. Or, at least he thinks so at first, until he gets caught up in an elaborate lie that could ruin everything he cares about.

A/N: This is my very first fanfic, so please go easy! (Update: I've edited this first chapter, since it was written when my writing was really really rusty.)

Disclaimer: And of course J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter

Chapter 1: The Unwelcome Visitor

"Scratch-scratch."

Draco Malfoy sipped his coffee (black, the only way to drink coffee, in his opinion) and vaguely acknowledged the sound. The Daily Prophet had a stronger hold on his attention at that moment. The main headliner read: 'Lucious Malfoy released from Azkaban and to live under house-arrest'.

He briefly scanned through the first page of the article, stopping at a picture of his mother. Dressed in her finest robes and seated elegantly in what was left of their sitting room, her photograph-self gracefully moved to sip her tea. There was a quote underneath it. "No matter our past, we are a family. It will be wonderful to begin to feel like one again with his return." His mother was still holding things together for the family. She'd always been the strongest of them.

"Scratch-scratch."

Reluctantly, he raised his head in an attempt to locate the sound. He glanced at the nearby window where a decent view of central London greeted him. There were no birds in sight.

"Scratch-scratch." This time, he pinpointed the source as the door of his small apartment.

"Go away, whoever you are!" He shouted half-heartedly.

"Scratch-scratch-scratch."

Sighing in frustration, he set down the paper and walked slowly up to the door as he tied his robe closed over his pajama bottoms (bare torsos generally being considered inappropriate attire for answering doors). The door was thrown open in a quick motion. "Can I help you?!"

Really, he didn't know what he'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the something small and orange fleeing past his feet and into his living room. He spun on his heel. "What the-" he started. His eyes settled onto what was obviously a cat, albeit a half hidden one, huddled under his favorite chair. Approaching the chair hesitantly, he proceeded to kneel down. "Here kitty, kitty, kitty," he whispered, shuffling closer and closer.

The cat retreated further under the chair. "Damn".

Draco lay sideways on the ground in his effort to reach the cat. It's far to early for this, he thought to himself, sighing in annoyance. Soft fur brushed his fingertips. "Aha!" He cried as he finally grabbed it by the scruff of its neck. It dug its claws into the ground as he pulled it out. Once it was freed, Draco did a double-take. What had seemed small as it ran past him in a blur was definitely not when held motionless in front of him. Its bottom feet were hanging freely so that he had a good view of it. Huge. Orange. Mangy. Reminds me of one of those burly Weasley boys.

Despite the time he'd spent living here, he didn't know anyone on his floor, or even in the whole 12 story complex, for that matter, much less who's cat this was. And he didn't know the first thing about cats. Was he even holding it properly? It was scowling fairly heavily, and so he assumed that no, he was not holding it properly. As he pulled it closer and placed one of his arms underneath its feet it stopped squirming. A scratch behind its ears and he was rewarded with the beginnings of a purr.

Walking past the dining table where the momentarily forgotten Prophet lay, he stopped at the refrigerator still holding the mangy thing.

The mystery cat was set up with some milk, and it set to work lapping it up while Draco debated what to do. He absentmindedly stroked its fur (he was pleasantly surprised at its softness) as he considered his options. He could wander the halls looking for the owner, or...he could assume it had been abandoned and take it to a shelter. Or he could keep it for himself. Once the cat finished, he went to pick it up again. In doing so, he noticed the sleeves on his robe. They were covered in orange cat hair. Oh no you don't... He thought, snapping back to reality. Grabbing it, he threw the poor thing unceremoniously out his front door.

"Go home." The cat stared mournfully at him. "I know you know where it is." He shut the door and headed back to the kitchen, trying to remember what he had been doing before he'd been paid a visit by his furry new friend.

A half hour later, Draco was putting the finishing touches on his appearance. He wore a secondhand suit that didn't fit him quite properly. He looked fairly decent though -If he didn't lift his arms at all. Or move his legs. Running his comb through, he tried once more to smooth his hair into a neat side part. It didn't want to obey without the aid of magic, and a stubborn clump stuck up towards the back. He finally gave up and turned away.

He grabbed his overcoat, his umbrella, and his briefcase, and headed to the door balancing them precariously. As he walked through the front door, he tripped over some unknown object and almost dropped his umbrella.

"Nice save", a voice called from down the hall. Glancing a few doors over, he and saw a young woman who had just come out of her apartment locking up. She was pretty, with long brown hair and cute figure that was being shown off in a form fitting dress. Giving her a polite smile, he proceeded to close and lock his own door. He immediately headed down the hallway to the elevator, hoping to discourage the girl from initiating any more contact. He couldn't have that.

To his dismay, she fell into step beside him. "So, are you new around here? I haven't seen you before."

"No."

She waited, hoping he would elaborate. When he didn't, she said, "oh, well, I guess we've just missed each running into each other so far. How long have you been here?"

"About six months. I don't get out much." Now they were riding in the same elevator. There was no escape. He made an effort not to look at her at all.

"I see. Well, I know it's long overdue, but I'm Amelia. I moved in a couple months ago. Nice to meet you, neighbor." She stuck out her hand in a friendly gesture. He took it awkwardly, still not looking at her.

"Draco." He pressed the ground floor button.

"Unusual name, that. Is it foreign?"

He sighed. "You could say that." You have no idea how foreign of a world it is...

"You off to your job?" She was pretty, but she could not take a hint, and it was getting on his nerves.

"No. An Interview." He looked desperately at the doors waiting for them to open.

"Oh," She said her eyes widening. "Well, then good luck! I hope it goes well!" The doors opened. At this heartfelt wish, his intention of immediately dashing off was replaced with a warm feeling of gratitude for the first kind words he'd heard in months.

"Thanks. Me too." He gave her a sincere smile, his cheek muscles rusty from non-use. Then he dashed off.

The interview had not gone well. It was probably influenced by his bad mood (Did the prophet really have to publish that particular article today?), or the orange cat hair that had somehow ended up on his suit, but he knew it was his lack of experience that was ultimately to blame. He approached his apartment complex weary and unfocused, and almost ran into a girl carrying several moving boxes. "Sorry," he muttered as he moved around her. She stared at him strangely. He caught sight his reflection in the glass doors of the complex as he approached and saw how haggard he looked. No wonder she was staring. He walked through and didn't bother holding the door open for her.

Once inside his apartment, he headed straight to the liquor cabinet. He settled on the couch with a glass of gin, turned on the T.V, and began flipping channels. It was just past noon though, and nothing he liked was on. After draining his cup, he turned off the television. What he needed was a good nap. He rolled onto his back and soon he had drifted off, snoring slightly.

Soft, padded feet made their way over to his sleeping form. They jumped lightly onto the couch. They kneaded a bit. And then they too settled down for a good nap.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please Read and Review!