A/N: This is my first Drarry fic. Please bear with me as I usually write Snarry. I'm writing this for a friend as per request and will try my best to make it a good story :) I'm looking forward to writing it and I hope you enjoy! -Phantomdeath

Chapter 1: Is That Him

"Dammit Draco!"

"I'm sorry, father, I'm sorry!" Draco pleaded as his father raised his belt to whip him again.

"You nearly cost me my place with the Dark Lord! How dare you try to step to Severus's defense?! What the hell possessed you?"

"He IS my godfather, and professor after all! I see the shit—" A hard smack in the face cut him off.

"Language!" Lucius hissed. Draco lowered his eyes to the ground. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his jaw and the blood running from his lips. "I've told you before and I'll tell you again: Never make me look bad, ESPECIALLY not when we are before the Dark Lord! Sectumsempra!" He hit Draco in the chest with the spell and left the room.

Draco lay motionless on the floor until he was sure his father wouldn't return. He grabbed his wand and muttered the counter-curse. Not a sound of pain escaped him. He pushed himself off the floor, swayed on his feet, and walked up to his room. He threw everything he could into his trunk and shrunk it. Draco put it in his pocket and stowed his wand. He knew his dad had wards around the house, making the traces of magic invisible to the ministry, so the fact that he was underage didn't matter.

What does my father care if I run away? I've been ready before, but this is the closest I've gotten. Bet Potter doesn't have to deal with this shit… He thought as he tip-toed down the stairs. Draco saw his mum sitting alone in their front room and walked in with a finger to his lips. She nodded as he approached and hugged her. "I have to go, mother," he whispered. She nodded again. "I'll take care of myself. Don't let him hurt you. You can go somewhere, okay? You don't have to try to protect me anymore. She looked at her son, studying the bleeding lip, the bruises blossoming over a large portion of his face, the slash through his shirt that revealed an angry cut—all that remained form the spell cast minutes ago. Tears stung at both their eyes as the clock upstairs chimed.

"I love you, Draco," she whispered.

"I love you too, mum," he said as he hugged her one last time and disappeared through the door. The sun was just about to slip beneath the horizon. Draco put up his glamours and set off toward the furthest place to which he could walk from his home. He wasn't sure where exactly he'd ended up, but he assumed he would eventually come to a place to stay. He figured he had enough money to buy a room in a hotel and plan what to do from there. The only hotel he found was a cheaper muggle one in a far off town from his home. The employees weren't allowed to give someone so young a room but his charisma helped him sway them.

When he opened the door to the room, the odor of cigarettes assaulted his nose. It wrinkled on its own accord as he shut the door behind him and fell onto the bed. He kicked off his shoes and stared at the ceiling, wondering where to go from here. His stomach rumbled but he ignored it. When was the last time I ate? Sunday? What's today—Thursday. Hm. His eyebrows shot up in mild surprise that he was able to make it this long without food. He got up from the bed and stripped before the bathroom mirror, looking at his ribs reflection. They were marred with old scars and new cuts made by his own hand. He hungered to feel the blade again. Draco's trunk returned to normal size and he riffled through it, searching for his potions knife. When he located it, he sunk it into the flesh of his left wrist. Blood surged forth to meet the musty air, it poured down the sides of his arm and splashed on the white tile floor below. He reveled in the pain and relief the bite of the blade brought. Dizziness encompassed him and he struggled to stay standing. Food, was his last conscious thought before he fainted on the bathroom floor. He landed with a splat in a puddle of his own blood.

Harry sat in his room on Privet Drive. He didn't want to think about Sirius, or Hogwarts, the Dursleys, not even flying. But all the haunting thoughts of his godfather falling though the veil plagued his mind. He pulled out his potions knife and mindlessly sliced into his left hip. His body didn't register the pain so he moved on to his ankles and wrists. The motions were so old he did them in his sleep. Whatever the Dursleys didn't do, he did to himself. Harry almost laughed when he tried to imagine what the other people at Hogwarts thought his did over his summer. They'd be shocked to know that he sat in a lonely room with locks on the outside of the door, waiting for the next time he got a meal. He groaned and pushed himself off his bed, blood dripping softly behind him. He looked out at the starry sky, wishing to disappear of into it, melt into the night and be forgotten. Harry knew he wouldn't sleep and that his relatives were no doubt in their beds. By sheer luck, they'd forgotten to lock his door. He walked downstairs, cautiously, and flipped on the TV. Some late night local news was on. They were filming in front of an old hotel. Harry remembered when he wanted to run away and tried to stay there, he was turned away for being too young. Just before he changed the channel, a pale blonde boy in the background of the shot caught his eye. Draco? He squinted at the screen and tried to pick out any features, but the anchor had already said her bit and commercials came on.

Harry wasn't sure if he'd actually seen Draco, but he wanted to be sure it wasn't him. He pulled on a pair of jeans that fit him decently and a t-shirt. I need to know why he's here, Harry thought as he silently slipped into the night.