chapter 1

Harry sat alone on the thin window seal in his room and looked up at the faint stars. He knew if he was caught being up so late again Vernon would have a fit worse than last time. He couldn't help it though. Tonight was the full moon and he had been waiting all month for it. Since being locked up so often this summer, he had recently found a new habit of looking up at the stars.

He watched as dark storm clouds blow in and cover the sky. His mouth formed a frown. He had made sure to read the paper beforehand. It wasn't supposed to rain for nearly two more days.

Given up his plans for the night, he decided to go back to bed when something caught his eye. A streak of silver flew past his window and into the midnight abyss. A catching star, Harry thought.

He walked back to the window in an injured grunt. His shin and ankle were still badly bruised from the night before along with some of his arms and chest. There were also many more before that but he decided to put those thoughts away for the time being. You didn't see a falling star that often. It was quite the once in a lifetime event.

He closed his eyes quickly and thought of a wish. It wasn't hard, really. The real problem was picking only one to act on.

There was Cedric.

Then Sirius.

His parents.

The Dursleys.

The list went on. It was quite sad. How many people wanted to meet or be this 'savior' when in reality they knew nothing of what lay beneath his lightning bolt scar? He was nothing but a lost shell of this image they had produced and worshipped.

"Get me out of here," he wishes. "Please." Whether that was for the roof he was under currently, or something else entirely, he didn't know.

Draco's gut plummeted as soon as he got back to his room. He knew it was to happen eventually, but not so soon. Couldn't they have at least waited until he was out of school? Or when he was an adult even? He gripped his blonde hair and let out a choked sob. He wouldn't-, No he couldn't do this. It was crazy. He was only sixteen for Merlin's sake.

Tears racked the boy's small body as his back slid down the wall and to the floor. He was no longer the pristine boy he pretended to be and he knew it. Everything he ever did was to please him, never himself. Yet it was still never enough. No matter how cold or crude he became to be, his father would still have something to criticize.

Malfoys don't cry, his father's words rang in his ears from when he was five years old and just fell off his quidditch broom. He didn't understand the tone and threat in his voice at the time but more so when he grew older. Malfoys don't show emotion.

Bitter tears fell onto his lips when he laughed to himself. 'Too late for that now.'

The back of his nose burned from the emotion that was wracking through his body. He was lucky to have soundproof walls in his room. If he didn't, his father would most likely use the Cruciatus curse on him again for causing a scene. So he used this to advantage. He picked up the nearest item and threw it at the wall. Luckily, it was only a pillow.

He was just so angry. Why didn't his mother help him? Perhaps she wanted this as well. The thought tore him to pieces. He couldn't confide in anyone for this. He was utterly alone. But maybe that was for the best.

The room was dark except for the soft moonlight coming from his open window. Distant owl screeches played far in the distance. It seemed everything was calm beside the crying boy on the floor.

Slowly he sat up and wandered over to the green and silver window seat. He needed to see it again. To make sure it was real and not some twisted nightmare.

The moonlight did no justice to his already pale skin and puffy red eyes. Most of the tears hadn't even dried yet and moved farther down his face as he moved. He was too emotionally drained to wipe them away right then. Instead, he looked down at his white dress-shirt sleeves and pushed the left side all the way up to his elbows. His hands shook wildly in the process.

Draco covered his mouth with his hand to hold back a sob. Right on his forearm was the one thing in his arm he despised the most. The black ink danced on his ghost-like skin. It was a sore thumb to the rest of him and would be for the rest of his life.

He clenched his tear soaked eyes shut in pain. "Get me out of here," a small whisper leaves his trembling lips. Unbeknownst to him, a small streak of silver passes by his window and back to the abyss just as quick.

"Please."