Of all the problems Draco faced, it was the inescapable cold that drained him most.

The biting wind whipped at his hair and cloak, as he walked the soaked Muggle street outside the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to hug the little remaining warmth to himself, but Draco's stiff hands kept grip on the trunk and owl cage dragging behind him.

Cars passed in a blur, sloshing water against road and gutters. Draco kept out of their path, unable to prevent water gathering at the hem of his trousers from merciless puddles. He'd never imagined there would be a time he'd wished for the company of a Muggle, especially when it's the reason he'd been cast out of Malfoy Manor to begin with.

Blaming Muggles was easier than admitting the truth; anger was all he had left.

Taking shelter under the awning of a closed book store, Draco groaned miserably at heavy rain pelting the path. Pulling a map from his pocket, the eleven-year-old's blue eyes squinted at street names and possible routes. He'd researched and asked around, but Draco couldn't explain how he knew where to go. Impossibly, a part of him just knew he had to get to Privet Drive.

He dropped onto the book store's step, muscles aching and mood worsening. Hanging his head, Draco bit his bottom lip to force himself not to cry. He was all alone in a downpour, without Muggle money or means of transport. He'd saved Galleons in secret for a month, before the Malfoys decided to stop pretending he was their son, but wizarding gold was no use to Muggles.

He was stranded and night was almost upon him.

'Are you lost, lad?'

Draco quickly looked up, relieved to see a cloaked woman holding a wand loosely at her side.

'No.' He stood, brushing himself off out of habit. 'Just got no Muggle money.'

'Where are your parents?'

Draco hesitated. She was elderly and didn't seem too dangerous. Ten years with the Malfoys taught him what sort of people were the least trustworthy if met in a street. He'd only been kicked out earlier that morning; Draco wasn't ready to accept he was a homeless orphan now - a discarded burden.

'Dead.' He managed to force the word out, while that truth forced its way inside his chest. 'I was going to stay with my aunt and uncle, but...' Again, he hesitated.

The witch might not pose immediate danger to him, but Draco didn't know if those who hated Muggles were the majority or not. Would she refuse to help if she knew he was going to live with Muggles?

'Not to worry.' The witch smiled, deepening her wrinkles. She looked at his owl cage and trunk, nodding. 'Just raise your wand and the Knight Bus will pick you up. It'll take you where you need to go for eleven sickles. Take care.'

She ducked under an umbrella and headed down the street, vanishing into the mist of angry weather.

Draco dragged his trunk and empty cage out onto the side of the road. Rain dripped from his head, soaking every inch of his clothes as cold squeezed his bones. Shivering, Draco raised his wand and hoped the witch was right. He knew what a bus was, but hadn't heard of the Knight Bus beyond a few mutterings of disapproval from Lucius Malfoy about the sort of people who travelled on it.

Having learned he was the son of a Mudblood, Draco accepted he was one of “those people” now.

With a BANG, a light blinded his already-obscured view and sent Draco falling backwards into a puddle. Growling in frustration, he glared up at the violet bus. Ignoring the conductor, Draco hurried aboard. He handed over money and sat on the nearest bed, wishing to sleep the horrible day away.

The bus lurched forward and Draco went flying to the floor. Wincing at his bruised elbow, he decided to hang on now and yell at them later. He wrapped himself around a bedpost the best he could, as the Knight Bus swerved and screeched its way through London. His queasy stomach did not appreciate the mode of transport, but Draco couldn't find energy to care when the bus abruptly halted in Privet Drive.

He was finally there.

Yanking his trunk and cage off the road, in case cars also zoomed around residential areas at night, Draco looked to either side with a frown. Were Muggle houses supposed to be so neat and identical? Defeated by his situation and mood, Draco sat on his trunk and raked hands through blond hair. Knocking on every door at night wasn't the best idea, but it was the only one he had left.

Looking at the house closest to him, Number Four, Draco noticed an owl flying away as if swooping from a window around the back. Jumping up, not believing his luck, he thought that had to be the one. He didn't know how common muggle-borns were in a Muggle street like Privet Drive, but Draco was confident he'd found the right house. Behind its door should be his twin brother, who Draco would be joining at Hogwarts in two weeks.

The problem was, Muggles scared him terribly.

He didn't want to knock and announce himself a wizard, not after countless stories told to him by the Malfoys. Draco learned the hard way that most of what the Malfoys said weren't true, so he had to try. It was night and he was soaked with nowhere to go; there really wasn't a better option.

Draco carefully approached the house. He propped the trunk beside the front door and placed his empty cage atop it. Straightening his clothes, and removing his waterlogged cloak to drape over the cage, Draco nervously raised his hand to knock.

There were muffled yells inside, distorted by sounds Draco struggled to determine, and the door opened. In front of him, with messy hair and green eyes, stood his twin.

'Hello?' the boy frowned.

The Malfoys instilled importance of first impressions, and Draco was failing every rule so far. He didn't care – he'd made it!

'Hello.' Draco exhaled. 'Are you Harry Potter?'

'I am.' He nodded, looking Draco up and down. 'Who are you?'

'I...' Draco paused, considering how he could possibly be believed.

There was so much to say, but he didn't know what Harry might have been told. There were a hundred ways he could start to explain, if only he could pick the one that sounded the least crazy. Harry might not even know he had a twin; Draco hadn't either.

He'd found his brother and, against all Malfoy-raised instincts, Draco decided to just spill the truth.

'I found out my parents aren't really my parents,' he hastily began. 'They stole me when I was a baby. My real parents are the same as yours. We're twins.'

'What?' Harry's eyes widened, glasses slipping lower.

Before Draco had time to work out how his brother was taking the news, a woman approached and glared down at them. He assumed that was his mother's sister, Petunia.

'What do you want?' she asked sharply.

That was a big question, and one Draco couldn't answer without losing composure.

'Do I have a brother?' Harry accused their aunt. 'Did you lie about that too?'

'Brother? What?' Petunia's eyes widened as she carefully examined Draco. Darting a glance around the street, she pointed sharply into the hallway. 'In!'

Draco barely managed to grab his trunk and cage before Petunia took hold of his shoulder and steered him into the house. Harry stepped aside to avoid getting knocked into a wall, keeping his gaze on Draco's luggage.

'I-' Draco tried to speak, but the woman wasn't having any of it as she shoved him and Harry into the living room. Petunia used something to turn off whatever lights and pictures were coming from the box behind Draco – he didn’t have the chance to look.

'Don't move. You're all wet.' She jabbed another finger at Draco, cringing at the floor.

He remained beside Harry, shifting nervously as he glanced around the Muggle house. Draco had never been in one before, and already saw many things he knew nothing about. He didn't miss that there were a lot of photos of a fat boy and none of his brother.

'Is he my brother?' Harry tried again, fists clenched.

Petunia shuddered, then hurried from the room.

Harry sank onto the couch and met Draco's gaze.

'What's your name?'

'Draco,' he answered. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came out. Draco had finally depleted the strength and focus that got him this far.

'Why're you wet?' Harry spoke quieter, eyes glancing to the doorway. 'How'd you find me?'

'It was raining.' Words spent, Draco lowered his trunk to sit on.

Hanging his head, he wondered what happened next. The Malfoys hadn't exactly warned him or given him much of a chance to survive on his own. The fact he'd found the Muggle house, and was let inside before night had completely fallen, was something of a miracle.

'Vernon and Dudley will be home any minute...' Petunia muttered, hurrying back into the room with a lump that must be the least nice towel they own. 'Upstairs, both of you. We'll sort this out in the morning.'

Draco grabbed his trunk and cage, following Harry up the stairs two at a time with Petunia ushering them faster. Entering the small bedroom, Draco was at loss of what to do. Beside the single bed was a thin mattress with a sickly-pale sheet and chunky pillow. It was as far from the standards of Malfoy Manor as could be.

'So it's true?' Harry dropped on his bed, which groaned at impact.

Petunia didn't ask questions; she'd just sent them upstairs. Draco was highly suspicious, but had no energy left to invest in his aunt's behaviour.

Dumping his trunk and owl cage near the closed door, he grabbed the first dry clothes he was fortunate enough to have with him. He saw Harry eyeing the black clothes he'd changed into, and Draco noticed his brother wore what he assumed were rag hand-offs from the fat boy in the pictures. It was exactly the sort of thing a Malfoy would be horrified by and mercilessly belittle, but Draco was determined to stop doing what Lucius Malfoy expected.

He was never a Malfoy and Draco needed to shed that life to figure out who he really was - starting with his name.

'I'm Draco Sirius Potter,' he said. 'I mean, I was when we were born.'

'What happened?' Harry stared at him.

'I don't know. Everything was a lie...' He sank beside his brother on the bed. 'I was kidnapped by a wizarding family. They tried to make me like them, into their perfect heir: horrible and selfish. I wasn't good enough so they told me the truth and kicked me out.'

'That's horrible.' Harry frowned. 'Who would do something like that?'

Draco loved them once. Not every day was a nightmare; there were times he was happy and cared for. The truth ruined every memory and confused each emotion associated with the Malfoys. He'd never been so lost.

'They hate me here too – lied to me too.' Harry stared at his feet. 'I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid came and told me. They lied about my family too. Oh, Hagrid's-'

'I know who Hagrid is.' Draco grit his teeth. 'Some things about Muggles are true then, if they'd keep that from you. What was that about your family?'

'How they died.' Harry paused, shoulders slumping. 'The Dursleys said it was a car crash. If you're my brother, then they're your parents too. It's our family.'

That was as much as Draco could handle. He slid off the bed, and crawled across the stiff mattress on the floor. He pressed his face into the pillow, which smelled of lemons and the unfamiliar.

'I'm sorry!' Harry landed beside him. 'I didn't mean to upset you or anything. I just thought-'

'It's not you.' Draco turned, facing the window. 'I found out this morning that my parents are dead, and the last ten years of my life are all lies. It's too much. I hate all of it.'

'Is there something I can do to help?' Harry asked quietly. 'Maybe we could talk about something else, like Hogwarts?'

Draco, despite everything, managed a small smile. 'I think...I just want to sleep. I want today to be over.'

'Okay.' Harry returned to his bed. 'I'm going to read for a while, if that's okay? I mean, I need the light on...'

'I don't care.' Draco shrugged, not about to admit his fear of the dark. 'We'll talk tomorrow.' He yawned into the lemony pillow.

'Night, Draco.'

Draco turned to look at his twin, still in disbelief he'd managed to find Harry and was given a place to stay – at least for the night, as the next morning could bring new problems. Until then, Draco believed he was where should be: sharing a room with his twin brother.

'Goodnight, Harry.'