Would Draco's sixth year have gone differently if someone had reached out to him? Peer into Draco's mind as he goes through this pivotal point. It is a year of extreme importance, and everything should be running smoothly. Unfortunately for our hero, an insistant redhead keeps disrupting his plans and making him doubt his intentions. Is Ginny enough to save Draco from the dark path he's traversing? Maybe.
Categories: Works in Progress Characters:
Blaise Zabini (boy), Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, Other Characters, Pansy Parkinson, Severus Snape
OotP and belowEra:
Drama, Humor, RomanceWarnings:
Apr 17, 2009 Updated:
May 13, 2009
1. 1. Glory, Pride, and Encounters of the Humiliating Variety by ClairdeLune
2. 2. Startling News in the Slytherin Compartment by ClairdeLune
1. Glory, Pride, and Encounters of the Humiliating Variety by ClairdeLune
So this is different from anything else I've written in the HP universe because it's in first person, in Draco's POV. You see, I wanted to show that the whole snarky thing is just an act. Draco is actually a very sweet boy. Ok... not really. But he's not quite as bad as he seems. Sometimes. Well, you can read for yourself and decide. Enjoy the first chapter!
Oh, and just a side note. The italicized sections are flashbacks. :)
I sauntered through the Hogwarts Express, my school robes swishing with every step I took. Students shrunk away as I walked past, eager to stay out of my way. Their faces showed awe and fear at my presence, and rightly so. After all, I was much more powerful than they were. And I was almost certainly better than them at everything. And of course there were my devilish good looks to consider. It must have been very intimidating to look at someone so incredibly attractive.
Of course by this point, I was far more powerful than their pitiful minds could comprehend. The Dark Lord had singled me out of the vast array of servants he had at his disposal. He had recognized traits that would make me the perfect person to carry out this imperative task. The mark on my slightly sore arm was proof that the Dark Lord trusted me. It was an incredible honor and I felt proud to bear his sign. The only thing marring my moment of glory was my mother’s reaction to the news.
“What did He want?” Mother asked as soon as I appeared in the Manor. It was obvious by her tone and expression that she had been anxiously awaiting my arrival. She looked like that often these days. Ever since Father’s imprisonment, she was never at ease.
I smiled slightly, comforted by the fact that my news would console her. No longer were the Malfoys a humiliation to the Dark Lord. “It’s good news, Mother,” I announced, my voice slightly smug. And why shouldn’t it have been? I had every right to feel proud of myself.
“Oh?” she asked, seeming doubtful.
I nodded firmly. “I have been recruited by the Dark Lord,” I proudly explained.
Instead of looking pleased, Mother blanched. “You are going to receive the Mark?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
A slight frown appeared on my face. She wasn’t taking the news the way I had thought she would. “Yes,” I replied slowly. “The Dark Lord feels it is necessary for me to be an official Death Eater.”
“And why does He feel that way?” Her voice was deathly quiet, and slightly menacing. I suppressed a shudder at the hidden animosity in her tone.
“Because I am to carry out an important task for Him.” I almost winced. I hadn’t meant to sound so surly.
Mother closed her eyes, looking as though her worst nightmare had come true. “What do you have to do?” I explained that I was to make the school accessible for Death Eaters to infiltrate at a designated time. Mother listened with a stony expression as I spoke. But when I told her that I was to kill Dumbledore myself, she gave a weak moan and sank into an armchair, covering her face with her hands.
“Mother,” I said sharply, slightly alarmed.
She didn’t appear to have heard me. “He took Lucius away from me. That was bad enough. And now He has the gall to take you away from me as well. He’s despicable.”
“Mother! You can’t speak of the Dark Lord that way,” I admonished.
She looked straight at me, her expression fierce. “The monster has ripped apart my family. I will speak of Him however I wish,” she spat out.
I blinked, utterly nonplussed. This wasn’t going at all the way I had hoped it would. Perhaps comfort would work better. I sat down in a chair next to her. “No one is taking me away from you, Mother. Nothing is going to happen to me,” I told her in my firmest voice.
But she just smiled a sad smile. “You’re wrong, Draco. Even if somehow, miraculously, everything goes according to plan, you will still be hurt.” I gave her a confused look. Just what was she talking about now? “Taking a person’s life will change you, my son, and not for the better.”
I actually snorted. “You seem to be forgetting that the person I’ll be killing is Dumbledore.”
Mother shook her head. “It doesn’t matter who it is. Murder changes a person. It certainly changed your father.” She sighed. “That’s why He’s doing this, you know. To get back at Lucius for failing Him. He wants to hurt Lucius by hurting you.”
I bristled. Did she really think it was so impossible for Him to pick me because I was talented? “He chose me because He understood that I would be a valuable ally,” I retorted angrily.
“I’ve wounded your pride,” Mother said with another sad smile. “I should’ve guessed that you wouldn’t believe me. You’re still so young. You’re naive. All too soon, you’ll know better.” The last sentence was spoken in a bitter tone. I scowled and opened my mouth to respond, but she beat me to it. “I’m going out,” she said suddenly, as if coming to a decision.
“Where?” I asked suspiciously.
“It’s no concern of yours, Draco,” she dismissed. I hated when she treated me like this, like I was still a child. Without looking at me again, she retrieved a cloak and Disapparated with a pop, leaving me to my jumbled thoughts.
I never did find out where she went that day, as she refused to tell me. But when she returned she seemed relieved somehow. This made me suspicious, but when I badgered her about it, she treated me to one of her “Mother” looks. And though I had just been picked to be a servant to the most powerful wizard alive, that glare did not fail to intimidate me. Well, I would prove her wrong, I reasoned. I would successfully carry out the Dark Lord’s plan. And once Dumbledore was dead and the Malfoy honor was restored, I would go to see Mother. Then she could see that killing the doddering old fool hadn’t changed me at all.
My musings were interrupted just then as a compartment door slid open and Ginny Weasley walked out. Like a hunter sensing its prey, I immediately perked up. Ah, how fortuitous. The youngest Weasley was one of my favorite victims. She was vulnerable. So easy to manipulate and antagonize. She was walking toward me, oblivious to my presence. It was time for me to play. As she reached me, Weasley looked up and saw me. “Weasel,” I drawled in greeting, making my voice as cruel and cutting as possible.
Then, an extraordinary thing happened. Instead of cowering, as I had expected, the girl glared at me, eyes flashing with dislike. “Ferret,” she retaliated curtly. Her tone was laced with derision almost powerful enough to match my own. Where was the fear? Where were the tears? What on earth had happened to Weasley?
This unsettling turn of events caused me to act in a way that I am deeply ashamed of. Instead of insulting her or her family, as was my custom, I stared at her. I stared blankly, and with slightly widened eyes. I must have looked so idiotic. Still handsome, of course, but undeniably foolish. Her behavior was so unprecedented that I truly did not know how to react.
Sensing my shock, Weasley’s eyes glittered with malicious amusement. She gave me a smirk worthy of a Malfoy’s and brushed past me. She walked away without another glance. I should have insulted her then. I should have made a comment so hurtful that it would haunt her until the end of her days. Or, barring that, I should have at least tripped her. But I did neither of those things. My momentary paralysis forced me to stare at her receding back until she was out of my sight.
As soon as she was gone, I came to. With my return to normalcy, I felt a sense of horror. Embarrassment curled deep in my stomach. This was ridiculous! A Malfoy shouldn’t feel things like that. It was an outrage. I attempted to make sense out of why I had reacted so strongly to her.
Yes, it was surprising that Weasley had managed to become more courageous. But it shouldn’t have flabbergasted me. And it wasn’t the insult. I had plenty of enemies and got insulted on a regular basis. I was rarely affronted by it. No, that was not it at all. I realized it was the way she had insulted me. No one had ever managed to speak with such vehemence to me. The intensity of her passion had overwhelmed me.
Well, she certainly wouldn’t catch me off-guard again. I was a Death Eater! I was a powerful, influential wizard! Right then and there, I swore that Weasley would pay for the humiliation she had caused me. I would make her life miserable. From this point on, I would always have the last word.
2. Startling News in the Slytherin Compartment by ClairdeLune
First of all, thank you to Embellished and Anise for reviewing!
And I know there were other reviews, which were unfortunately deleted while the site was being updated. I'm sorry they were deleted, but thank you for reviewing!
So this next chapter includes sections of conversations that were in HBP. All of that material belongs J.K. Rowling, not myself! I simply used a bit of her amazing writing because it was important to the plot.
So without further ado, chapter 2. Enjoy!
After my somewhat disconcerting encounter with the youngest Weasel, I rather felt that I needed to be pampered. That would explain why, at the moment, I was allowing Pansy to touch me. Usually, I tended to keep her at arm’s length. Pure-blood she might be, but the girl was an irritating harpy. In this one instance, though, I was making an exception. My head was in her lap, and she was stroking my hair with an almost reverent expression. Good, I mused. I was glad that she understood what an honor I was giving her.
The compartment door opened then, and Zabini entered. He had some trouble getting the door closed. It wasn’t budging for some reason. Then it flew open and Zabini was thrust into Goyle’s lap. What an imbecile, I thought in amused disdain. But as he and Goyle snarled at each other, I saw a flash of shoes appear out of nowhere, disappearing as soon as they’d appeared. I sat up, startled. How interesting. That wasn’t the first time I’d seen body parts materialize. And if I wasn’t quite mistaken, those shoes belonged to the same person whose disembodied head I had spied once in Hogsmeade.
I decided not to mention anything then. I would have fun with the little sneak later. By this time, things had settled down somewhat. I snorted once to show my contempt for the situation and all parties involved and lay back down. “So, Zabini, what did Slughorn want?”
“Just trying to make up to well-connected people,” he replied, still looking irritated at Goyle. “Not that he managed to find many.”
What? Well-connected people? Why hadn’t I been summoned? My stomach churned with resentment. “Who else had he invited?” Surely, no one as well-connected as I was.
“McLaggen from Gryffindor,” said Zabini.
That was understandable. “Oh yeah, his uncle’s big in the Ministry.”
“Someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw-”
“Not him, he’s a prat!” said Pansy. I’d never heard of him. That meant he couldn’t be very well-connected.
“-and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl,” finished Zabini.
I sat up and knocked Pansy’s hand aside. The time for grooming was over. “He invited Longbottom?” I asked in disgust.
“Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there,” said Zabini indifferently. That was ridiculous. Who in their right mind would include Longbottom in a group of well-connected people?
“What’s Longbottom got to interest Slughorn?” I asked angrily. Zabini shrugged. Setting aside the absurdity that was Longbottom’s apparent rise in society, I turned my thoughts to the other person who had merited an invitation from Slughorn. “Potter, precious Potter, obviously he wanted a look at the Chosen One,” I sneered, for the benefit of the eavesdropper. No doubt the statement would grate on his nerves.
Now who had been the last person Zabini mentioned? My stomach lurched unpleasantly as I remembered. Weasley was supremely talented at antagonizing me, it would seem, for even the mention of her name was enough to make me squirm in shame. I couldn’t let the others know that, though. Perhaps I would nonchalantly mention her and let the insults flow. That would certainly make me feel better. “That Weasley girl! What’s so special about her?"There, I thought proudly. That was a nice opener for a whole slew of insults about her character.
“A lot of boys like her,” Pansy said. “Even you think she’s good-looking, don’t you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!” I could have smacked Pansy. That was definitely not what I’d had in mind. I wanted to hear about how worthless she was, not how pretty she was! Although, now that I thought about it, she was quite attractive. I almost gasped out loud after thinking that. Benevolent thoughts about Weasley were not allowed! How dare she, I fumed. That red-headed brat had made me think a complimentary thought about her!
“I wouldn’t touch a filthy little blood traitor like her whatever she looked like,” said Zabini coldly. I felt slightly relieved by the comment. She was a blood traitor, Zabini was absolutely right about that. Weasley wasn’t worth all this trouble. I needed to relax. Laying back down on Pansy’s lap, I allowed her to resume her grooming. I wasn’t completely at ease though, because I’d noticed that Zabini hadn’t denied that Weasley was good-looking.
~ ~ ~
The remainder of the trip was spent discussing my grand plans for the year. I was wary not to disclose anything concrete though, because I was fully aware that Potter was taking careful notice of everything he heard. He would earn his just rewards soon enough. After the train stopped, I told the rest to go on without me. As soon as they’d left, I shot a quick paralyzing spell at the luggage rack where I assumed Potter was hiding.
I gave a satisfied smile as he fell down at my feet, frozen in a comical position. This was going to be fun. “I thought so,” I said smugly. “I heard Goyle’s trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash through the air after Zabini came back…” Potter glared at me hatefully. My smile grew even wider. I probably resembled the Cheshire Cat by now. “You didn’t hear anything I care about, Potter. But while I’ve got you here…” I stomped on his face, feeling his nose break under my foot. “That’s from my father,” I said grimly. “Now, let’s see…” I took his Invisibility Cloak and covered him with it. “I don’t reckon they’ll find you till the train’s back in London. See you around, Potter… or not.” Without another word, I walked out of the compartment. The day was looking up.
Things went perfectly for a little while. All of Slytherin House rejoiced at my success. Even seeing Potter skulk into the Great Hall didn’t ruin my mood, as it just gave me more chances to irritate him. But as I was replaying my victory to my delighted audience, I felt eyes boring into me. Glancing at the Gryffindor table, I saw Ginny Weasley glaring at me in disgust. My elation instantly dissipated. And that wasn’t all. I felt a tendril of something, some emotion that I was really not used to. It took me a while to place it, but I almost cringed when I recognized it. Guilt. How awful. Weasley seemed to read the emotion on my face, which was unnerving. Usually people were unable to see through my mask of indifference. She turned away then, looking like she’d accomplished something. And she had, I suppose, as I spent the rest of the evening wondering if I’d done the right thing on the Hogwarts Express. Damn that girl.
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