Draco Malfoy was wandering aimlessly through the halls of Hogwarts. He had been doing this a lot lately. Just walking. He didn’t have a destination or a reason to walk around. Most of the time he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
Times like now. His mind was wandering, too. He didn’t see the rooms he was passing or the curious stares he was getting from the other students. He was just walking. Not even thinking any actual thoughts. He bounced from subject to subject with no real order or pattern.
He had been this way ever since the previous year, when he had refused to kill Dumbledore for the Dark Lord. Well, technically, he hadn’t refused. You don’t just say no to Lord Voldemort, after all. He just hadn’t obeyed.
Lucius Malfoy had been livid. A Death Eater himself, he had wanted his only son to follow in his footsteps. A command to kill someone straight from the Dark Lord, in Lucius’ eyes, was the best thing his son could hope to receive.
But Draco hadn’t done it. He had been tempted, of course. The Dark side had a lot to offer. But, in the end, he couldn’t. He wasn’t evil. He couldn’t just kill another person, no matter how much he disliked him.
That summer had been miserable. Lucius had hardly spoken to his son, except to tell him how disappointed he was. What a failure he’s become. Narcissa Malfoy had fretted constantly. She was convinced that Lord Voldemort would come after Draco now.
He hadn’t, of course. The Dark Lord had more important things to worry about than the disappointing sons of Death Eaters. Destroying Potter and taking over the wizarding world were the dearest things to his heart. Or rather, where his heart would be, if he had one.
Professor Snape, after killing Dumbledore when it became apparent that Draco would not, had fled the school and been returned to a place of honor at the Dark Lord’s side. He now held the position of Headmaster at Hogwarts. Lucius took great pleasure in reminding Draco that “it could have been you”.
I don’t want it to be me, Draco thought to himself miserably. I want my own power. Not be subservient forever to some half-human Lord! But how do you tell your father that you don’t agree with his ideas and would rather not join forces with him? That sort of thing didn’t come in handbooks.
Draco wasn’t sure what he wanted, anyway. On the one hand, he didn’t want to fight for evil, but did he necessarily want to fight for good? Voldemort was powerful, to be sure, and Draco didn’t relish the idea of being against him. Self-preservation was extremely important to him, as a Slytherin.
But what, then? You can’t stay neutral in a war like this for long. Eventually he would have to choose a side. Everyone would.
This whole thing with the Dark Lord had Draco rethinking everything. What purpose was anything anymore?
If you worked for the Dark Lord, you were completely his. A servant. Only a step above the Muggles Voldemort wanted to control. Ever part of your life was dictated to you in order to further his means. He was the one who would get all of the power out of a victory. He was the one people would remember. Not his group of faceless Death Eaters.
If you were against him, every minute was filled with worry and uncertainty. Never knowing if this was to be your last day. Would Voldemort be around that corner? Behind that tree?
No one was safe anymore. Draco had seen the Dark Lord kill a Death Eater in the same way he’d killed a Muggle. He had no respect of persons. Only power mattered. Only the ability to control the people.
Draco sighed, then glanced around in surprise. “What?” he said to the empty corridor. Once again, he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. He didn’t remember even leaving the common room. He began berating himself for continuously getting himself in this position.
He would have made quite a sight, had anyone been around to see it. Standing alone, in the middle of an empty hall, gaping about like an idiot, mumbling under his breath. No doubt, he would have been teased mercilessly for this.
Finally he shook his head and took note of his surroundings. 7th floor, he observed. I’m around the corner from the Room of Requirement. He took out his watch and checked the time.
He cursed in frustration. It was past curfew. Naturally. Nothing ever went wrong on its own. It all had to come in twos and threes. Lucky I didn’t run into any teachers. That would have been brilliant. A detention in my first couple of weeks back at school.
Doubting he would be lucky enough to make it back to the Slytherin common room so easily, he directed his steps in the direction of the Room of Requirement. He walked past the empty wall three times, thinking carefully, I need a place to sleep.
The door appeared, and Draco pushed it open. He suddenly realized how tired he was. The door felt like it weighed a ton and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. It took a lot of extra energy to get inside than usual.
He sighed and pulled his robes tighter around himself. It was kind of cold in the room. Why isn’t the fire going? he wondered absently.
He was halfway across the room before he saw her. She was laying on the couch, directly in front of the fireplace. Her robes were twisted around her legs and her red hair fanned out over the pillow. A book lay abandoned in her lap. One hand covered the book; her knuckles were bruised and scratched with a bit of dried blood under her fingernails.
Ginny Weasley! his thoughts screamed. Why does she have to be in here now?
He started to turn around and leave, but something made him stop. Maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion, or that he didn’t want to run into any professors. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t want to leave. It was late and he was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.
He looked around the room to see what had been provided. He didn’t see another couch, but there was an armchair next to the dying fire, and, without taking his eyes from the Weasley girl, Draco quietly moved toward it. He sat down cautiously and was glad to find that it the chair was comfortable. Well, it was better than nothing, at least.
He studied Ginny’s face for a minute. She was actually kind of pretty, in a wild sort of way, when she was asleep. Her mouth formed a soft smile, as if she were having good dreams. Suddenly realizing what he was thinking, that he was actually admiring her, Draco sat rigid in his chair and shook his head.
This is Weasley, here! he told himself sternly. Then he noticed the way her eyelashes brushed her cheeks and the shine of her hair in the half light. It wasn’t just red, but a whole range of colours from copper to red to gold. It looked much better on her than on her brothers.
Arg! He stood up off the chair quickly, thoroughly angry with himself for his ridiculous thoughts. The chair banged backwards and crashed into the fire tools. These, in turn, fell to the floor with what seemed to Draco to be the loudest sound possible.
Ginny stirred. Oh, no! he thought wildly.
Times like now. His mind was wandering, too. He didn’t see the rooms he was passing or the curious stares he was getting from the other students. He was just walking. Not even thinking any actual thoughts. He bounced from subject to subject with no real order or pattern.
He had been this way ever since the previous year, when he had refused to kill Dumbledore for the Dark Lord. Well, technically, he hadn’t refused. You don’t just say no to Lord Voldemort, after all. He just hadn’t obeyed.
Lucius Malfoy had been livid. A Death Eater himself, he had wanted his only son to follow in his footsteps. A command to kill someone straight from the Dark Lord, in Lucius’ eyes, was the best thing his son could hope to receive.
But Draco hadn’t done it. He had been tempted, of course. The Dark side had a lot to offer. But, in the end, he couldn’t. He wasn’t evil. He couldn’t just kill another person, no matter how much he disliked him.
That summer had been miserable. Lucius had hardly spoken to his son, except to tell him how disappointed he was. What a failure he’s become. Narcissa Malfoy had fretted constantly. She was convinced that Lord Voldemort would come after Draco now.
He hadn’t, of course. The Dark Lord had more important things to worry about than the disappointing sons of Death Eaters. Destroying Potter and taking over the wizarding world were the dearest things to his heart. Or rather, where his heart would be, if he had one.
Professor Snape, after killing Dumbledore when it became apparent that Draco would not, had fled the school and been returned to a place of honor at the Dark Lord’s side. He now held the position of Headmaster at Hogwarts. Lucius took great pleasure in reminding Draco that “it could have been you”.
I don’t want it to be me, Draco thought to himself miserably. I want my own power. Not be subservient forever to some half-human Lord! But how do you tell your father that you don’t agree with his ideas and would rather not join forces with him? That sort of thing didn’t come in handbooks.
Draco wasn’t sure what he wanted, anyway. On the one hand, he didn’t want to fight for evil, but did he necessarily want to fight for good? Voldemort was powerful, to be sure, and Draco didn’t relish the idea of being against him. Self-preservation was extremely important to him, as a Slytherin.
But what, then? You can’t stay neutral in a war like this for long. Eventually he would have to choose a side. Everyone would.
This whole thing with the Dark Lord had Draco rethinking everything. What purpose was anything anymore?
If you worked for the Dark Lord, you were completely his. A servant. Only a step above the Muggles Voldemort wanted to control. Ever part of your life was dictated to you in order to further his means. He was the one who would get all of the power out of a victory. He was the one people would remember. Not his group of faceless Death Eaters.
If you were against him, every minute was filled with worry and uncertainty. Never knowing if this was to be your last day. Would Voldemort be around that corner? Behind that tree?
No one was safe anymore. Draco had seen the Dark Lord kill a Death Eater in the same way he’d killed a Muggle. He had no respect of persons. Only power mattered. Only the ability to control the people.
Draco sighed, then glanced around in surprise. “What?” he said to the empty corridor. Once again, he had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there. He didn’t remember even leaving the common room. He began berating himself for continuously getting himself in this position.
He would have made quite a sight, had anyone been around to see it. Standing alone, in the middle of an empty hall, gaping about like an idiot, mumbling under his breath. No doubt, he would have been teased mercilessly for this.
Finally he shook his head and took note of his surroundings. 7th floor, he observed. I’m around the corner from the Room of Requirement. He took out his watch and checked the time.
He cursed in frustration. It was past curfew. Naturally. Nothing ever went wrong on its own. It all had to come in twos and threes. Lucky I didn’t run into any teachers. That would have been brilliant. A detention in my first couple of weeks back at school.
Doubting he would be lucky enough to make it back to the Slytherin common room so easily, he directed his steps in the direction of the Room of Requirement. He walked past the empty wall three times, thinking carefully, I need a place to sleep.
The door appeared, and Draco pushed it open. He suddenly realized how tired he was. The door felt like it weighed a ton and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. It took a lot of extra energy to get inside than usual.
He sighed and pulled his robes tighter around himself. It was kind of cold in the room. Why isn’t the fire going? he wondered absently.
He was halfway across the room before he saw her. She was laying on the couch, directly in front of the fireplace. Her robes were twisted around her legs and her red hair fanned out over the pillow. A book lay abandoned in her lap. One hand covered the book; her knuckles were bruised and scratched with a bit of dried blood under her fingernails.
Ginny Weasley! his thoughts screamed. Why does she have to be in here now?
He started to turn around and leave, but something made him stop. Maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion, or that he didn’t want to run into any professors. He didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t want to leave. It was late and he was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep.
He looked around the room to see what had been provided. He didn’t see another couch, but there was an armchair next to the dying fire, and, without taking his eyes from the Weasley girl, Draco quietly moved toward it. He sat down cautiously and was glad to find that it the chair was comfortable. Well, it was better than nothing, at least.
He studied Ginny’s face for a minute. She was actually kind of pretty, in a wild sort of way, when she was asleep. Her mouth formed a soft smile, as if she were having good dreams. Suddenly realizing what he was thinking, that he was actually admiring her, Draco sat rigid in his chair and shook his head.
This is Weasley, here! he told himself sternly. Then he noticed the way her eyelashes brushed her cheeks and the shine of her hair in the half light. It wasn’t just red, but a whole range of colours from copper to red to gold. It looked much better on her than on her brothers.
Arg! He stood up off the chair quickly, thoroughly angry with himself for his ridiculous thoughts. The chair banged backwards and crashed into the fire tools. These, in turn, fell to the floor with what seemed to Draco to be the loudest sound possible.
Ginny stirred. Oh, no! he thought wildly.
Author notes: So? I love reviews! Go tell me if you liked it or hated it and why! Please! And then, if you're interested, come back when I post the next chapter and read that one!
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