Ambivalent
Chapter one
By cocoa-latte..
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Disclaimer: I don't own it. J.K Rowling does.

Chapter one.

Draco Malfoy sat rigidly at the back of his History of Magic class, listening to Professor Binns drone on about the Confederation of House elves in 1542. He gripped his quill tightly onto an already generously filled piece of parchment. He snorted, 'Filled with useless notes. Who even cares about all this?'

His usually gleaming grey eyes were dull as they bore into the red-head that sat in front of him. He was taking History of Magic with Gryffindors, but even worse, with a Weasley. He sneered at her.

Draco had finished with his notes; more like filled the piece of parchment up. His hands had enough with writing. They were already aching and it was still morning. He sat still while drumming his fingers on the table. He was pleased as a few students turned around and looked at him, clearly annoyed.

The scratching of the quill eventually died down.

Professor Binns looked around the room in his usual manner. "Done?" he asked briskly.

There was the standard "Yes, Professor Binns" that chorused throughout the room dully.

"Good, good," said the ghost airily, "I want half-a-roll of parchment on the Confederation of House elves handed in to me for next day." He dismissed them with a wave of his hands.

Draco sighed as he walked back to his private prefect room to drop of his books. He sneered at some third years, who gave him a frightened look and scurried off the other direction. He was nearing the dungeons now. He stopped by a stretch of a bare, damp stone wall. He muttered the password, "mudblood," and a large concealed door in the wall slid opened.

The room was large, with a rich shade of green on the walls. Silver fabric hung from the ceiling, giving the room a definite Slytherin feeling. He hastily dropped his books onto his desk and left the room swiftly.

Draco headed towards the Great Hall. It was now lunch. He sat down on the long wooden Slytherin table. He helped himself to some salad, chicken, and pumpkin juice. He noticed a first-year reading today's daily prophet. He felt foolish for leaving his in his room.

He glared at the first-year. "Pass it," he said coldly.

The first-year looked up at him. The look in his eyes hinted fear. He passed the newspaper to Draco without questioning.

He glanced through the first page. Nothing in particular cached his eye. He turned the page and skimmed its contents. Nothing caught his eye.

Bored with the paper, Draco sneered and thrust the paper back to the first-year, who caught it, startled and spilt pumpkin juice over his shirt.

Across from Draco were Goyle and Crabbe, already grabbing everything in sight and stuffing it into their mouths. Draco watched them for a few moments. Starting to feel nauseous and sickening as he watched them eat, he left the Great Hall. Not noticing that someone was watching him leave...

His next class turned out to be double potions with Gryffindors. Potions were something that he always looked forward to. Snape was his favourite teacher, after all.

Draco walked to the potions class where Snape was waiting for the class. Professor Snape gave a curtly nod to him. Draco only eyed his teacher before taking a seat. He took his potions supplies out of his green bag and placed them on the table.

"Today," began Snape in his sullen voice, "We will be brewing a awakening draught. I'm sure that if made correctly, it'll be very useful when your N.E.W.T.S

"Instructions are written on the board. You will have forty-five minutes, beginning now."

It turned out that Draco was sharing a cauldron with Blaise Zabini. Across the room, Draco spotted Potty and Weasel. He smirked. It was a wonder how they advanced into this class.

Draco turned his attention back to his potion. He carefully added the measured and chopped Shirvelfig into his potion.

The greasy-haired Professor walked up and down the aisles, peering down at the swirling liquid in their cauldrons. Satisfied with the obvious failure of Potter and Weasley's Awakening Draught, Snape swept back to his desk and picked up a stack of paper. "I'm handing back your essays that most of you have acceptably written. However, some of you…" He glanced over at Potter, "have seem to have neglected the key points.

The top paper was circled in various places and a large spiky T was written at the top of the essay.

Draco's evil grin got wider. Oh how he loved seeing his nemesis in hot water.

Draco brushed out of the room as soon as Potions was over. The dungeons were oddly chilly that day; even amidst all the steam that billowed out from the cauldrons. He made his way up to his room and laid his books down on his desk neatly. He gave a little stretch before settling down to do his homework. He would have to, if he wanted a good term this year.

After an hour, Draco dropped his quill down with a clatter. To his dismay, a few splatters of ink got on his oak table. He muttered a quick cleaning charm and fixed up his problem quickly. He had finished his Potions and History of Magic homework. He looked up at his clock. It was nearing dinner now. He felt his stomach give a small grumble in protest of the lack of food. He barely touched his food at lunch, after seeing Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco stood up and grabbed a clean set of clothes from his wardrobe and headed towards his bathroom that was enclosed in his room. Even thought it was nowhere as large as the prefect's bathroom, it was still okay. There was no way that he would agree to share a bathroom with someone else again. After last year? That blubbering Hufflepuff prefect nearly walked into him while he was bathing. Naked!

He stepped into the steaming shower. 'A long shower is so great after a long day,' he thought happily.

Draco, now clean and fresh, walked down to the Great Hall. He stomach seemed to be screaming 'feed me!' to him.

He didn't notice the heavily uneven steps that were getting louder as they neared him. There was a loud Smack and he felt himself tumble forward. He caught himself before he hit the ground.

Who dared to run into him.

He got up and looked down distastefully at a heap of a black robe and a mass of red tresses.

"No wonder," he mused with a sneer, not bothering to even offer a hand to help her up, "A Weasel, or should I say Weaslette?"

"I'm really, really sorry," she blurted out, her eyes wide as she looked up at the prominent Slytherin that stood before her.

He brushed the dirt off himself haughtily. "I don't have time to associate with people like you."

With one last glare, he continued down to the Great Hall, ignoring the burning glare that he could feel on his back.

Ginny had already lost sight of Harry. A scowl came across her pretty face. She shrugged and headed towards the Great Hall anyways.

Ginny flopped down at the Gryffindor table, beside Hermione and Ron, who was hunched over on his chair. She busied herself while piling food onto her plate. It was a wonder how she stayed so thin. She felt the eyes of her brother on her.

"Yes?" questioned Ginny innocently as she was cutting her chicken into smaller pieces.

"Your face is red."

"Your point being?" asked Ginny cautiously. He probably was thinking that she just finished snogging Dean, or something like that. Knowing her brother, he'd believe almost anything that people told him about her. It still didn't penetrate through his thick skull that they had broken up over six months ago.

Ron looked at her suspiciously. "Never mind."

Ginny didn't say anything. She continued eating her food. A sweaty Quidditch player flopped down beside her. Ginny smiled widely. "Hi Harry, just finished Quidditch practice?" she asked pleasantly. Harry nodded but didn't say a word. He loaded his plate high with food – the mound of food even higher than Ginny's.

On the other side of the Great hall, Draco stared at his food, before stabbing his fork into a slab of meat and cutting it roughly with a knife.

"Hey Draco," said Blaise with a smile, "You're going to scare people away with the way you antagonize your steak."

Draco glanced up briefly and gave a warning look at his closest friend, but didn't say anything. Beside Blaise, a pretty sixth-year girl was toying with the Blaise's dark hair.

The blonde gave a smirk, Zabini's girlfriend for the week. "Hey Blaise," he acknowledged.

Blaise nodded absently.

"Don't all your petty girlfriends figure out that you're only using them? One new girlfriend after each week, they're bound to notice something? Do you bribe them with your wealth or something?"

Blaise tried to ignore the annoyed look that his girlfriend was giving to Draco. "At least I'm not like you," he said loudly, "What? Can you not find yourself a girl? How come I never see you with someone?"

"Maybe I would rather not waste my breath," he said coolly.

"Right," Blaise answered back in the same tone. He turned his attention back to the sixth year beside him. "Don't mind him, "he said, "He's a little mental in the head, you know what I mean?"

Blaise gave Draco a serene smile then burst out laughing. "Man, do we have to go through this every time?"

Draco ignored the humour in his friend's voice. "I wouldn't have if you didn't start to complain about the way I cut my steak. It's just a slab of meat! It's not like I'm going to kill someone."

Blaise pretended shuddered at Draco's choice of words. "You always have to be all violent. Or act as if you are." He snickered at the last part.

Draco was back in his prefect room. He opened his closet door. He reached for his secret stash of beer. Not butter beer. This stuff was far stronger than that. He opened his drawer and took out his beer opener. He popped the cap off, watching it roll across the floor before stopping a few metres away from him. He didn't bother picking it up, instead he took a long swig of alcohol, feeling it burn down his throat. The pounding in his brain seemed to lessen. He gave a small smile to no one in particular. He loved the affect of alcohol.

He wasn't afraid that he'd lose his all coherencies. It'd take him a few bottles before he'd get completely drunk and wasted. He quickly drained the bottle of beer. He tossed the empty container into the waste bin.

There was a quiet knock on the door. Draco slowly got up to answer it. The knocking became louder and more ignorant. He sung open the heavy wooden door. Pansy was leaning against the door frame.

"Draco…" greeted Pansy tranquilly. She walked inside the large room, and sniffed the air haughtily. "You've been drinking." it was a statement not a question.

Draco stood up taller, but didn't say anything. He didn't need someone to be on his back all the time. She didn't need to be afraid that he was going to get drunk. He wasn't planning on to.

A large regal brown eagle owl flew into his room through his open window. The Malfoy crest was stamped on the envelope; sealing it. Pansy eyed the paper.

"I'll leave now then." She gave him a knowing look and left the room with the silent click of the door.

Even as much as he hated the pug-faced witch, he was thankful that she never questioned him about his family.

Draco got up and took is letter from his owl. The fireplace was already lit. He threw the letter in, not bothering to even read it. He stared at it blankly as the flames licked the paper, extinguishing it into ash.

He lay down on his bed and slumbered into a dreamless sleep, as usual.

There was a few loud taps on his window. Draco rolled over on his bed and opened on eye groggily. His owl was fluttering outside. Draco swung his legs over the side of his bed and slipped his feet into his forest green slippers. He dragged himself over to the other side of the room, where his large owl was impatiently waiting. He swung opened the window, and a large gust of wind blew in. Draco yawned loudly and shut it quickly.

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly. He didn't quite get enough sleep last night. Not that it mattered much. He grabbed his black school robes and walked into his small bathroom. He adjusted the shower taps, and watched the water powerfully spray out, emitting steam. The touch of the warm water was like heaven. Not that he would ever want land in that place after his life was through.

Half-an-hour later, after he had finished breakfast, Draco shuffled his feet to towards the Transfiguration classroom. He was unusually early today. What could be worse than having Transfiguration first thing in the morning? Draco groaned inwardly and sneered at a second year that walked by nervously.

Soon enough, he arrived. He scanned the classroom and found a seat far east of the classroom by the windows and sat down. Class had not started yet; the chatter and laughter of the other students surrounded him. Draco could faintly hear the heels of his Professor walking towards the classroom. The chatter began to slowly die down. He breathed in the perfume of the witch that sat down beside him.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Again, this chapter is revised! (I know, I know. I revise chapters a lot, but it's usually for the better, right? I'm trying to make Draco less out-of-character. Isn't it mean when I say that? I'm going to make him. Muahaha.

Oh, in case you're wondering, this story has been renamed to Ambivalent (as you can probably see.)!