Disclaimer: Obviously I do not own Harry Potter or anything that has to do with it. That would be J.k. Rowling. Also, I'd like to inform that my story takes place before the 6th book ever happened. So therefore, Snape is still around, Dumbledore isn't dead, and so forth. I'm having the Golden Trio searching for horcruxes a year earlier. Let's just say everything has kind of sped up a notch but nothing is going to end up how it did in the books. It starts out right before first term at Hogwarts begins in their 6th year and we go into the story with Draco's point of view, sort of. I'm not the best writer but I'm trying. I'm open to advice and suggestions. Also my memory is kind of shot so please forgive me if I make a mistake on any HP facts that I mess up. Either way, creative license. This isn't my first fanfic; I used to write stories all the time years ago but this is my first one since then so I'm very rusty. Please give it a chance. This is a Draco and Other Character Pairing. I think you'll like her though. I don't want to give away too much so here it goes.

Chapter 1
He Would Be Different

The Dark Lord favored his voice. He liked how he spoke, with dry wit, subtle charm and steadfast confidence. He needed to use Draco Malfoy's voice for his advantage. So he could interrogate the captured and enslaved muggle-born and mudbloods alike. The Dark Lord was obsessed with finding Potter, and getting to the people who were close to the infamous Golden Trio was imperative, for the three former students were now hoofing it in God knows where to look for and destroy horcruxes and Voldemort knew it. For this reason, he made Draco attend his school year with a rotten plan in mind; now that he was at the ripe, bold age of sixteen and fully-capable, he wanted Draco to be the eyes and ears of Hogwarts: to infiltrate the system, stealthily spy and set it up so Voldemort could finally get his hands on Dumbledore. And without the rubbernecking Golden Trio there to ruin it, the plan would work perfectly.

While he was walking down the cobblestoned street of Diagon Alley, the white sun blurred Draco's vision and stung at his eyes as he recalled back to what The Dark Lord had said to him that fateful night.

"Lucius, bring me the chalice," Voldemort hissed. "We must drink to your son's good fortune, for he has officially joined the right side of this war." He spoke the word with such a malice, as if to think there should be no war, that people should not be fighting or disagreeing with him. All the while though, he smiled through gritty yellow teeth, amused at the thought of people rioting like rats just to epically falter in the end.

Lucius' slumped shoulders were a silhouette in the gleaming of the moonlit sky as he entered the archway to the garden with a chalice and wine bottle clutched in his weak hands. Time had not been good to Lucius, nor had anything really good happened for Lucius since Bellatrix killed Sirius Black in cold blood months before. He had quickly become the Dark Lord's most loyal, although very pitiful servant. The Dark Lord had murdered Worm Tail in disgust for his absence of honesty and his abundance in cowardice. Yet Lucius was also that of a coward, he had plenty of candor and genuineness. Draco watched as his father knelt down, putting the cup on the table and filling up the goblet, a little more than painstakingly slow, with blood red wine. His light blonde hair fell over his pasty white face as he poured, quietly shaking. He wished his father wouldn't be so sickly. He felt horrible for him, but he made his own choices.

Draco gasped in the cool night air, trying to breathe in valor and grit and breathe out his nervousness. The new, spell-cast tattoo on his left arm felt like a thousand tribal men stabbing through his flesh with spears. He even wanted to touch it, maybe itch it, but he was almost afraid that if he did he would scratch away the mark. You see, the Dark Mark was an essential part of the process, but the celebrating, the drinking of the blood wine afterwards, is your promise to Dark Lord that you will obey his every command and worship the ground he walks on. The wine was an infusion of The Dark Lord's blood and your own, once you are cut open. Draco wanted to say he was scared but he was not an idiot. He quietly chewed his bottom lip, staring as Voldemort took out a knife.

The dagger glistered in the essence of the moonlight cascading down onto them in the green garden where they stood at Malfoy Manor. Narcissa offered her only son a mother's comfort. He tried to smile as he felt her warm arm wrap around his shoulders. The sad, broken family watched as the Dark Lord stained the cutlass with his own blood and dripped it out into the goblet with a clenched fist. He cackled as he beckoned over to Draco.

"Now, Draco, come to me," Voldemort rasped. "Hold out the palm of your right hand, the opposite of the mark," Draco did as he was told and extended his right arm. The Dark Lord did not laugh, not out loud, but Draco could still hear it, his merciless, shrill fracture, mocking him. One slimy hand grasped his arm while the other held the knife which glittered like diamonds. "This will hurt," The Dark Lord grinned. Draco let out a slight groan as Voldemort's blade sunk into and sliced open his palm, squelching his flesh and letting blood flow out like a river down his fingers and into the golden chalice. "Quickly, Draco, now drink." As the pain ebbed and faded away, the silver haired boy closed his tired eyes, slowly taking a gulp of his blood infused wine, and feeling himself become more of a man.

The memory thankfully dissolved as he walked forward, past Flourish and Blotts and into The Leaky Cauldron, where he fancied himself a butterbeer. He was getting himself mentally prepared for this upcoming year, which was starting today. He was yet to board the train for one hour so he figured since he had everything ready he would relax until it was time. He sat down, acquired his butterbeer and then ordered a honey glazed chicken breast with potatoes mashed, as well as leafy green spinach. Even though it stunk, Draco was not completely opposed to eating it. He knew it would help keep him strong since he had gained many muscles over the summer and had really toned up. He felt more able-bodied and robust as he ever felt in his life. He was always a scrawny kid, but he was finally growing up. At this rate, by the time he is twenty-two, he should be a well-built strapping young man.

Maybe he will even find someone to be his wife someday, he thought. That he wouldn't have a problem finding. He knew deep down the one thing he might never find, would be true love. 'God, I'm a sap,' he thought to himself. But there was nothing wrong with that, he figured as he sipped his drink. He believed that his parents truly loved each other. Why couldn't he himself enjoy that type of love, if he were to find it? Love is what life is all about. In the end though, he wouldn't make the same mistakes his father made. He wouldn't become as weak as he did. Draco would be different; he swore to himself. Whatever it took, he would be different.

He finished eating and checked his watch. It was almost time to get going. Since he was a Prefect for Slytherin again this year, he had to make sure to be punctual. He got to Diagon Alley extra early so that he could stash his luggage on the train and then go walk around for a bit and shop. He downed the rest of his third butterbeer, wiped the sweet foam from his lips and paid the bill. He went on his merry way, seemingly happier than he actually was. He liked putting on a show. He didn't trust people with his real feelings so he either feigned complete contentedness, or he made himself absolutely stoic. That way people would always be guessing, or not wondering at all. It was bright and sunny today, very warm with a slight cool breeze. Perfect weather, in Draco's opinion. He skipped over the cobblestone rocks in the street as he heard the Hogwarts Express' horn whistling in the distance. He began walking faster. He had about ten minutes, and he would make it there in five. Perfect.

He rounded a corner behind a building and whack, right into someone. Wild locks of dark brown hair fell all around him, tickling his face and a slender warm body pressed down upon him, trying to stand up. "Ouch, oh my God," a voice peeped. "I'm so sorry." Draco heaved a sigh of slight pain when she got off of him and respectfully smiled up at what must be a female. He decided to go with his charming self. "Oh, it's completely fine," he smirked and realized she had dropped some bags she was carrying in the clamor. "Here, let me help you." He offered as she quietly gathered two of the bags and Draco grabbed two more. "You're going to the train, correct? What year are you?" She sighed and blushed. Draco got a good look at her; Her skin was slightly fair with a golden hue and her long dark curls looked soft. He just observed how her crystal blue eyes sparkled when she spoke. He had hoped she didn't notice him inspect her, or rather check her out.

"Oh, well actually, I'm going to be new to Hogwarts this year. I'm a transfer from Swanfern School for Witchcraft. It's an all"

"All-girls academy, I've heard of it. Very prestigious. Why move here?" he interrupted, only then realizing he was being too intrusive. She frowned. He noticed she had a dusting of freckles grazing her cheeks and nose. She was rather cute, if he wanted to be honest. "I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. Walk you to the train?" She agreed and he continued to carry her two bags as they strolled down the street to the platform. As they walked she told him, "I'll be in my sixth year, how about you?" He smiled at her, showing off his perfect white teeth. She stared at him. He was tall and sort of lanky, but he had toned muscle she could admire through his oatmeal colored sweater. "Same, actually. Aren't you nervous?" he asked after a moment.

"Nervous, why would I be nervous?" she asked, perturbed. "Well, because you'll have to be sorted into a house by the sorting hat. It's rather exciting though," "Oh, right, I did hear about that. No, not nervous, or excited, but more excited than nervous." He blanked, mouth agape at her. "What?" "Oh, nothing, I'm just thinking, you're a wacky one aren't you?" "Perhaps," she said, peering up at him. He gazed down into her eyes. It felt like he was searching into her soul. His orbs were a steel gray with hints of azure and peridot, but they set her body on fire. She found herself wondering who the hell this guy was. She never did get his name. They arrived to the platform finally and she almost felt relieved. "Well, I guess it's time," she took a deep breath. "What was your name again?" she pressed. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And you?" She released one of her hands from a bag and let it drop to the ground, removing it to shake his hand. He took hold of her soft hand gently shook it. "Riverpool, Rosie Riverpool." He smiled, trying not to laugh at the pun her name was. "Well, Rosie Riverpool, it's usually the wacky ones who get sorted into Hufflepuff." He decided to exclude the fact that there was indeed a very odd girl who was in Ravenclaw but he wouldn't mention it at this time. "Nice to meet you."

He let go of her hand and left her standing there before the train. He climbed aboard and she picked up her abandoned duffle bag. She had researched it and she didn't think Hufflepuff sounded all that bad. There were many a great witch and wizard who came from Hufflepuff, and rarely ever a dark one. Rosie would have nothing to do with this war had her parents not been murdered in a rampage by Snatchers in the night this past summer. She was left with a destroyed home and nowhere to go. She did not want to go back to Swanfern, she wasn't really like those girls. She was different. So Rosie reached out to Dumbledore at Hogwarts and he gladly welcomed her into his fine educational home and establishment. Here she could start over fresh. Yes, she still had a lot of grieving to do, but she would make it. She would be different. The horn blew it's whistle hard and loud and Rosie mustered up her courage and set forth onto the Hogwarts Express to her new life.