~A Place In My Heart~

I sat on the end of my four-poster bed, dangling my dirty feet inches off the mahogany floor. I glanced out my bay window, not really seeing anything, just thinking. Everything that happened today was wrong. Everything I do is wrong. I felt the bruise on my arm and winced. There were ones just like it, all over my seven-year-old body. My father was cruel. Every time he thought a lesson needed to be taught, it was beaten into me with his cane. He wasn't old, he just thought it looked fancy. And he always had something handy to beat me with.

I had just received my first beating of the day. He thought I would never amount to anything. He said I was a worthless child, a nobody. He said it was a disgrace to call me his son. And I, becoming angrier and angrier, had shouted," Then why do you still call me your son?"

That had earned me a hard blow to the head with his cane. I fell to the floor, unconscious. Next thing I knew, I was lying on my back on my green and black silk bedsheets, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes. How could he do this to me, my own father? My mother had learned long ago never to interfere with one of father's beatings. She stood on, sometimes watching,mostly sobbing silently into her hands.

She had watched, when I was six, my father beat the living daylights out of me for tracking dirt through the house. She had sobbed silently on my seventh birthday, just last month, when he had beat me to a bloody pulp for talking kindly to our house elf, Dobby.

And here she sat, stroking my blond bangs out of my eyes and looking at me as though she had personally stopped father from killing me. I loathed her. I hated him. How could I live in a home with such cruel parents? How would I turn out, I wondered.

That was eight years ago, and I am fifteen. Well, I found out soon enough how I turned out. Arrogant, spiteful, and forever looking down on other people. Father had taught me--more like beat it into me-- when I was eleven to loathe halfbloods and muggleborns. He said they were called 'mudbloods' and should be treated as dirt. He commanded me to look down on those with less money, or shabbier clothes. I am a Malfoy, and I have disobeyed all of my father's rules, to a point. I do not loathe muggleborns, but I keep up a good front. Looking down on others comes naturally to a Malfoy. I have accepted my friends over the years, selecting the ones I deem fit to be in my presence. There is one, though, that I have not told my father of. I have one friend whom he would be most dissatisfied to meet, and I am sure he would beat us both to a mess of broken, bleeding bodies.

Father would kill me, literally, if he found out I was best friends with a Gryffindor, especially a freak. But I don't think she's that bad. She and I have had some interesting conversations, and yes, we have had our arguments, but for the most part, Luna Lovegood and I are getting along quite nicely.

I am fully aware that she wears radishes for earrings, and butterbeer corks for necklaces, but that's just her style, I suppose. We talk quite often at school, and I'm sure father wonders why I get so many owls during the holidays. We frequently stay at school over Christmas and Easter, when no one else is around but that 'Golden Trio'.

First Hogsmeade visit of the term is tomorrow. I'll have to go with those oafs, Crabbe and Goyle. Keep appearances up, you know. I can hardly stand the sight of them, much less their annoyingly stupid faces. They don't even comprehend what I'm telling them half the time. I'd much rather be having a glass of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks with Luna, chatting lightheartedly about something random, like nargles or Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.

And yet, here I stand, waiting in the entrance hall of the great castle for Pansy, my so-called girlfriend. I don't even like her! Luna is much more pretty, with her wide, innocent blue eyes, and her full, pink lips. I wish I could kiss those lips. I bet they're soft and smooth.

Her hair may be a bit...frizzy...but it's not overly so. Just last month it was very bushy and unruly, but now it's more of a smooth wave.

My heart gives an almost uncontrollable lurch as I see Luna, dressed in flowing folds of silk, walking gracefully down the stairs. One of her delicate hands trails along the railing. My heary skips a beat as she looks at me and smiles, very faintly, as she walks by.

"Ahem." I turn around quickly to find Pansy gazing adoringly at me. Ugh.

"Draco-o." She simpers. I hate it when she does that. "Aren't you going to tell me how beautiful I am?"

"You look great." I say distractedly, glancing around to see where Luna had gone. I mentally slapped myself. I have to be careful. One slip of the tongue or action, and our secret would be ruined. I would be ruined. Father would kill me.

Chapter one of an old, old story. Written when I was fourteen, just rediscovered this evening. :) Review and let me know what you think!

Much Love,

Jax :3