Disclaimer: I dont own anything except the plot. sob sob sob.

Warning: Story has a mature content, with scenes of sexual nature, strong language, strong violence, sensitive themes and implied slash. If any of it disturbs you, please don't read.

"Cogatuansermynee!" Ron mumbled through a mouth full of maple syrup-soaked pancakes, doing more than full justice to Mrs. Weasley's efforts by rapidly demolishing his fourth helpings of everything. Hermione would normally have ignored his attempts at holding a conversation with a mouth full to bursting, but this time, she beamed at him, understanding him fully well. She looked across the table at Harry, who was smiling widely at her, and then at Ginny beside her, who hugged her tightly. Not able to sit still any longer, she jumped up, and was immediately surrounded by her friends, who hugged her and proclaimed that they had known it all along- the Head Girl badge belonged to her.

"Thanks guys", she managed to squeak out. As a matter of fact, she had known it in her heart as well…no other seventh year girl in Hogwarts held a record like hers. Top of the year grades in every subject, and an impeccable record as a prefect- she was a normal and obvious choice. She looked at the letter in her hand bearing the Hogwarts crest one more time, and smiled again.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley came bustling in, her arms full of a basket full of fresh laundry, with her peculiar clock balanced rather precariously on top. She took one look at the huddle, and dropped her basket in alarm.

"Oh Merlin", she gasped, "what has happened….who has….where…!" she could not manage to force more words out.

Ginny noticed her mother's condition, and turned to her.

"Calm down, mum! Its nothing serious…please! Hermione has just been made a Head Girl…that's all."

"oh…is that all? I mean, how wonderful! Congratulations, Hermione dear. How nice! I mean to say, first Bill, then Percy, now you! Oh… I just knew it…that is to say…"

"Honestly", Ginny rolled her eyes.

True to character, Mrs. Weasley now had tears in her eyes, though it was difficult to say whether she was crying due to happiness, as she considered Harry and Hermione as family, or because she had suddenly been reminded of Percy. Percy had a fall-out with rest of his family two years back, and had walked out on them to smarm up to Fudge, the minister of magic. Inspite of being proven wrong in his convictions, he had not returned to the family.

"Well", she said, wiping her eyes, "lets have a party tonight. Some people will come over from the Order as well. Lets all celebrate in style. After all, we do have a double celebration at hand now." And then she smiled warmly at Hermione and gave her an affectionate hug. Harry was as good as her son, and if Ron came to his senses on time, then she would have Hermione as a part of her family as well. She knew Ron secretly doted on her, but wished he would pluck up the courage to ask her out soon enough. Hermione was no longer a bushy-haired bookworm with no sense of style. She was now a dainty and confident girl, and carried herself well. If Ron waited too long, she might be snapped up. And what with all the insecurity among people because of you-know-who, she just might not want to wait for long. She might have to speak with Ron, although she hoped she wouldn't have to.


The evening at number 12, Grimmauld Place wasnot dull and depressing as it usually was. Many people from the Order had turned up to wish Hermione, and to congratulate Fleur as well, who was one month pregnant. She and Bill had gotten married two months ago, and were living at the headquarters as it was near to Bills' place of work. Bill was absent tonight, however, on Dumbledore's orders, and Fleur seemed to lose a bit of her glow because of it. On the bright side, however, she and Mrs. Weasley got on much better now, more so since the latter had found she was going to be a grandmother.

Harry's eyes scanned the room…he hated this place. Eventhough the house now belonged to him, he hated every moment he had to spend here. He could still see Sirius as he was here…moody, irritable, miserable…! How he missed Sirius! And he felt a renewed burst of hatred….at Bellatrix, at Voldemort! He would get them….both of them…and whoever who stood in the way.

Ron's eyes seemed glued to the beaming brunette who stood chatting to Tonks and Ginny near the table. He had realized his feelings for her a bit late…only after Victor Krum and the Yule Ball fiasco in their fourth year…but he still hadn't managed to do anything about it yet. Why didn't he just ask her out…what was stopping him, for Merlin's sake? He shook his head…he had to work up the courage…he had to. Before it was too late.

Hermione smiled up as Lupin came over to join their conversation, slipping his hand around Tonks' waist, who leaned into him. She glanced over at a redhead standing in a corner just as he turned to speak with Harry…and sighed wistfully. She knew he liked her, but when will he confess his feelings to her? Or, will he ever? She shook her head…c'mon Ron! Whats stopping you? Then she turned back to her conversation.

Ginny laughed as Tonks turned herself into an old, wrinkled witch, and looked around to where her brother stood talking with his best friend. She had fancied Harry since she set her eyes on him, and last year, finally, he had realized he liked her as well. They had started dating…but she felt frustrated. Dating Harry was not nearly as much fun as she had hoped it would be. In the beginning, it was. Oh, was it fun! But then, he had started being pre-occupied. He had a world-saving thing, and he couldn't seem to leave it behind long enough. True, this was something she liked about him…but it was getting to her. She felt as though she was competing with Voldemort for a space in his mind. And it wasn't just Voldemort…it was just about everybody. Every single person they came across wanted to be with Harry…wanted a piece of the "Chosen One". Girls fawned over him, boys wanted to be his best buddies, people from ministry wanted him as their poster boy, adults wanted to know him better, children wanted to get close to him, Order wanted his help, Dumbledore wanted to give him private lessons, teachers wanted to help him, deatheaters wanted to capture him, and Voldemort wanted to kill him. It seemed everyone wanted something from him, and her number on his list was getting pushed down. She had tried to appreciate how he handled all this pressure put on him, but it sometimes got very difficult. Like last evening, when they were alone in the library, she had felt so content…being in Harry's arms, being kissed senseless by him, and then suddenly, she didn't quite see it how, she had found herself sitting in an armchair by the fire, alone, with him deep in discussion with Ron and Hermione about horcruxes! She loved Harry more than life itself, but she didn't see where they were heading now. She was now almost jealous of Hermione, who she felt had more of Harry than she did, what with being his best friend of six years. In fact, now she was jealous of everyone who got close to Harry…she must be getting paranoid. Oh well…she turned back and smiled at Hermione.


Draco Malfoy was bored out of his mind. He stared morosely out of his bedroom window, trying very hard to dispel the feeling of inadequacy and emptiness that seemed to engulf him the moment he let his guard down. He didn't know where his life was heading…and indeed, if it was heading in some direction, should he allow it to head that way!

Who would think that he, Draco Malfoy, the rich, pampered brat, would ever feel anything but confident and sure of himself! And yet, here he was, feeling lost and confused. And feeling that there was so much to life that he had missed out on, and yet not knowing how to get it.

There was the Malfoy Manor itself, that contributed to his feeling of misery and hopelessness. The house he had always known as home resembled more of a haunted house now, eventhough it was still beautiful, crammed with beautiful artifacts and expensive…everything. Yes, everything about his home was expensive. But with his father locked up in Azkaban since the end of his fifth year, and the ministry conducting raids on the manor whenever they felt like it, it felt less of a home and more of a prison.

Draco missed his father. True, Lucius Malfoy could be hard on him at times, but he had also doted on his only son. Draco just had to name a wish, and his father had granted it. When he was five, he had wanted his personal house elf, and had gotten Spiffy on his birthday. When he was nine, he had wanted to see Europe, and he had been treated to a grand tour, culminating in a villa being purchased in his name at Rome. His father knew he had liked the city, so he had given him a house there. He had even gotten the ugly hand of glory that he had taken a fancy to, although he knew his father hadn't thought much of his taste. He had wanted to be a Seeker on his house team, and his father had arranged that. While Draco could never call his father "dad", or go on fishing trips with him, or just rough it out like a boys night in town, he knew his father had always been there for him. He had always made it a point to be closely involved with Draco's school life, from dropping him off at the station to trying to get Hagrid sacked. Draco had lorded it over the other slytherins at school, using his father's name and contacts mercilessly. But now, Draco let out his breath forcefully as he thought, now his father was no longer there for him. More importantly, now his father could no longer wield the same influence that he had enjoyed before the dark lord came back.

What to do with his life now, Draco pondered. Should he follow in his father's footsteps and join the dark lord when the time came, or, should he stay away from everything! His father had made his own decision a long time back, and now it was Draco's turn. Draco sat down on his favorite armchair by the window, and put his hands behind his head, staring at the scene outside the window as he thought.
Inspite of growing up with a deatheater for a father, Draco had never felt his father push him towards the dark lord. True, the dark lord had been gone most of his childhood, thanks to the boy who always gets the snitch, Draco sneered, but in a way, that had been nice. He had had a nice, normal childhood, with doting parents and fawning acquaintances. Of course, this was normal for a Malfoy. He didn't want to think about a childhood in which his father would have been running around carrying out the dark lord's orders, or worse, ending up killed.

As much as Draco liked the dark arts and the power that they gave, he found that he didn't really want to spend the rest of his life kissing the dark lord's boots. For one thing, he didn't really like what the deatheaters ended up looking like! I mean, look at aunt Bella, who used to be such a great beauty, and look at her now! True, it was Azkaban that had taken most of her beauty, but he didn't like this particular occupational hazard. Who knew what his father would like, his handsome father, when he got out! Draco was proud of his looks. He knew that he just had to look at a girl for ten seconds, and it was guaranteed that the girl would go to sleep dreaming about him. He smirked. He knew he looked really good. In the looks department, he and Zabini ruled the school. In fact, the junior year slytherins even had a bet out, that due to an absence of good-looking girls in their house, he and Zabini would fall for each other. Draco had to laugh at that. As if. There were enough girls in the school, in other houses, if not in slytherin, who were passable in the looks department. He and Zabini kept a count, and they were neck-and-neck most of the time. But Draco had gone one better last year, a feat so far not attempted. He had dated two best friends at the same time, lead both of them on, slept with them both separately on the same day, and gotten away with it. Pansy and Claire were now the worst of enemies, each thinking the other had tried to steal Draco from her, hating each other and pestering him, much to his chagrin.

Claire had, since then, shifted to America with her parents and had taken admission there, thankfully. She was now out of his hair, thank Merlin. But Pansy….!

Draco closed his eyes in vexation and channeled his thoughts once again.
Reasons against joining the dark lord…he reminded himself. Ok, so that was looks. There was another reason, the one that irritated him, but in his own self-interest, he refused to overlook it now. This reason was the possibility that the dark lord might be defeated by the boy wonder. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Looking at the track record of their head-to-head encounters, it would be, Potter 5, the dark lord, 0. That didn't look so great if you were considering joining the dark lord. What if, if, if…if Potter prevailed? If he joined the deatheaters, he would be sent to Azkaban, that is, if he were still alive. That would be the end of his glorious life, and he didn't even have kids yet, to carry on the Malfoy name. Forget kids, he didn't want to die yet. And he didn't want to end up in Azkaban either. Think, Draco, think…he told himself.

Would it be suicide to join the dark lord, or would it be suicide to turn his back on the man who had survived a killing curse and had been reborn…if indeed he was a man! Or would it make more sense to be in the good books of the boy who had survived the killing curse, and was now being hailed as the "Chosen One". Much as he despised Potter, and loathed the idea of having to speak civilly to him, he had his life to consider. If he joined the rag-tag Order, would he be forced to fight against his father to prove his loyalty? He didn't want to fight his father, he merely wanted to save his own skin. And if he joined the Order, and the dark lord won…he didn't even want to think what would happen to him.

What should he do…remain aloof from both sides? Shift to his villa in Rome with his mother? He had no doubts that if the dark lord wanted him, he would find him, and have him, no matter where he hid himself. Only the Order could save him from the dark lord, but that was only if they could save themselves. And that would be only if the boy wonder scored again. Shit.

Draco closed his eyes again and groaned. Why couldn't he have a normal life, like a normal boy his age? He had seen muggle boys his age recently…around 5-6 of them. They were standing by the roadside, resting against their parked motorbikes, discussing something animatedly. Then they had given a loud hoot of laughter, and given each other high-fives. If he were to ask his friends to give him a high-five, Crabbe would most probably levitate five different objects and dump them on his head, and Goyle…he wouldn't do anything, because a) he couldn't levitate anything, and b) he couldn't count to five, Draco thought sourly.

Once again he flashed upon those boys…their carefree looks, their camaraderie, their sense of belonging with each other…something he had missed all his life up to that point. Then they had got on their bikes, and roared away in the distance, yelling at each other to catch up. That he didn't miss, that noisy muggle contraption…he had his broomstick. And he was a damn good flyer. But he did miss friendship. In slytherin, there were only the powerful and their followers, and the weak without followers. There were no friendships. He was powerful, and so had Crabbe and Goyle as his followers. But they were in no sense his equals. His equals were Zabini and Nott…but they were not so powerful. Zabini didn't have the name "Malfoy", which was a synonym for power, and Nott, who had the name and was certainly clever enough, lacked personality. So they were loners, and he, Draco, was the Slytherin Prince. But he always had to be on his toes…no mistakes were allowed. Those whom he lorded over would pounce on any sign of weakness he showed. So, he had to sink to newer depths at every turn to rise in their eyes. He had managed it magnificently till now, of course. He was the one who tormented the golden trio the most, he was the one who was Snape's favorite, he was the one who had shagged two best friends and gotten away with it…shit.

Draco got up and stretched himself. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't really proud of that achievement, even if it had served the purpose of reminding Zabini who was boss. He wanted a proper girlfriend, not a perpetually whining Pansy in his life. Pansy was good in the sheets, but he didn't know what to do with her when she was standing up. She could insult Gryffindors, ok, but that was about it. She didn't have much of a brain, and followed him around and hung on to his arm whenever she got the opportunity.

Draco leaned against the window frame, staring pensively at the riot of colors that was his garden. He wanted a girl who had the looks, certainly, and some amount of brain. Was that too much to ask! Someone who wouldn't mind the fact that her hair were a bit messy with the wind in them, never mind the fact that Draco himself was always perfectly groomed. Someone who could hold her own, and not hang onto him. Someone who wouldn't become a notch in another guy's bedpost the moment his back was turned. Someone who wouldn't call him "Drakie" or "Dracy-poo", he made a disgusted face. Someone who would be fun to be with. At all times, not just in bed.
Draco sighed and turned away. Well, till he found that "someone", he would make do with power. Power was an aphrodisiac in itself. And power he had, he thought as his fist closed around his Head Boy badge. Life may not be good, but it wasn't bad either. He smirked.

A/N: This is my very first fanfic, so be gentle people.