Beyond Good and Evil

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What is done for love is always beyond good and evil ~ Nietzche

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Love? Such a fickle emotion. You hear about it all the time, mostly with the beautiful or the wealthy. You hear that everyone finds it and that it's all around you. Every moment of everyday someone is falling in love. Someone is being kissed. Someone is escaping tha shackles of pain that had bound them by finding new love, greater love. You also hear that love has no barriers. That love knows no color, no age, no religion, and no social standard. Love is love. Simple and true. And you wonder, what of good and evil? What of demons and angels, murderers and saints? Can two so different fall in love and truly love?

The quill's vigorous scratching was interrupted by a tapping at the window. Hermione lifted her head, focusing on the snowy owl that hovered outside. Rising from her desk and moseying across the polished wooden floor, she unlocked the window allowing the bird to fly in along with a cool summer breeze that ruffled through the flourishing trees. Hermione reveled in the wind, feeling it slide across her face, comb through her brown hair and whisper into her room. How good it felt to be at home, away from the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts school year, with its essays and reports. With the professors constant nagging and the picking. How she loathed Draco and his goonies for their picking.

Hermione then turned to the owl, which feathers had frizzled up with impatience. It raised its leg, letting her remove the package. The black bird then opened its mouth, demanding a treat for her slowness. Hermione shook her head with a laugh, and placed the demanded treat in its mouth. The owl then spread its wings, taking flight and rushing out her window into the roseate sunset.

Excitedly, Hermione tore open the package. The Daily Prophet fell out onto her bed. She unrolled it and her excitement immediately died. It was whisked out the window by the chilly breeze that had rushed in as soon as her eyes had fallen on the headline. Is Hogwarts finally beaten?

What had happened overnight that had caused such a decline in Hogwarts forces? Hermione's eyes began to skim the article, fear forming in the pit of her stomach, causing her legs to quiver.

Is Hogwarts finally beaten?

During the middle of the night, on November the tenth, Hogwarts was attacked. This mystery attack was unknown by the Ministry of Magic, who during the night, received a note from Hogwarts. As the Minister of Magic, Cornelius fudge said, "I picked up the letter, expecting an update from Dumbledore, because I receive one every week. What I got surprised me into shock. It was a letter from Voldemort himself, telling me how he had entered the school unharmed and now held Dumbledore and the whole of the Order under his control."

Hermione gasped. Voldemort had Dumbledore? What was to happen now? Voldemort would surely sic his evil minions onto the world. Who would stop him with the only wizarding army that could even hold their own against Voldemort was being held captive? The world was doomed and there was nothing she could do about it but sit back and watch the world fall into peril.

Hermione shook her head, pushing her thoughts farther back into her head and continued to read the depressing article that ruined her life and condemned her world to hell.

The Ministry has not yet released to the public what actions they plan on taking to acquire not only the school of many aspiring young wizards, but the family members, fathers or mothers, brothers or sisters of many of wizard and maybe muggle alike. Lord hope they find the answer soon enough to save the innocent live in jepordy.

Hermione folded the paper, placing it on her desk. In a single hundred word article, her world had crashed and burned. How many people in Hogwarts had lost their family in the invasion? How many were still yet to be lost?

Hermione clinched her fist, angry at her self for her hopeless state. She plopped down at her desk, staring at her diary entry. Random words jumped out at her from the page, "Love… all around you… no barriers… falling… good and… evil… demons…"

Hermione nearly knocked the book off of her desk. How differently her thought pattern was just moments before. Those simple seconds had changed the course of her life forever. Forever…

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Hate? How it wrapped a person up in anger. How it powered that person to take such great measures unafraid of the consequences. Hate is such a raw emotion, tearing up the very fibers of the body. Ripping, contorting. How can any one love that which they can hate? Hate is so much better than love, for love withers and dies. But, hate, hate is always there. Growing, growing, till it takes over, till it rules. Hate is a cancer which starts in the hearts of men. Depriving them of joy and replacing it with deceit, greed, the lust for power. It's tearing apart the world, and yet allowing it to progress by destroying the weak and conquering the powerless. Hate ruled. And hatred in men is great…

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As the carriage jerked to a stop, Draco sat down the book Thriving, which was about a man's view on the wizarding world today, about how one should feel, act, treat others. It was a book recommended by Draco's father, and that had told him a lot before he had even began to read it. He lifted his head to fixate his gaze on his mother and father, both so proud and both so arrogant. Narcissa, blond hair tied back elegantly with wisps framing her face. Her icy blue eyes set in the milky white skin made her appear heavenly, which she was far from to any one beside her loving husband and adorable child as she had called Draco since before he could walk.

Lucius, with his pale blond hair and cold blue eyes, was a political man, who reveled in the smell of money and raised his nose at those with unpure blood. Yet, though he seemed like a hideous human being, he loved his family and cherished his wife.

Both were dressed in embroidered silks and fur line cloaks, clothes fit for a Royal family. When the driver, Lami Hugerd, a small time wizard, working his way to Voldemort's inner circle, opened the door, Lucius swept out onto the road below. He held his hand out for his wife, who just as gracefully climbed out of the carriage. When she, in all her beauty, lace and silks, had gathered herself, they began to walk towards the school.

Draco slipped out silently behind them, bringing his book with him. His keen grey eyes scanned the usually light filled school. Now, it was shrouded in darkness, he could feel it. He could even see it in the way the sky had grown grey, dark clouds bulging with rain prepared to fall scattered in its depths. In the school, no lights shone, though dark figures scurried on passed the windows, continuing on their evil deeds.

He, unlike his parents, really wasn't all that evil at heart. Though one is what he has been taught, and Draco grew up on nothing but Dark Arts and the hatred towards muggles, he had acquired a little more through this school that towered over him now. He had acquired the knowledge that life was not all frozen hatred, but that it contained warmth.

His thoughts were interrupted by his father clearing his throat. "Come along, Draco. We must not be late." With a flick of his cloak, he was off, Narcissa trailing beside him, arm looped in his.

Draco frowned, chasing behind his parents into the school that he had known most his life and yet at this very moment, seemed so alien to him. When he entered the foyer, his family was already waiting with Voldemort's hired butler. "Now, that we can begin, I would like to say that we have changed the rooms around a little so you will now be staying in the classrooms, which have been arranged as rooms. Let me direct you to your rooms, where your stuff has already been located."

Draco followed the man in his stiff pressed cloak and odd wording which lead Draco to believe that he was nervous. They walked up the stairs, down winding hallways lighted only by the flickering torches. The only noises were the clicking of boot heels and the snaps of silks. "This is your room, Mr. Malfoy," the butler swept his hand out elegantly to a door Draco had never seen before, Malfoy was etched in black into the polished wood. "Your son's room," Butler inclined his head towards Draco, "is located at the back of your room, behind the tapestry of the curling snake." He paused for a moment. "Is there anything else you need, sir?"

"No," Lucius waved him away. "That will be all for now." He opened the door, holding it open for Narcissa before walking into the room. "Draco, prepare your self," he glanced down his nose at his son. "You cannot meet Lord Voldemort looking like you just crawled out of the trash."

Draco nodded, walking towards the wall and sweeping back the wall hanging. "And Draco," Lucius continued. "Comb your hair." Draco brought a hand up to smooth out his hair which he had begun wearing in a bed-ruffled state much to the distaste of his father.

Without a word to the man who regarded himself as king, Draco entered his room. He sat the book on his desk, staring in the mirror. He had gained most of his father's traits, blonde hair and cold eyes, though his were grey, and he had also gained, through heredity, the ability to look like everyone and everything was beneath you. Draco opened his trunk, pulling from it a black robe, with the curling Slytherin emblem on the left sleeve and on the other sleeve, his mother had sewn Voldemort's symbol of the skull with the snake crawling out of its mouth.

Draco slipped the black cloak over his all black attire, bending over and tightening the laces on his dress shoes, which also happen to be black. Running gel through his hair caused it to slick back like he used to wear it.

He swiftly exited the room, entering his father's where they waited to meet Voldemort. Lord Voldemort, he could hear his father correcting him. Ushered out the door by his mother, they began to walk down the hall towards the beginning of a change in history. A change in his life.

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Is it ever going to be possible for good and evil to be entwined so closely when they live such different lives? One of sunshine and summer breezes and the other of dark shadows and swiftly scurrying silhouettes. One of beauty and one of mystery. Can they ever live together, even if they are in love? Even if all acts performed by these two individuals swept up in the typhoon of emotions are beyond evil and are beyond good and are simply matters of the heart? Can these two really survive?

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Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any of the characters associated with. Only the plot is mine or as close to mine as it can be when every story has already been written. I do hope I brought a new light to the old idea. That is the secret of writing, to write an old idea in a new way. I don't own that either. It's an altered rendition of the quote by Hammerstein, I think.

Dedicated to: the one who feels that love is trivial.

Note: that's the end of the first chapter of Beyond Good and Evil. So, how was it, tell me what you thought, whether or not I should continue. Any thoughts, ideas, comments and god forbid ( : P ) criticism are welcome.

Hope you enjoy!

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