Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It all belongs to the glorious J.K. Rowling.
Resistance is the beginning of redemption. The start of the cycle. The source of your change, whether it be of heart, or of mind. Hesitation is the origin of saving yourself, and those around you. It's the cause, and the reaction will define you forever more.
I remember it distinctly. The memory so fresh, like it occurred just moments ago. The undeniable feeling of reluctance when I uttered that foul word. I can still hear the waver in my voice. I felt weak against her. The watery chocolate eyes that looked upon me left the word to die on my lips. I was vulnerable.
I had never thought of others before I said something. I had never given a second thought to it. The proof of my blood's purity was running through my veins, and I had every right to voice my feelings on the matter. It was the way my mind worked then. But a lot has changed.
Time, I suppose, changes just about everything. However, it was not only time that warmed the raw coldness of my heart. It was not only time that altered the beliefs that had been shaped to be as they were for the entirety of my life. It was not only time that took the form of a broken boy, and turned him into a man. It was Hermione Granger.
She was the one to take my impaired soul, and make it whole again. She was the one to heal wounds raw, and fresh with a fleeting smile. She was my salvation. My sanctuary.
There are choices to make in life. They shape you into the adult you will grow to be. Those selections change your life drastically, and dramatically, leaving little room for uncertainty. There was never any room for doubt in my life. Insecurity about my choices would be a weakness I simply could not allow. It just wasn't possible, nor plausible, if I had it my way.
I knew damn well that eyes watched me wherever I went. Especially the damn twinkling ones of the headmasters'. They wanted to know what directions I would take. Which path I would choose. Of course, even Dumbledore didn't see the reason for my sudden change in guidance. The way I asked my godfather for advice, more than my father.
My father.
Those words of endearment don't deserve to be tainted by the person of reference. He was, and still is, a filthy man. One who got involved in too many dirty situations, not only reserved to the Dark Lord's wishes. Lucius Malfoy was a flame not yet enkindled. A fire that was not likely to be put out. No soul, human, or immortal, could ever put a stop to his ways. Voldemort himself couldn't. He could Crucio him to insanity, or even lead him to his death, but his spirit of cold, raw malice would never die. Never.
As his offspring, some of that spirit was given to me. Something I resent fully. However, I've learned much from people I never considered as advisors before. I learned to take things, such as Lucius Malfoy's spirit, and manipulate them. For instance, his passion for the dark arts has been transformed into my adoration of Quidditch. All I ever had to do was try a little harder.
I remember him being so mad. Furious, actually. All because Granger topped my marks in Potions. He said words that still haunt me today…She's not worthy of us. If you cannot exceed her in intelligence, then maybe you aren't either. What kind of father says that? Some encouragement!
But my mind is straying. The story I have to yet to tell isn't about my father. It's Hermione Granger, and I, Draco Malfoy. The romance that defied all rules set by others. Where loyalties are tested, and friendships are broken. This is our tale, and I intend to tell it…
Okay, so should I continue? Did it absolutely suck? I would really love some feedback! Thanks!