The Real Reason
by Sallene
It was good to be at Hogwarts once again, despite the chaos of arrival night. The great hall had been buzzing with chatter and laughter as the other students watched the sorting ceremony and enjoyed the feast. As the day came to an end, many headed back to their houses, ready to unwind.
The pathetic attempts at conversation (consisting mainly of a few grunts) by Crabbe and Goyle during the feast were enough to get under Draco's skin. He wasn't ready to deal with them yet. He wandered down a hallway until he came to the library. It was deserted, for even bookworms like Hermione Granger wouldn't come here the first night of school. He walked to a remote corner and sat on the window's edge, gazing outside. His thoughts consumed him. Many times he came here after hours so he could be alone. Being a prefect did have its advantages.
This summer had been easier for Draco than previous ones. The improvement at home was due largely to the fact that his father was in Azkaban. He and his mother were alone most of the time, only leaving Malfoy Manor to visit his father. Normally visits weren't allowed, but since Lucius had made so many monetary contributions to the ministry, they were allowed special privileges. Draco shuddered as he remembered what it was like to pass the dementors. If it had been up to him, he wouldn't have made the visits. Not just because of the wraith-like creatures, but because of his father. Lucius was not a man to be trifled with, even in his current situation. He sat up straighter as he thought of the verbal lashing that had occurred during their last visit. He could never do enough to please the older Malfoy.
One particular memory from a few years ago stuck in Draco's mind. His mother had stood up to Lucius. She had said that Draco was doing his best and that he needed his father's love and approval. Lucius had sneered, striking her with such force that she fell to the floor, blood flowing from her lip. Draco had then stepped in. He knew that if he didn't, his father would hurt his mother even more. He had seen it happen before. His father cared for no one but himself. All he desired was more power, and he wouldn't let anything, or anyone, stand in the way of that. Draco had braced himself for what he knew was coming. He refused to cry out, even when he took the last blow that had made him lose consciousness.
Draco shoved the memory out of his head. He refused to dwell on those times. If he thought about them too much, the nightmares would start. Many times he had awoken Crabbe and Goyle in the middle of the night with his thrashing about and cries of pain. Thank goodness those two were so stupid that they didn't ask questions. He just told them it was nothing and they would turn over and go back to sleep. After the nightmares, sleep never came. When he closed his eyes, he only saw his father's cold, gray eyes as he offered his son to Voldemort as a symbol of his loyalty.
The hardest part was not being able to talk to anyone about any of this. He had no true friends and his pride wouldn't allow him to talk to the ones that pretended to be. So, he hid under a cool, snide exterior and feigned hatred for many around him. He would never admit it, but it wasn't really hatred he felt. It was more like envy; envy of those who were loved, who weren't a product of obsession and power.
People like the Muggleborns, who symbolized everything his father hated. Lucius had tried to force Draco to feel that same hatred. He had much envy for them, but couldn't bring himself to hate them. Take Granger. She was a product of love and respect. She had true friends and family. He resented her for that. Not because she wasn't a pure blood, but because she had what he wanted.
Weasley, he despised. It angered him that he would willingly trade places with any member of that wizarding family. They were a family that most purebloods looked down on for being poor. For associating with Muggles. In an instant he would have accepted the ridicule they faced. He would have left everything he was used to just to be accepted. To be loved without reason.
Potter was the worst. Most people felt sorry for the boy, because he had never known his parents. Saint Potter, the boy who lived. Draco loathed him. Not for his popularity or his fame. He hated him for his family. They loved him so much that they died to protect him. James Potter died defending his wife and small boy. Voldemort would have spared Potter's mother if she had only stepped aside from Harry. But no, she would have rather died than let anything happen to her precious son.
It hurt to know that his family was nothing like Potter's. Had Narcissa been faced with the decision, she might have tried to save her son. He doubted it. One look or a threat from his father, and she would back down. Years of ill-treatment had taken its toll. She was only a shell of the woman she had been. He had no doubt what his father would do. Lucius would give him up in an instant to save his own hide. What hurt the most was that even though he knew what his father was; Draco still craved love and approval. And he loved his father in spite of everything.
Draco had no one close to him. Crabbe and Goyle followed him because their fathers were Lucius' fellow Death Eaters. The others feared him because they knew what the name Malfoy meant. A Malfoy would show no hesitation to rid himself of anyone or anything that got in their way.
The only reason he was accepted was because of his name and the money, fear, and power behind it. Granger had said it best during second year when he was made a member of the Slytherin Quidditch team. "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in." He hated admitting it, even if only to himself, but she was right.
He turned quickly as something moved in his peripheral vision. In a flash of red, it quickly disappeared around a bookshelf. He moved silently to follow the sound. Then he saw her. Roughly, he grabbed her arm, whirling her around to face him. A look of surprise, then panic was on her face as her soft red hair settled back around her shoulders. His grip on her wrist tightened as she stammered, trying to break free.
Draco plastered his trademark smirk on his face, forcing the emotions from his eyes. The contempt he had mastered so long ago filled his voice. "Well, well. It seems that I've caught a Weaslette. Where do you get off, spying on me?"
Her fearful expression disappeared, replaced by one of anger and indignation. Her amber eyes narrowed. "I wasn't spying on you, Malfoy, you conceited git." The venom seeped out of her voice as she spoke. "You just looked..." She broke off, uncertain of whether to continue.
"What?" He was surprised into voicing his curiosity. He didn't know why he cared what she was thinking, but the softness in her voice called to him. It was almost as if she really cared.
Ginny was shocked to see some of the coldness leave his expression. He looked truly curious. "You looked so alone. So hurt and hopeless." She knew she shouldn't care. After all, it was Malfoy. He was the one who had made her life, along with those of her friends, miserable for so many years. But, the look in his eyes when she had stumbled onto him had torn at her heart. She had seen that kind of pain before, and no one deserved to go through it.
How had she seen what no one else had? He rarely let his guard down. This slip of a girl had managed to see past it all. Draco's hold loosened and he simply stared at her, his gaze full of uncertainty. His hand dropped to his side, no longer holding her there.
Draco's confusion made Ginny bold. She gently touched his arm and was surprised when he accepted her touch without a word. "We are never without hope, Draco. You just have to find the strength in yourself."
He couldn't have heard her right. She had used his given name. He liked the sound of it. Impossible. He closed himself off, retreating behind a cold exterior once again. "Admirable sentiment." His blood ran cold as he realized how much he sounded like his father.
Ginny drew back, angry for showing compassion and having it thrown back in her face. She glared at him and spun on her heel to leave. She only stopped when she heard him speak. The sound was almost inaudible.
"Ginny?" Draco didn't know why, but he felt compelled to make things right with her. He didn't know how to begin.
Slowly, she turned, raising one eyebrow at him.
He swallowed heavily and spoke. "Thank you." He hoped she realized that he was being sincere.
She didn't answer. She simply graced him with a full smile before disappearing around the corner.
He realized that she was right. With one touch, a smile, and some kind words, she had made him feel cared for. It was a foreign feeling to him, but not an unwelcome one. He lifted his chin and slowly walked back to his common room, a slightly different person than when he had left.
Later, as he drifted off to sleep, thoughts of a small hand, sweet smile, and caring words filled his head. She was right. He was strong and there was always hope.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything Harry Potter related. If I did, I certainly would not be digging for loose change in the bottom of my purse when I want a candy bar.
Special thanks to Jennifer and Judy for their encouragement and for betaing my little piece. You guys are awesome.