Summary: Draco Malfoy's life is turned upside down once again by the Dark Lord. Every day, he goes down to the Forbidden Forest to release his emotions and be by himself. However, animals aren't the only things living in the Forest…

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. Yet.

Twigs snapped underneath his feet as he made his way further and further into the forest. The trees were not only becoming wider but they were becoming more tightly packed; he was having trouble placing his feet. The distant sound of Hogwarts had finally faded away, only to be replaced by even more sounds. But these were calm sounds, strange sounds. The sounds that you had to listen carefully to before you understood the meaning.
Draco came to a small clearing. The air was fresh, rays of light were scattered through the trees and the Forest seemed to welcome him, as it always did. Making his way over to the largest, oldest and widest tree, Draco reached under a bend in one of the roots and retrieved a battered leather bound book and began to write.

Untold emotions and unspoken thoughts poured from Draco's mind and onto the stained scruffy pages, his hand not moving nearly as fast as he wanted it to.

I hate this place. No, I don't hate it, I love it. But I'm not in the situation to love it. I know what I'm doing is wrong, but he'll kill them. My parents. I'd protect my mother with my life, whereas my father … I suppose seep down I know that I have to protect him. Even after all he's done. Or, rather, all that he hasn't done. All those years of neglect, my childhood memory of him is simply a man with long, blond hair. Yet his actions still disgust me. How he acts around the Dark Lord, desperate to please him. To save his own skin. Yet when I was punished with the Cruciatus Curse for his mistake of losing the prophecy last year, he does nothing. Just stands there and watches, threatens me not to mention it to my mother. Maybe I should have. Maybe then, I wouldn't be here. Maybe then, I wouldn't have to participate in the scheme to kill Albus Dumbledore.

Draco pressed the book shut and carefully placed it back under the rood of the tree. The Forest was the only place he could escape to, let his thoughts run wild, let his guard down. The Forest understood him and provided him help and guidance when he needed it most.

He had only been at school for just over a month and a half, but he found the need to journey into the forest more and more often. Later came the book. He had found it in the Room of Requirement on his first week back and had the urge to keep it. And now here he was, laying in the Forbidden Forest, staring up through the trees, contemplating his twisted life and his unlikely future.

He sat up, regretting his decision not to bring his guitar. Along with the book, Draco had also found this broken guitar in the Room of Requirement. Taking an immediate interest in it, he managed to fix it with the Room's help and had gradually begun learning how to play it. Despite his upbringing, Draco had always had an unusual interest in many Muggle inventions, the guitar being one of them. He was just completely baffled as to how one could invent such bizarre contraptions.
Not only did he play the guitar in the forest, he tried to sing as well – another interest Draco had to hide from society. He was doubted his skill at singing, but he continued to do so nonetheless, finding himself being lost in his own world, focusing on the music. Every time the sky began to grow dark, he reluctantly had to reducio the guitar and make his way back up to the castle.

It was almost daily he came to the Forest, with his excuses to Crabbe and Goyle being 'going to the library to research the Vanishing Cabinets' – that always sent them a mile in the other direction. As for Pansy, he told her he was working on something for her approaching birthday. If he told her he was going anywhere else he would have to expect to drag the whining pig with him too.

Glancing up through the trees, Draco noticed rainclouds rolling in. 'typical British weather,' he muttered to himself, standing up. He looked over his shoulder: he had an odd sort of sensation that something was wrong. Thestrals, perhaps, but then again no. they wouldn't approach a human unless the human approached them first. Shaking his head, he turned away and made his way back up to the castle and towards his ever-darkening future.

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The clearing was now empty. It had been for a long time – ten, twenty minutes. But she had to make sure the coast was clear first. She silently jumped down from the branch on which she was perched upon and made her way to a bend in one of the roots and picked up an old, battered, leather-bound notebook.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! If you have any reviews or suggestions, please submit! I'm sorry for any bad grammar or anything
also, please bear with me. This is just the beginning but I have HUGE plans for this story :D