This came to me a while ago, in a thought, just wondering what would happen if the world was fair, so fair in fact that something bad happened. Well soon after that I began writing this. Much more is written on DA but this is edits and there is so much more on this then there is on Deviantart. On DA this is split into two parts and is so much shorter. I hope someone likes this, its a piece of me, just as A Man at the Crossroads is a piece of me, of course the writing is a bit more underdeveloped but I hope in my editing I can fix that. Chapters for this should come faster than the Crossroads story because first of all I have more written of this than the crossroad story and because its so much less work.

Chapter 1

Remaining Frozen

"You're dead, Potter."

"Funny, you would think I'd stop walking around…"

The classroom was dull with students falling asleep and the teacher turning the most interesting topics into a plethora of sleeping children. Lucius Malfoy knew about this specific teacher and made sure I learned history directly from my father instead of this dull ghost. I glanced around the room and noticed Weasel already passed out cold, the Mudblood was furiously taking notes, and Potter was rocking back and forth in his seat, fighting sleep.

When he was younger he probably would waste his time scribbling some pathetic note and sending it to Potter to freak him out. But those days are over… I remember the exact instant they ended and once they did the world seemed so much crueler. It was probably because the most frightening man in existence was restored, but he's gone now and I have become a man. Resting my elbow on the desk, I cupped my chin in my hand and blew out a sigh, lazily writing notes. My eyes never strayed from Potter and his friends for long though.

Blaise asked me for a quill making me momentarily turn my attention away from the trio and hand him one, causing him to gasp. "You're freezing!" He cried making Goyle offer me an extra coat. I declined, I'm always 'freezing.'

For as long as I can remember, there have always been some frozen pieces of ice within my very soul. It makes me wonder if maybe I was destined to be frozen solid. Completely frozen and put off from everyone else. Sounds like a dream, a perfect one that I would gladly fall into. "Class dismissed." The ghost informed us all in his dull voice before floating through the back wall. I stood up and walked over to the door with my bag over my shoulder. This is just another day.

"The lesson too dull for the Wizarding Savior," I asked with a smirk making him glance over and send a glare over at me as he tried to wake up Weasel. Goyle and Blaise held open the doors but before I could get much farther Potter surprised me. His face was red with the heat of his anger as he balled his hands into fists. It was just a stupid comment, not worthy of the rage he's displaying for everyone to see, but maybe it's a show, just like all those publicity stunts were just shows from the Ministry. His face adorning the paper to inspire confidence in a world without He Who Must Not Be Named, it was all a fraud to get everyone to side with the latest minister. Harry is just a corporate tool, or maybe he's already done with that and ready to be a heroic whore next. Who knows the steps of heroism?

"I saved your parents from Azkaban and defended you against the rest of the student body and all you can do is insult me." He hissed letting me see some deep and painful in his eyes. The war must have hurt him more than I thought. I placed a hand on my chest quickly but it was still cold so I just smirked at him. I'm still frozen. He must think he's so brilliant, so cunning, and so kind for all that he did for me and my family. But he's not. I don't give a damn if he did help us or didn't. Either way my life would be stagnant and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

"I'm the bad guy, Potter. That's all I'm ever going to be no matter how much good you do me." I said blankly and then turned around and began to leave. Warm air swept through my hollow chest making me cough to myself until the abomination left and I became cold once more. If only he knew just how many emotions I've frozen over just to remain this calm bastard who isn't affected by his world falling apart around him. He doesn't have a clue how hard it is on all of us, even the ones who did nothing wrong. As long as we are Slytherin, there is payment to be made. There are sacrifices and death, and suicide all because of this world and the stereotypes thrown in our faces. We didn't ask for the Dark Lord, we only asked for a childhood where we could strut about pretending to be the biggest and worst out there. Mindless bullies who didn't have a clue what it would be like to lose everything, but we were just kids, it was a heartless lesson for just a bunch of kids.

We're all pretending everything's normal though, for the other houses. Sure our fighting has calmed down with the knowledge that we hold no power anymore but there is still instances where fighting occurs. Just fragments of moments where we relive our glory. Harry doesn't seem to notice, his life became better after the Dark Lord died, nothing bad has happened to him because of it except maybe a girl going a little too crazy and stripping in public for him. I hate him, and don't hesitate to show it.

Bickering happens every once in a while between Potter and I but it's more of a routine than a desire to hurt his precious feelings. I shouldn't bother, my parents wouldn't approve but that doesn't mean anything. I can do little rebellions here and there. If I didn't then that would show them that I've been chained down. I can't afford to show weakness in front of Potter or anyone here. Not until I know my life and what I'm going to be doing, which I won't know until my parents tell me. They've managed to keep it hidden for a while. Wonder if I'll find out the last day of school or if they'll be generous and give it to me before then.

When I got to the Great Hall for lunch I was pleased to see Pansy had saved me the best seat there. No one dared to face her claws and sit in the places reserved for Blaise, Goyle, and I. They sat down first then I did as well, reluctant as ever to eat a meal at this school. The food was fine, only just up to par but you can't expect much from house elves. The school never allowed personal house elves to cook meals, which is too bad. My parents will probably allow at least one elf with me once I live on my own, not sure if they would be that generous though.

Potter was talking heatedly with his fellow Gryffindors about something but I wasn't paying attention to whether it was good or bad since an owl dropped by and gave me a letter, several students stared at me not knowing why I would be allowed to get a letter outside of the designated mail time. But this wasn't an event to get excited about. Letters are never good in my case.

Opening the letter I saw it was my father telling me that he had sold the last of the dark artifacts that my family owns and that he is being demoted at the Ministry. It went on to say that he may start working in the Muggle department in order to attempt to restore some of the family pride. It ended with a request for me to send a letter to the Crabbe family in Azkaban. Putting the letter to the side, I noticed McGonagall staring at me from the Headmaster's seat. She had a light frown on her face but I could see that she knew that my family was relying on me, for the most part, to restore honor to the Malfoy name. They'll need to keep close contact with me and make sure that I'm acting like a good little wizard.

It was standard and made to be polite and kind in case someone from the ministry snatched it to read its contents. Father has always been cautious in that way. The thought of sending a letter to the family of Crabbe made my stomach twist.

"What does the letter say?" Pansy asked softly, her finger tracing circles on my arm as she looked up at me through her short black hair that had gathered around her pale face. I took in her appearance and the way she was slowly inching towards me before turning away. Too many people have been trying to get on my good side. If they knew it didn't exist then maybe I would finally get my space.

"None of your business, Pansy, and I'd prefer it if you would stop prying into my life." In Slytherin my family is still the best although it's only because my family is the only one who wasn't sent to Azkaban. Most of the Slytherins lost family members to the war, and almost all of them were on the Dark Lord's side. My family helped Potter when he came back to life as well. Our credit will probably remain the best for the next two generations.

"Why are you always so cold?" she whined making me smirk lightly before motioning for Goyle to take care of the problem. He physically moved her from her seat and before she could protest, three Slytherins began fighting to take her place. I ignored them and instead focused on the ceiling, it's cloudy today apparently and we should be expecting rain. Sounds like a great day for Quidditch practice, ice cold rain with harsh winds, absolutely perfect.

The letter would have to wait till later for a reply, or perhaps I just won't send one. Either way my parents could care less. I'm only meant to be a pawn in their social game which they have already lost thanks to alliances to the wrong sort. I am their last opportunity to raise their spot on the social ladder and most likely they will use me till the day I die. The thought didn't sicken me or cause a disgruntled response. No, I'm used to it. I've always known my parents will pick the life I am to lead in order to better themselves; they don't give a damn about me.

I left the Hall then, knowing full well that I had only eaten a bit of Strawberry Buttermilk Soup, the only cold lunch dish the elves thought to make. Sighing to myself I wondered how long it would take until something would finally freeze me completely… because there's something that's not quite apathetic within me, the sooner I find that the better.

Blaise and Goyle had followed after me quickly when I left, allowing me to When I got outside I noticed that another house was at the pitch so apparently I had left too early. Lying down on a slight hill with a tree at the top, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. They were close, too close, I'm never alone, and when the hell will I ever be alone? I just need to… grieve, live, do something. Anything is better than this. In and out, the air left my lungs then filled back in showing that I'm alive. It was soothing, knowing that after everything, I'm still alive.

Frozen sweat covered me as I stared at the strings attached to every joint and muscle I have. I tried to struggle and do anything I could but I was unable to move, the room was dark but the strings were glowing allowing me to only see them and nothing else. Suddenly the strings lifted and I was standing in a dark room with no one there besides me and the puppet master. In a matter of seconds I was walking around in a suddenly crowded room, showing guests to their seats with a brilliant smile. My insides were hollow and cold but my body was beginning to warm with the heat of a fire that seemed to appear by magic. It was at the foot of a long wooden table where people were gathering around.

And at the center of this table was Potter himself.

He was smiling and talking animatedly with the other guests while my puppet master made sure I attended to his every whim, even as my body ached from the pain of constantly running and rushing to get everything done. My brain was heating to dangerous levels but Potter didn't notice this since he was too busy laughing and having fun with my guests.

Placing a goblet of wine in front of him, I watched in horror as he filled it with fire and then handed it to me, demanding I drink it. The puppet master made me take it, and somehow I knew he was smirking and enjoying this. "No!" I screamed but I had no control and without the help of my puppet master, the word was ill spoken and could barely be recognized as the word it is. The goblet was against my lips now and that's when… I died. Fire was bursting from every part of my body, destroying all the frozen pieces of my very being.

"Malfoy," a voice said causing me to open my eyes and stare up at a concerned Goyle as Blaise made sure no one could come near me. I was lying by the lake, cold rain falling down on me lightly but the wind was whipping my blond hair back and forth across my face. "Are you alright?" He asked as I sat up and rubbed my arms roughly, wanting to forget the grotesque dream.

My head felt heavy and my eyes seemed to be thick, making it hard for them to keep open, but knowing that Quidditch practice will be starting soon with me as Captain, I forced myself to get used to the minor annoyance.

"I'm fine, Goyle." I said icily and then wiped myself off just as I noticed Potter and his friends heading back to the castle from the Quidditch field. The Gryffindors get to go first today with their practice and then it's the Slytherins turn, seems as though it is time for me to go to the pitch. Scowling, I got ready for the onslaught I knew would happen thanks to my undoubtedly sickly features. Weasley was the first to notice me, I could tell by that disgusting grin on his face.

"Your past sins finally catching up with you, Malfoy?" Weasel called causing cold sweat to cover me in humiliation at having my enemies notice me when I was having such a disturbing dream. I narrowed my eyes at him before smirking lightly. A good Malfoy always has a good comeback up his sleeve, even if it means undermining the deaths of the ones he cares about.

"What nightmare could I possibly have about my past?" I smirked in response causing the idiot to go red with rage and rush forward, the Mudblood stopped him but Potter walked ahead of them both until he was a couple inches away from me. The power radiating off of him was exhilarating in a painful way. So this is the power which killed the Dark Lord… it's so sick and evil and twisted. Maybe all along Potter has been hiding something from everyone.

"Don't joke about the war, Draco. That's the one thing I can't allow you to do. He lost his brother in that war, and you lost Crabbe and your godfather. Don't make comments like that or else I'm going to have to shut you up for good. I'm not going to be a saint while you go off about something that killed several people I loved." He threatened. A fire was in his eyes, it looked so much like the fire in the goblet from my dream that I found myself taking a step back before regaining my composure. Malfoy's don't get thrown off for something as insignificant as a nightmare. I knew that throwing another insult won't make me win this battle; it'll just involve the already steaming Granger. No, in order to win this battle I have to throw something at them that will make the holy trio think and when they think they will be thinking about something true and painful and deep. Something that shows I'm not the same as I once was.

Taking in a deep breath I frowned and twisted my eyebrows. "The war isn't over, Potter. It won't end until everyone who was a part of it dies." I answered, surprising myself in this truth but I couldn't let him know. He just scowled and stormed off with his friends in a flurry of flames, or maybe that was just my imagination. Either way I was surprised when Granger stared at me with a look on her face that seemed to radiate awe and thoughtfulness. At the very least, one of them will think about this tonight.

"Quidditch practice," Blaise reminded me softly, making me stalk past him, furious that Potter's heat was stuck within me like a sudden illness of some sort. The grass was damp, covering my shoes and the bottom of my robes with mud but I couldn't bring myself to care as the prospect of flying in the brunt of it lured me ever closer to the changing room. Being the Slytherin captain, no one questioned me for being late, all knowing that since I'm also a prefect it would not bode well for them. I glanced over at Crabbe's replacement then looked away.

He was taller than Crabbe and looked a bit thinner with a much more intelligent face. It was as though he was just trying to be better than my old friend in every way that he could be. Why compete with a dead man? What do you have to gain? Taking in another deep breath I patted my moist face with a towel and tried to breathe evenly as something wet filled my eyes, glazing them. The coolness helped me calm down, even as my stomach tightened.

I won't allow it to melt.