Chapter 1

If I was J.K Rowling I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, so you can be quite sure that everything belongs to her...

It's been a while, so kick my butt if anything's out of order. And no, that doesn't mean you get to flame me, but constructive criticism would be appreciated (:

I wrapped the black cloak closer around my body and took a quick swig of the Firewhiskey, then gently set the glass down on the filthy wood table. I haven't been in The Hog's Head for a while, but Merlin knows I desperately needed a drink. My wrist throbbed dreadfully and felt about twice the size that it should have been. I pushed up my sleeve and stared at the Dark Mark that stood out painfully against my pale skin. A sudden wave of nausea hit me when I felt the serpent slither around under my skin. I was not supposed to feel that, was I?

As if in answer my wrist gave a particularly horrible twinge. I swallowed the bile that had gathered in the back of my throat. A Death Eater does not throw up over a little weirdness, especially if he is supposed to be the heir of the Dark Lord himself. I squared my shoulders and assumed the posture that my father had beaten into me when I was younger. A Malfoy does not slouch. Ever.

The perverted bartender-I heard that he had an unhealthy fondness of goats, if you know what I mean-leaned over my shoulder and grabbed my now empty glass. I quickly pulled down my sleeve to hide The Mark and accidently bumped my swollen wrist against the table. A low hiss escaped my lips and he must have noticed something, because he gave me a strange look. I hid my emotions behind my usual smirk. There would be other times to contemplate them.

"Get your filthy hands away from me, half-blood"

"You-"I promptly ignored the rest of his sentence when his horrid breath hit my nostrils. I wretched loudly and slid as far away from him as I could without falling off of my seat.

"Bloody hell, have you ever heard of a spell called 'scourgify'? If not the muggles have invented this wonderful thing called a toothbrush. I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you purchased one" I gave him a quick once over "Oh, how rude of me. From the looks of you, you probably can't afford one, but do not despair my grimy acquaintance I will make sure to leave something extra for you"

Then without further a due I plopped a galleon on the table and showed myself the door, leaving the somewhat confused man behind me.

The snow crunched under my pure leather Pierre Cardin's as I made my way back up to Hogwarts. I had a sudden urge to pick up a hand full of that snow and press it to my throbbing wrist, but quickly squashed that idea into oblivion. The snow was on the ground and a Malfoy did not pick things up off of the ground. Even if it was my Rolex that had slipped off of my good wrist. We could always buy another one, as my father would say.

My attention was pulled back to reality when I felt something warm flowing down my wrist. I pulled up my sleeve again and saw that The Mark was bleeding again. Brilliant, just brilliant. It must have opened again after I bumped it against that infernal table. I stared at the blood that flowed from my wrist to my fingertips. The droplets fell onto the snow and stood out brilliantly against the almost glowing white. I sat down on my haunches and watched as the tiny droplets fell, completely fascinated.

I wondered what it was about my blood that made it so valuable. So pure. If compared to blood that I have seen before-and I have seen my fair share- it all looked exactly the same. Half-blood, Mud-blood and even muggle blood looked all the same to me, so what is it that makes mine so much better. A burst of laughter escaped my lips and it did not sound exactly healthy. If my father had heard these traitorous thoughts he would have crucioed me until my mind was mush and then beat what was left of me to death.

Lucious had always been fond of exploiting his strength, even if it happened to be his family he exploited it on.

"Malfoy, are you alright?"

I grabbed my wand from my pocket and pointed it at the sudden presence behind me. I know that it wasn't exactly the most threatening of words, but I was trained to attack since I was old enough to know what a wand was, so it's instinctive by now.

In front of me stood a girl of about my age with hazel eyes and chocolate brown hair that flowed to her waist. She wore a black skinny jean and grey jacket that clung to her lithe body. I slowly lowered my wand when I noticed that she wore a Hogwarts prefect's badge on her chest. Only one prefect would flaunt their muggle upbringing.

"Granger?" I asked, surprised. I was shocked to hear how hoarse my voice sounded and quickly cleared it.

"Since when have you gotten so good with your wand?" she sounded just as surprised as I and I quickly tried to divert her attention by purposefully taking her comment the wrong way.

I smirked at her and pulled myself to my full height "And how would you know how good I am with my 'wand', Granger "I made quotations in the air with my fingers when I said wand.

"You're such a pig" she spat "Anyway, I heard from certain sources that you're a few inches short of a full hotdog" she said and waggled her pinkie in the air suggestively.

"So you are stalking me now?" I said and rose a brow "Though I do admit that I am so devastatingly attractive, so terribly gorgeous and so awfully striking that the mere sight of me would crumble the resolve of every female, and even some men, I would think that a bit low, even for a muggleborn"

Granger pulled a face and rolled her eyes "Don't flatter yourself, ferret."

I dropped the smirk and took a step in Granger's direction. She stood her ground like a good little Gryffindor and I ran my eyes down her body taking in every curve to the tips of her leather boots and back up again. A bright blush crept across her cheeks and she subconsciously licked her full ruby lips. I raised my fingertips to her temple and left crimson streaks across her skin as I traced the contours of her face. She shivered under my touch.

"Oh, but Granger, I don't have to" I whispered, then turned on my heel and headed for the castle. I may be late for dinner, but that does not mean I have to be late for dessert. Apple Tarte Tatin would be excellent, right now.

Should I continue or make it a one-shot?

Read & Review