"Would you kill to save a life?"
He stepped on the Hogwarts express. The beautiful red engine that was stationary at platform 9 ¾. This engine was taking him to Hogwarts, the place he actually considered home unlike Malfoy Manor. Where he was actually brought up, it held bad memories for him. Times when his father crucioed him, his mother just standing by. Watching the event with a pained expression on her face. It was were the death eater meetings took place, where Voldemort in all his evil sat on his table, discussing how to bring down the ministry, kill off Dumbledore, and eliminate the magical world of muggleborns, or as Voldemort called them "mudbloods". Draco hadn't said that word for years, but the times he did, in his youth, he knew the hurt it caused. Well, the hurt it caused one particular muggleborn. Hermione Granger. He had seen her tears as soon as the hateful word had come out of his mouth. He had just wanted to get on his knees and apologise, beg for her forgiveness. But he didn't show anything. Malfoy's weren't allowed to show feeling, or beg on their knees, or even say sorry to a muggleborn. But he needed to go against those rules.
Night after night, Draco dreamt of what it could have been. If he was friends with Hermione Granger. They could have studied together, had playful arguments about who was the cleverest and hung out together in Hogsmeade. But it couldn't happen, his stupid family, his stupid father, his stupid rules and his stupidity.
"Draco!" Blaise called, "Hey, come sit down."
Reluctantly he did, sitting on the edge of the seat as far away from Pansy Parkinson as possible. His parents had spoken to him about her. They thought she was eligible to be his wife, and were in discussions with her parents about a marriage between the two. They didn't understand that he didn't want to be married in pureblood conditions, he didn't want to be married to someone who was ugly, brainless and obsessive, who his parents, more likely his father, thought would be a good match for business purposes or just simply to look good in the wizarding world. He wanted to marry someone who was pretty, intelligent and there was a spark between them, someone he could have conversations with that weren't about someone else's wife and what that lady had been doing, or the latest article in witch weekly. However, Pansy was exactly that, incredibly bitchy and horrible, forever talking about what some ravenclaw girl had got up to over the summer and how Lavender Brown was a full on slag that boys would use and then dispense like she was nothing to them, and how she was okay with that and got around all of Gryffindor with exceptions of Potter and Longbottom and was halfway through the boys of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw with a few shags in desperate Slytherins.
If the marriage went through it would be like hell for him, his parents always talked about the new Lady Malfoy being intelligent, beautiful, capable and other things that Pansy definitely wasn't , yet Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy still were keen to marry him off to Parkinson. Why? Each day he worried about this, as well as stressing over his task. Voldemort had told him he must kill their Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, in order to save his father. Did he think he wanted to save his father, protect his father? The man who had ruined his childhood, who had got him into this mess, the man who had stopped him from becoming friends and maybe more with people who are perfectly fine? He would rather his father had left him and his mother be. Let them live their own lives without him taking control and forcing them to believe and take impact on his and the Dark lord's ideas on the 'perfect' wizarding world. He would rather kill his father than Dumbledore, Hogwarts and its headmaster had been more of a home and family than his own household could ever have been.
Draco was brought out of his thoughts as she walked past. In all her glory. Hermione Granger. She had grown, not only in height. But she had blossomed into a beautiful woman. Her hair was no longer a bushy mess but brunette waves ending just below her shoulders. She wore a pink jumper that clung to her curves in all the right places, and skinny jeans that showed off her long legs. But his moment was ruined as she lifted her arm up to touch Weasley's. He scowled. 'Were they an item? She was way too good for him! She should be with, with…'
"Ron, where's Harry?" She asked.
"I don't know. He'll be fine. Stop worrying, Mione."
'Trust her to be worrying about Potter; her care for her stupid friends is unnecessary. She should be caring for, for…' He stopped himself, 'For who? Draco? You?'
"Drakey, come on. Let's go." Pansy said. He winced as she said Drakey, what a disgusting name. Couldn't she call him Draco like every other person?
She got up beside him and pushed past Hermione, "Move Mudblood. Don't you know how to respect your superiors? Pfft, and you blood-traitor."
He rolled his eyes, Pansy? Superior to Hermione? You've got to be kidding. As he passed her he brushed his hand against hers, a spark going through his hands, and gave her an apologetic look. Apologising for Pansy's behaviour and words, and saying that it was uncalled for and was not needed and wasn't true either. All in one look. Which she understood.
Draco looked down at the floor again, and stepped off the train, looking up towards the castle. Home.