Chapter One:
For a number of years Draco had questioned the motives of his parents. During his childhood he had always stood firmly behind the idea that everything they did, everything that they believed in, was for him. Perhaps you might describe this as childish arrogance, but to Draco himself this was the working method of the Malfoy Family. As a young boy he had always been given the best of everything in life, when he wanted something, it would be brought to him, without a moment of hesitation, and as a result he had been convinced that his parents, and his grandparents, could do no wrong.
However in recent months he had begun to think, what if their way isn't the only way? Though he could barely even think these thoughts for fear of punishment, the ideas still came to him, what if Mudbloods weren't a scar on the face of Wizarding greatness? What if Slytherin was not the only true house of Hogwarts? What if his parents did not always know the answer?
His ideas had truly come to the forefront of his mind some months ago, when on a cold morning in early spring; three young people had been brought before him. Three young people that he knew, three young people that until now he had detested. Yet when he looked at their faces, the determination in their eyes, and then back to those full of coldness and hatred of his mother, his father and his aunt, he could not help but be repulsed by himself and everything he had stood for until this point. Most of the world believed him to be a murderer, to be as cold and cruel as his Master and his disciples, and in that moment he wanted nothing more than to leave them all behind forever.
After the fall of Voldemort, his parents had been tried, and his mother acquitted. His father, however, was given several years in Azkaban as punishment for his on going loyalty to the Dark Lord, as well as the murder of many innocent victims. Draco himself felt his mother should have been given the same fate, but he knew that sometimes a mother's love could protect people in a way that no one can be sure of. It just happened that in this case it was her love of herself that was the utmost protection.
Draco was sitting in the Drawing Room of the Malfoy's town house, which lay in the small city of Bath, in the West Country, not far from Malfoy Manor. He and his mother had taken refuge here just after Christmas, when the Ministry had seized their main home for investigation. The house, built in Georgian times, was small but beautifully built, though it lacked some of the grandeur which the Manor possessed. There was a fire roaring in front of him, and the curtains were drawn so as to block out all natural light from the room.
"It's not good to sit around in the dark all day, Mother," Draco spoke coldly for the first time that day, "You were spared Azkaban, I would enjoy the daylight all I could if I were you."
"I cannot enjoy my time while your father rots in that place," Narcissa spat back at her son, "I should be kept as much in prison as he did. He has done as little wrong as I have."
"Which is why you should consider yourself lucky not to be with the dementors like Father," Draco replied.
"What exactly do you mean by that?"
"I mean," Draco started cautiously, "that both you and Father should be held responsible for your actions which could be seen in the eyes of many as deplorable."
Narcissa sat silently for a moment, her heavy eyes, which were lined with dark black circles of exhaustion, staring wilding into the ice blue ones of her son, "You foul, insolent little boy!" she hissed violently, "Your father and I believed in a greater world for us all! A world where we would rise-"
"Please spare me your speech, Mother," Draco said to her in a drawling voice, "I've heard it too many times before. I'm going out."
He got up and stormed towards the fireplace, and took a handful of Floo powder. Before he stepped into the fire, however, something in his mind switched on. He shoved his hand, palm still filled with the powder, into the pocket of his trousers and walked to the front door. He opened it, stepped out onto the street and then slammed it angrily behind him, causing the curtained windows of the house to shake. He set off at a brisk pace, with no destination in mind other than away.
"Can I help you?" a voice startled Draco and he looked up to see a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at him. It was a girl, he presumed a Muggle girl by her dress and lack of repulsion upon seeing him. He realised that he must have walked for much further than he had originally thought, as he was sitting on a bench on the other side of Bath.
"No, fine thank you," he said coldly, looking away from the girl, who had the sort of eyes which begged honesty from a person.
"You're not looking like a person who's fine to me," she said in a slight West Country accent, "You've been staring at the ground for a good ten minutes. I was watching you from over there." She pointed at the lawn of a nearby girl's school.
Draco really looked at her now, and saw that she was wearing a suit of dark forest green, which perfectly complimented her milky white skin and dark hair. She had a small number of freckles on her cheeks, and a warm and inviting smile which went well with her kind, yet fiery, eyes. He had never seen a Muggle who repulsed him so little.
"Got into a bit of an argument," he found himself saying in an unusually understated manner, looking at her face, unable to break eye contact, "With my mother actually."
"We've all been there," the girl laughed, "I fought with mine every day of the year while she was around."
"Where is she now?" Draco asked, instantly realising that this was perhaps an intrusive question.
The girl smiled sadly at him, "She died just over a year ago in that freak hurricane up on the hills, you remember it?"
Draco certainly remembered it. Though what he remembered was not a hurricane, but a large giant which had a lot to do with the Dark Lord. A wave of guilt passed over him. This was why his parents deserved to be punished, because innocent people like the mother of this very pretty girl had been harmed because of their actions. He suddenly hated the Wizarding world and everything that it stood for. He suddenly wanted to change everything that he had ever done in his life, purely on the off chance that the girl's mother could have been saved.
"Yeah, I remember it," was all he could say, "I'm so sorry to hear that."
"Wow, you sound like you really mean that, random stranger," she laughed a little, "Did you lose someone recently?"
"One of my best friends died in a fire last year," Draco said, this was the first time he had mentioned the death of Crabbe to anyone other that his mother, and yet he found it remarkably easy, "I was there, but there was nothing I could do to stop it."
He had thought about Crabbe a lot since that night, but rarely had the thoughts been good ones. His total internal repulsion with himself and everything he had stood for had made it so difficult to mourn the loss of a person who he deemed to be so similar. Goyle had been locked up for covert Death Eater activities he had been involved in that even Draco had no knowledge of. The sense of betrayal he felt was conflicting, as although now he was grateful for not having been included, when he first discovered what his best friend had been doing, his initial thought was jealousy.
"Survivors Guilt is always the worst," the girl said, breaking Draco from his internal monologue of self-pity, "That's why I've decided to always make the most out of every day."
"Try telling that to my mother," Draco laughed a little, "She keeps herself locked up inside all day, that's why we fight really."
"Well if I were you I would be fighting with her too," the girl replied, they were quiet for a minute, before she said jovially, "So, I can't call you random stranger forever, do you have a name, mysterious blonde boy?"
"Draco," he replied, instantly worrying that the Muggle might think his name a little odd.
She didn't bat an eyelid, but instead said, "Nice to meet you Draco."
"Do I not get to know your name?"
"Ah, well," she made a falsely nervous noise, "I only really give that out on special occasions."
"Is this occasion not special enough for you?"
"Not yet it isn't," the girl giggled, "I like you Draco. You seem honest and kind."
These were not words that had ever before been used to describe Draco Malfoy. He had been called cruel, selfish, manipulative, vile, evil, but never kind. Pansy Parkinson had once told him he was delightful, but he assumed that was just because she had fancied him since they were about twelve, but this girl didn't seem to be doing this because she had a crush on Draco, she was actually just trying to be nice.
"Well I like you too, Cordelia," Draco grinned at her, as her mouth dropped.
"How did you-?"
"It's written on the front of your notebook," he pointed to the pile of books in her hand, where the name Cordelia Acheson was written in block capitals.
Cordelia looked disapprovingly at Draco, before standing up and saying quickly, "Well I should be going back to school. I've got Maths starting in five minutes."
"I never had much of a head for Arithmancy myself," Draco said, kicking himself mentally for saying Arithmancy rather than the acceptable Maths that she had used.
"You're a strange young man Draco," Cordelia grinned, "Can I get your phone number? Maybe you can continue to be strange some other time?"
"What's a-?" Draco began, suddenly remember the Muggle idea of a telephone before saying, "I don't have one, sorry. Maybe I'll just see you around?"
"Maybe?" Cordelia looked at him sadly, "I don't do uncertainty Draco."
"Definitely."
"Much better," she replied, smiling as she walked back through her school gates, her silky brown her bouncing as she did so. Draco had never believed he could have been so entranced by a Muggle.
Hello everyone! I hope you have enjoy the first instalment of my new story. I've never written any stories from the POV of a character I disliked before, so this could be interesting! Please REVIEW and tell me what you think!
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