So this story has been through a few iterations. I initially sat down to write a silly smutty one shot involving Draco malfoys birthday and some strippers in the form of an imperiused Hermione, Luna and Ginny. (I might still write a story in that vein)
That all changed though when I looked up the date of Draco's birthday. Poor Draco! His 17th birthday is set at such an awful point in the cannon story line that I felt I just had to explore that. I mean poor guy! There is just soo much going on. What a shitty birthday. Anyway I began writing it as a one shot (which is now part one of 4) but it very quickly turned into a full blown story.
I hope you guys enjoy it. It's my very first fan fic, so please be kind.
After Midnight part one
Chapter one
"I suppose I should be lucky to be alive to have a birthday," he thought. He still hadn't managed to transfer even an apple without messing it up, and he was quickly running out of time.
In less than a month the summer holidays would start and he would be whisked home, away from his mission and back to Him.
If he failed mother would be terrified, even more so than usual, and his aunt Bellatrix would be infuriated that her sister's family had failed him yet again.
He of course would waste no time before expressing his rage that the great Draco Malfoy had wasted an entire year on clumsy mistakes and had still not completed the mission given to him. How would the dark lord punish him, he wondered. It would likely be very painful and very drawn out. "Just let him leave mother out of it" he thought "leave her alone and I'll take whatever you give me."
It was already well past twelve o'clock, nearly one. If he didn't get back to the dungeons quickly and quietly he would have the squib Filch to deal with, or worse, Snape. It seemed that these days he couldn't go to the loo without Snape showing up to help him wipe his arse.
He'd been so focused on that damn vanishing cabinet that he hadn't noticed that the curfew had been and gone several hours ago.
His body ached with tiredness, and pain from the still healing slashes inflicted by Harry. Snape had done a lot in patching him up but the cursed gashes over his chest and arms would take longer than a couple of weeks to heal.
Worse though was the pain on his wrist. He'd heard that marks like the one inflicted upon him one summer ago never really stopped hurting. It would always be there, betraying his true nature to anyone who looked upon it. Reminding him that his life now belonged to the dark lord.
He absently rubbed his wrist, wondering if the raised lines would ever lie flat again.
He sneaked down the starlit corridor, the cold light of the waxing moon bleaching the flagstones ahead. He took the time to reflect that if he managed to get another birthday next year, if he lived that long, he would throw himself the biggest party the Slytherin common room had ever seen.
If he lived that long.
Thanks for reading guys. Constructive criticism would be welcome. Be nice please.