CHAPTER 1
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Beneath the surface, there's something he was loath to confess.
Unspoken words, uncomfortable truths, and disjointed memories. Vulnerable longing and desires, lies and constant denials that barely kept him sane. Hurt.
Sometimes it hurt so bad he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Reality hit him in the guts, knocked him over, and a part of him curled in on itself and broke. A part of him remembered and wallowed in regret down dark, abandoned halls. Yet another didn't dare move for fear the illusion it was so carefully crafting would disappear from his mind in favour of what had really transpired-
She had broken him.
Over and over again.
And he had let her.
He had sought it. May the Gods damn him, he had craved for it, just so she would look his way.
Just look at me.
Over the surface, he pretended to be blind, and everything that lay beneath was kept in a padlocked box of blood red velvet he so rarely opened these days. He was so convincing in his act, his lies so plausible- but no more.
He had seen it mirrored in the eyes of his ageing beautiful mother and in the vacuous gaze of his father, kept discerning it in the devoted look of his friends and colleagues, his deception working, almost coaxing him into taking it as the truth. Almost.
But deep down, beneath it all, he knew it would never happen, him giving in to the solace of his own lies. It would be an insult not to his pain but to the torture he had put her through.
At first, he hadn't known better. At first, he had been starved for attention of any kind.
A spoiled brat. If he could, he would go back and smack him upside the head, knock some sense into him- maybe throw in a warning, don't be a prat, Draco, you'll regret it.
He knew he did.
Sighing, Draco contemplated the old photograph laid on the table, a corner trapped under a rocks glass, empty if not for a drop of amber liquid. The dim light of the lamp on the desk filtered through the crystal and projected glowing geometric shapes on the picture- dispersion, a familiar voice whispered in his ears.
Draco smiled weakly, slowly rotating the glass. The two people dancing in the photograph seemed to move in a rainbow of colours, glowing lights swirling around them.
Closing his eyes, he searched for it- the padlocked box.
This was one of those nights, after all.
So he opened it.
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"I'm Malfoy," Draco said.
He was riding the train to Hogwarts for the first time; only five minutes in, the time to drop his luggage and comb his hair, and he was already walking down the corridor, peering in each compartment, hunting for people to befriend, for people he could introduce himself to, just like a good pure-blood boy.
"Draco Malfoy."
He saw her then. Out of the corner of his eye, a small girl stopped two compartments away.
He knew she had heard him, noticed the emphasis on his name, because she didn't try to move, her body angled in his direction. In a moment of panic he feared she understood- that speaking his uncle's name wasn't a way to detach himself from his family, but the opposite... say the name, you're part of this empire, they'll respect you as a member of high society, Mother had taught him. And he was afraid this little girl knew now because she remained there, an indistinct shadow just one breath out of his line of sight-
He turned.
It's as if time had accelerated for everyone but him.
Students kept passing by, jostling down the train, chasing an empty food trolley, unaware, and she was there, leaning against the window in the corridor, three massive books hugged to her chest, a Charmed frog squeezed by the neck in her hand. His eyes flickered between her hair and her new tailored uniform.
He wheeled round and finished his one-sided conversation with Flint. He kept feeling her gaze fixed on the back of his head the entire bloody time. It was unnerving.
When Flint finally slammed the door of his compartment in Draco's face, the boy turned to go find his next victim- and she was still there, grinning.
She hadn't even introduced herself that the girl was already shaking his hand and talking a mile a minute, her bushy hair bouncing with her excitement.
"You have a very peculiar name, I like it, Draco, as in the constellation, right? Did you know you can always see it from our hemisphere? I saw it clearly this summer when I went camping with my mum and dad- Did you know that Hogwarts has an Enchanted ceiling? It's in the Great Hall! It's fake, but imagine, you'll see the sky at night in the castle! I know because I read about it, it's in Hogwarts: A History!"
When she had finished, he was gaping at her, his nose wrinkled- he wondered how she wasn't out of breath after her monologue.
She was looking up at him- up because, even though he was rather small for his age, she was smaller, delicate-
"What's wrong with your teeth?"
Her grin slowly sagged.
Draco sneered, "Are they real or was it an Engorgio Charm?"
She flinched. He didn't linger to see the disappointment take over her face. He spun on his heel and stepped right past her.
He heard it, the unmistakable sound of a strangled sob. The rest was blocked out by the thundering of his heart as he walked away.
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She made it into Gryffindor. She was sitting with Harry bloody Potter and the Weasley brat. She laughed, she read a book, she looked up at the High Table every five minutes, up to the ceiling every two, always that contained grin on her face. Never once she looked Draco's way.
And in all his excitement and confusion for finally eating at the table where his parents had sat, he didn't even realise that his gaze was more on her than his plate.
And then he forgot about her.
At least until their first flying lesson.
It was a warm morning in Scotland. The pale sun was high in the sky and the damp grass smelled of the rain fallen the night before.
It was a Slytherin and Gryffindor lesson- again.
His eyes sweeping over the excited faces of his classmates, Draco thought that whoever had made the schedule had either drunk too much elf-wine or wanted to make sure both Houses lost a fair amount of points every day.
The sight of her trying to call her broom and mount it was pathetic.
Beside her, Potter was showing off his innate skills- but Draco was a good flier, a great Seeker, and when Longbottom lost his Remembrall, he seized the opportunity.
He challenged Potter. His chance to prove himself in front of everyone.
He didn't want to impress her. The thought never brushed his mind while trying his best to remain in the saddle of his old broom, high in the air, a dangerous plunge into the void between him and the ground.
But when at last his feet touched the grass minutes later, she was running ahead with the rest of the crowd- she, who had been angry because no one was allowed to fly without Madam Hooch there, was now smiling at him.
Draco felt annoyance eclipse the disappointment for losing to Potter, but he ignored it because it was nothing.
It meant nothing to him.
And he felt pure savage pleasure when McGonagall walked briskly out of the castle, shouting Harry Potter's name and not his.
Draco looked back at her.
He frowned.
She was still smiling.
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On the 23rd of December, students were gathered in the Entrance Hall, waiting to take the carriages lined on the frozen lake to get to Hogsmeade station and from there take the train to London.
Draco's luggage had already disappeared, taken care of by his personal house-elf, and now the boy was waiting at the rear of a group of students to leave the castle for the holidays.
Tugging on his black gloves, Draco smiled up at the sky framed by the wooden double doors of the hall. It was his first smile after weeks of boring lessons, mostly at the thought of sleeping in his own bed tonight- his four-poster, Sun King bed – but also at the promise of some quiet at last. Books. Chocolate. The company of his dogs. His broom for an hour in the winter night... without his mother knowing, of course.
"Mr Malfoy!"
At the sound of his voice, Draco shrugged his shoulders in displeasure. Dragging in a heavy breath, he spun around and came face to chest with his godfather.
"Yes, Professor?" he asked politely, looking up at the sullen man who was staring at him in return with narrowed eyes.
"Your essay on Monkshood and Wolfbane was not on my desk this morning," the man snapped irritably. "I gave you the whole weekend, Malfoy."
Draco spluttered, "B-but it's the ho-"
"No buts. No favouritism from me, Malfoy. If I don't find your essay in my office within the next hour, I'll take ten points from Slytherin."
"I can't miss the train-"
"Then I suggest you run, Mr Malfoy."
Keeping himself from baring his teeth, Draco stalked past Snape and crossed the hall to race down the stairs for the Dungeons.
He had finished that essay, he just hadn't realised he couldn't be excused from turning it on time. He was a Malfoy, for Salazar's sake, but what good did it do if he couldn't even use his name to turn in assignments a bit later?
Cursing Severus Snape in his head, Draco pushed his way through the Slytherins leaving the common room and finally reached his destination. Fortunately, he knew where the scroll of parchment had been left and, in fact, there it was, in the first drawer of his bedside table.
Homework collected, Draco quickly headed off towards Snape's office, a string of expletives he had picked up from his cousin Nymphadora still uttered in his head.
Speaking of Dora...
"Going home, little Drake?"
Draco rolled his eyes, but he ignored the girl calling him, turned a corner, and from there took a secret passage she had shown him.
When he hurried out of the Potions classroom five minutes later, the seventh-year girl was still there, chatting to some friends.
Head hung low, Draco pretended not to see her.
"Drakee-o," Dora yelled after him, "slow down!"
Draco quickened his pace, still not looking back. Ahead was a point of light, the end of the corridor. He was almost there-
"Effin' slow down, Draco!" Much to his displeasure, the girl was now jogging beside him, a big grin on her face. "Didn't hear me?"
"I'm not supposed to talk to you," Draco muttered, his eyes fixed in front of him.
"Feckin' brilliant!" The girl didn't sound the least upset. "So we can meet in secret or something!"
Draco wrinkled his nose. He reluctantly glanced at her, but only for a moment. Nymphadora was wearing her hair short and bubble gum pink, again. Pierced in her ears were several colourful earrings and at her wrists a dozen bracelets that clinked with every step.
Clenching his fists, Draco hissed at the floor, "I can't talk to you."
"Can't or won't?"
This time his eyes found hers entirely on their own. She was looking down at him, her smile now bitter.
"We had so much fun when you arrived, pulling pranks on Filch- who, by the way, got stuck under the mistletoe in the Entrance Hall earlier, it was hilarious!" She beamed, her eyes staring out into the memory of the old Squib waiting for a kiss. Then the smile died on her lips and she furrowed her eyebrows, "But you started ignoring me. Why?"
"You know why," Draco seethed, finally stopping a few feet away from the door giving on the hall.
"I know why," she sighed, coming to stand in front of him. She folded her arms. "But this is my last year, Draco. This is my only chance to get to know you, because later..."
Dora trailed off, searching his face. Not finding what she had been looking for, she heaved another sigh and bent slightly forwards to look at him right in the eye.
"Don't let them follow you inside the school as well," she told him, shaking her head. "Please. This- stuff, it doesn't matter at Hogwarts."
"Said to a Slytherin," Draco mumbled, turning away.
"I mean it, Draco. You're my little cousin, you matter. I don't want to see you hurt or-"
Or become like them, the boy finished for her.
After giving Draco a peck on the cheek, which he had hastily wiped off with the back of his gloved hand, Nymphadora Tonks had walked out of the castle following her loud friends.
Thanks to his cousin he was now in a bad mood.
He was angry.
He hated everyone.
He hated himself for having written that stupid letter. He should have never asked his mother about this new mysterious cousin he had met the first day at Hogwarts. No, he should have kept the revelation to himself, so now he could- what, exactly?
Lie to himself every time his cousin was near, ignoring the fact that she wasn't of pure blood?
Andromeda Tonks is not my sister, therefore you have no cousin, Narcissa Malfoy had written in a short letter one day after receiving Draco's. Don't you ever mention their names again.
He hadn't asked why- why his mother didn't want him to know about his aunt and cousin. He was smart, he had figured it out soon enough.
One a traitor, the other a-
Draco shook his head. He couldn't make himself say, or think, the word. He knew his cousin, and she was not-
"Filth, they are filth," the voice of his father reminded him.
And his father always spoke the truth.
She was descending the stairs, carrying her luggage like a Muggle. Today she had arranged her hair in a simple plait, although riotous curls still escaped and framed her face.
She was grunting, pausing every four steps to take a breath.
Blowing her curls out of her eyes, the girl looked up and caught him standing behind the crowd of students positioned at the entrance.
He sneered.
She put her luggage down on the step, raised her head haughtily, and drew her wand from an inside pocket of her coat.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The fact that she was using the Levitation Charm not so much for her own good but to show off unnerved him. She really was stupid.
And if she was thinking he was shocked- he noticed the smug look she was so blatantly trying to keep off her face- she was dead wrong.
While students crossed the hall between them, he narrowed his eyes and dared her to look away as he pulled his wand.
He gave a little wave, his lips curling upwards, and a second later something cold and scaly began to slither around his wrist; he didn't need to look down to know that a small garden snake was wrapped around his hand.
The bushy head widened her eyes. Draco let the snake slide over his arm a moment more before Vanishing it.
Now, that was a nice piece of magic, he thought with a smirk.
But when the girl bent to lift her things, Draco felt fury boiling in his stomach. He had just performed wondrous magic, and for her!
Lifting his gaze, he bit his lip to keep a frustrated growl- and then his eyes found it.
He grinned.
Shoving his hands in the pockets of his coat, he looked back at the students waiting by the entrance and at Professor McGonagall, who was monitoring the hall. Clear.
A grin plastered on his face, he sauntered towards the stairs and waited by a column. When she reached him, too busy resting her luggage down to notice his presence, Draco resumed his strolling. He walked to her.
Right into her.
"Whaa-"
Surprised, the girl yelped as Draco bumped into her shoulder, hard. She wobbled, her arms flapping to regain her footing- only to crash into something invisible that kept her upright.
Draco burst out laughing.
Aware of the sudden noise, half of the school turned to look at him, and then at the girl trapped under a bunch of mistletoe.
The hall erupted in laughter. Draco was hugging his sides for the bushy head kept trying to disentangle herself from the invisible arms restraining her, but her legs were rooted to the floor. She looked like a mad scarecrow.
Straightening his spine but still clutching his stomach, Draco saw Pansy and Daphne giggling and pointing at the plant merrily growing over the little Gryffindor's head. He swore that even McGonagall had allowed herself a hint of a smile before blinking and pursing her lips- oh oh, that the professor was now looking right at him meant nothing good. Repressing a shudder, Draco looked back at his victim.
"Merry Christmas," he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
She didn't respond.
So he turned and walked away, the image of her red face streaked with tears following him out of the castle.
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Hatred. Disgust. For the people she surrounded herself with, for her irritating personality, her shrilly voice, and for what she was.
Oh, he knew what she was. They had explained it to him more than once, warned him against ever touching or even talking to them- animals, that's what they were.
He believed it.
But he was only a boy and it wasn't his fault.
"Why?" he asked.
The portrait of his grandfather scoffed under his breath, a pair of glacial eyes staring down his aquiline nose at him. He tried not to squirm under his authoritative gaze.
"Why question the matter, or me, Draco?" he said with a contemptuous smile. "You're a Malfoy, you don't question things, you do what you're told."
"But-"
Abraxas cut him short. "Ask your father if you deem... this matter... questionable."
Draco mentally inhaled. His voice came out smooth, his words reasonable.
"I'm not questioning it." He was. "I want to know what makes them-" 'different' would sound too diplomatic, "disgusting."
The old man cocked an eyebrow but nodded. "They're a mistake. An abomination of nature. They are the mud under the sand- evil and concealed, the moment you touch it, it defiles us with its filth.
They may look innocent and... attractive, but their seduction is poison for we are wizards and they are animals of puny minds. They weaken us. Our blood was never meant to mix."
"Never? Never in our family- how is it possible?" The questions pushed past Draco's lips before he could restrain himself.
His grandfather shot him a look of great indignation.
"Never!" His voice trembled with outrage. "Now stop mentioning them unless you want to be called a traitor!"
After a last glare in his direction, Abraxas Malfoy stepped out of his tall frame at once and Draco was left on his own, in the cold and dark study of his father.
The boy looked out the window- it had started to snow copiously. Snowflakes drifted in circles before touching the grounds of Malfoy Manor.
He thought that if... they were an abomination of nature, then nature had a strange way of creating its mistakes. Were they always so... capable?
It pained him to admit it, but he knew one who was certainly more powerful than him.
Maybe she was a bit different.
Or maybe he was weak.
It was Christmas' Eve and he was spending it alone in his empty house, a blizzard starting to rage outside.
At that moment he decided he hated her for making him doubt himself.
What he did after making up his mind, though...
Back at school after the break, he kept to himself and his House. Or tried to. He failed.
The dragon's egg incident came and went. That had been all him and his stupidity, his desire to put Harry Potter in trouble. That she had been involved wasn't his business.
He was above everyone else-
But he still touched her.
On purpose.
Every time he could. Every single time.
She hated him for it. She would glare at him over her shoulder every time he bumped into her. Sometimes he pretended it was her fault.
"Watch it, beaver," he would sneer.
Other times he smirked at her in return. She cried once... but only once.
"She's ugly," Pansy sneered one morning at breakfast. "Her hair looks like a birds' nest. And her teeth- she should walk around wearing a paper bag on her head."
Sniggering, Draco poured pumpkin juice into his goblet. When he placed the bottle back on the table, he stole a glance at the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. She was reading a book, her face hidden behind the huge tome- her mane was still visible, clearly, and it seemed to stand up with every page she turned.
"I wouldn't keep insulting her, Parkinson, unless you want to give off the impression you're jealous."
To Draco's utter astonishment, Theodore looked up from his copy of the Daily Prophet to give Pansy a knowing look.
The girl gasped. "And why would I be jealous, now?"
Theodore shrugged, leaning back on the bench. "She's smart. You're- pardon me- average."
Pansy's cheeks and neck flushed a deep shade of red but she didn't speak again, choosing to ignore Theodore altogether.
It was true that under all that bushy hair, the Gryffindor swot had a brain. But other than that there was nothing else. Her hair looked hideous, she was small, she was skinny- the fingers gripping the edges of her book were skeletal.
Five minutes later he was bumping into her shoulder again.
"What- Haa!"
Draco smirked maliciously when the girl went sprawling on the floor, her books and parchments following her a second later to fall on her back and scatter all over around.
"Watch it, Mud-"
The words died on his tongue.
Sitting up, the girl looked at him and shot him a glare so fierce he staggered. For a moment his eyes were transfixed on hers and didn't dare move- or travel over her figure, her askew robes, down to her slightly ridden up skirt and a hint of milky legs-
"Watch where you're going next time, stupid girl," Draco spat, kicking her satchel into her side. Then he turned away and briskly walked to Potions.
Only he never managed to get to the classroom because the Potions Master intercepted him as soon as he stepped out of the hallway.
"Mr Malfoy."
Before even hearing his name, Draco felt the professor grasping him by the collar and shoving him down a lateral corridor. His head spinning, Draco moved his mouth to protest and call for help, but when no sound came out he realised in horror that he had been Silenced. Bugger.
Gritting his teeth, Draco let his captor drag him down to the dungeons, or so he assumed that was where they were going judging by the abrupt disappearance of light and the humid air hitting his nostrils.
"What. Were. You. Thinking!"
Severus Snape unceremoniously pushed Draco into a room and closed the door with a flick of his wand.
Panting, Draco leaned against a desk and loosened the tie that had almost strangled him moments ago.
The man whirled on him. "Were you thinking?"
"I don't know what you-" Draco began to say, but the teacher immediately grabbed the collar of his shirt to look at him in the eye.
"That kind of behaviour!" Snape hissed, shaking him. "It's not tolerated in this school! You can't hurt them in the open. If you hate her, use indifference, never violence!"
At last Snape let go of him. The boy braced his hands on the desk behind him to catch himself.
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and followed the pacing of his godfather.
When he stopped to rake a hand through his hair, the man seemed to have calmed down. "You can't let someone see how we treat them. You're a Malfoy, Draco. A mistake like that could cost you everything- alliances, respect, position."
Snape sharply swivelled his head back to him. "Don't do that again."
Draco bit the inside of his cheek. Then-
"It was an accident. She was walking without-"
"Second lesson," Snape cut him short, "never lie if you don't know how to tell the lie."
Draco wanted to retort that, of course, he knew how to lie, but the man's obsidian gaze stopped him.
What gave him away?
"I read it in your face. And I saw you- and it's not the first time you've pulled something like that. Never do it again."
Draco tried not to glare at him.
He hated her.
Now he needed another way to show her just how much.
.
.
His words could be venom, he found out.
Not with the usual insults, but when he put logic behind his words, or what he thought was logic, he obtained the best results.
Telling her why exactly she was unworthy of studying at Hogwarts, or even breathing the same air as him, excited him.
When the worst came out of his mouth, his friends ignored him while Crabbe and Goyle remained at his side, too stupid to say or do anything other than laugh. Good. He wanted all the attention he could get on himself.
Only that she wasn't playing his game any more.
She rarely met his provocations. And if she did, it was because she was never alone, but in the company of her idiotic pair of best friends.
But the evening of the Leaving Feast he saw her walking down the Grand Staircase to dinner by herself. There was no one around, not even the portraits, who had vacated their paintings to go celebrate somewhere secret in the castle- except for the two of them.
At last, he thought, a smirk already tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Hey!"
She almost missed a step when Draco called her.
Catching herself on the banister, she looked ahead, a scowl set on her face, but when her eyes landed on him, her expression of fear was replaced by one of indignation.
Smiling inwardly, Draco quickly climbed the steps and stopped in front of her.
"All alone, are we?" he jeered, looking around as if trying to spot Potter and Weasley hiding behind the paintings. "What happened to Scarhead and Weasel-Bee?"
"Move, Malfoy," the girl tried to walk past him, but he swiftly stepped in her way. She made to move to his other side and he put himself in front of her again.
After a few more attempts she gave up and looked at him uneasily. She wasn't craning her neck as usual- standing one step above him, she was at his same height.
"Please, move," she said weakly.
Draco smirked. "Why? I wanted to talk to you."
"About what?" she snapped, glaring at him. Just the reaction he had been hoping for.
He brought his face close to hers. His voice was a soft purr. "About how you shouldn't talk back to your betters."
He saw the moment she decided to use the old weapon.
No, he didn't want her indifference today.
He needed her to understand what he thought about her.
"I won't talk to you any more, if that's what you want," the girl said calmly. He tutted.
"It doesn't work like that. As for what I want..." Now their noses were almost touching. "I want you to show me respect."
She primmed her lips, her eyes narrowed in defiance.
"You don't deserve all this," Draco waved a hand at the ceiling. "You're unworthy. Beneath all that insolence and that- hair, there's a know-it-all who's begging to be noticed and accepted into a world that, you know very well, you don't belong to. And you try so hard, don't you? It's sickening."
Her pupils were wide, her lips quivering.
"You're an abomination, Granger- you're filth."
With a low growl, Hermione pushed his chest with both hands, but Draco had expected it. He easily shoved her back without losing his balance.
Giving a sharp cry, the girl managed not to fall by crashing against the wall- and then Draco was there, in front of her, pressing his hands on her shoulders, a triumphant sneer on his face.
Hermione thrust her fists into his chest, but he didn't move one inch.
"No Potter or Weasel-Bee to save you now, eh, Granger?" he spat in her ear.
He removed his hand from her shoulder to let it travel to her collarbone, her neck, the soft skin fragile under his fingers. He touched that spot where her lifeblood thrummed. He could feel her heart racing, fast, but not faster than his own-
He was touching her.
As soon as he took notice of where his hands were and whose chest was actually crushed against his own, Draco pushed himself off her.
"You're nothing, Granger," he hissed, taking a step back.
She took a deep, broken breath, her brown eyes sparkling with tears that she stubbornly refused to let fall.
Sealing his lips into a tight line, Draco Malfoy turned round, shot a last hateful glance at Hermione Granger, and walked away.
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A/N: Hello! Ha, wow. My first Dramione. I started writing this story and just couldn't stop. I mean, I already have all the chapters finished, now I just need to edit them a bit- yeah, regular updates for this story (and I can hear Dark Games protesting, I'm sure you can too if you're following my other work.)
The chapters? 14! Because I love 7 as a number, but I also love symmetry- you'll see :D
Draco Malfoy. Honestly, I was scared because he's such a complex character and I adore him, but my brain started developing this story and I just couldn't let it go. And yes, I know I'm writing in male POV again, but I swear the story I'm currently working on (Tomione) is told from a female POV. But I like my comfort zone, so I won't stray too far.
So, what do you think? Don't hesitate to let me know in a review! :D
Thank you and peace out!
