Chapter. 1
Draco Malfoy had always been a hopeless narcissist. He could stand in front of the mirror for hours at the time admiring his own reflection.
He loved the way his hair fell down over his face and almost covered his left eye. He loved the softness of his fair, pale skin, and the silver-like greyness of his almond eyes. He loved the way his hair turned white, like new-fallen snow, during summer. He simply loved being him!
He loved his name as well.
'Draco'...
There was something special about the name 'Draco'. In latin it meant 'dragon', but it could also mean 'serpent', and he found that this quite amused him.
When he had been younger, he had used to dance among the flowers in the garden, singing his name as he swirled along with the gentle summmer-breeze.
It seemed like an eternity since the last time he had done that...
But he was older now, wiser in a way, and he could, perhaps never, do anything like that again.
He sighed and let his head rest in his palms,keeping his gaze focused on his own reflection. The Draco in the mirror looked tired. He stroke a few strands of silvery hair away from his eyes with a slender finger.
He had come to hate the summerholidays. It was great to come home and see his parents, just relax and be himself again, it wasn't that... But lately, everything had changed.
His father would be gone for weeks at the time. And whenever he came home he almost always kept to himself, locked up in his secret chamber behind a bookshelf in the library, which he thought no body knew about.
Draco wondered when it would be his turn. He knew that eventually he, too, would become a Death Eater. He just didn't know when yet.
One day, his father would come and talk to him, prepare him for whatever lay ahead.
He got slowly to his feet, and walked over to the vast windows, which covered almost an entire wall and also featured the door leading out to his private balcony.
He opened one of the windows and climbed out. He had always done it this way, and troughout the years it became a habit.
He liked his balcony. It was large and crescent shaped, with a beautifully carved railing. It gave him a great view, and he could see all the way to the ocean from there.
The sun was about to set, slowly sinking in the horizon.
A strange feeling of emptyness filled him as he stood there, admiring the beauty of it... Again he wondered if his father would care more about him if he became a Death Eater. Or care less if he refused.
His father always had great expectations to him. Always telling him that only the best was good enough. Always go for the gold, reach for the top, die rather than give up and cheat rather than loose... He had heard it a thousand times before. And yet, even though he had been raised to believe in it, he wished that his almost-bests or nice-tries would've been apreciated as well.
He did the best he could, almost at least, how could anyone expect him to do more?
He turned his back to the beautiful sunset, and climbed back inside his room through the window. He had always been quite fond of his room. It was his sanctuary. And it was large too, concidering it belonged to a child. Or rather, once a child...
Was he a child anymore? And if he wasn't, what was he then? He sighed in frustration and lay down on the large four-poster draped in black velvet. He had used to think it was quite depressing having to sleep in a bed draped in black, but it had been like that for as long as he could remember, and he didn't dare to ask for something else. He didn't want it either.
He closed his eyes. Everything was so confusing! Why wouldn't his father be there for him anymore? Why wouldn't he come home? And why wouldn't mother do something? She usually never spoke against her husband. Usually she merely kept quiet and accepted almost anything, as long as it didn't hurt the Malfoy-reputation.
She always put a huge effort in the whole reputaion-thing. She had always been that way.
Many people thought of her as snobbish and arrogant, but they didn't know her. Not the way Draco did, anyway. He had always loved his mother.
He remembered when he was younger, when she used to hold him tight and whisper fairy tales into his ears, always telling him what a beautiful child he was.
He remembered that she used to smell of lavender, and that he used to fall asleep in her arms while he was listening to her heart beats.
It was a long time since he had done that. How he missed her now. How he longed for her embrace... He needed her so much more than before!
His father as well...
It wasn't like he couldn't manage without his parents, far from it! It was just that he had always been the center of attention during his years as a child, and even though he had lived by strict rules, his parents had always loved him.
They still did, he knew that... But they hardly ever showed it anymore. Not like they used to.
Draco sighed slowly and shut his eyes tight. He just wanted to be loved. Was that so much to ask?
These were his last thoughts before he fell asleep...
Draco Malfoy awoke with a start! He lay flat on his back with his eyes wide open. Still shaking madly from a strange, vivid nightmare...
He knew how to impress his father now. Knew what he had to do to gain his precious attention.
He had seen it in his dream. A voice had whispered it into his ears.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and rolled over to his side. How long had he been asleep? Hours maybe. It was already night outside. The silvery moon-light was shining trough the windows, creating an almost spooky atmosphere in the room.
He closed his eyes and tried to recall as much of the dream as possible.
But to no avail, however. No matter how hard he concentrated, no matter how deep down he dug into his mind, searching frantically for a short glimpse of memory, he found nothing.
The dream was slipping away from his mind, like sand trough his fingers, leaving nothing but the faintest trace of fear behind.
Nothing but the voice.
The voice would not disappear.
The sound of this soft, whispering voice...
Slithering trough his ears like a serpent, wrapping itself around his mind...
Whispering those sweet words. Those words. The only way. A way to make his father proud, and cause havoc in the entire wizarding world, all at the same time!
Kidnap Harry Potter...
Draco cupped his hands and filled them with water. He watched it for a moment, staring at his own features vaguely reflected on the blurry surface, before he splashed it in his face. The cool water felt good against his heated skin.
The morning sun had began to rise above the horizon, filling the room with golden light. Draco couldn't help but admire the beauty of it. He rather enjoyed of the miracles of nature.
As he stood there, memories from the previous night came to him.
The dream.
His desperate need to gain attention, and his rather desperate solution...
Kidnapping... He whispered the word to himself, tasting it with his tongue. It was a bitter taste.
It sounded strange, even to him. Could he really kidnap someone, just to make his father notice him again?
Draco loved his father, and had always pushed himself as far as possible, only to impress him. But kidnapping seemed like going a little too far... Didn't it?
He sighed, and directed his attention back to the mirror again. Stroke his hand gently trough his hair, admiring the way it shone in the golden light from the morning sun. Bleached troughout the summer it looked almost like snow, or maybe silver. I really am way too self-absorbed, he thought.
Draco was the complete opposite of his rival, with his smooth, white-blond hair, his grey eyes and his pale skin.
Harry, on the other hand, was darker than night itself it seemed. Large, emerald eyes, and black, untidy hair. And the scar, of course. A thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. The scar that made him so different from everyone else.
Harry was powerful, Draco knew that. He was smart as well, and happened to have twice the amount of luck most people were blessed with. Indeed no easy victim.
But Draco also knew that Harry was sent to live with his relatives during the summer holidays.
They were muggles. As far as he knew, they were supposed to be horrible people, and according to rumours, Harry didn't like them very much at all.
This little piece of information was a great advantage to Draco. The fact that he lived with muggles, meant that he, under no circumstances would be allowed to use magic of any kind. As it was against the law.
It didn't occur to him that he, himself, was an underage wizard, and that he, too, would be expelled if he was caught using magic outside of school.
He pulled on a white shirt and a pair of black jeans. He realised that he looked more like he was attending a funeral, than heading downstairs for breakfast.
Breakfast was served at ten o'clock every morning in the Malfoy residence. This, too, had been that way for as long as Draco could remember.
As usual, a puny little house elf peeked in trough the double doors to his room and announced in a sqeaky voice that breakfast was ready, and that his mother was waiting for him. Draco nodded absentmindedly and looked at himself one last time in the mirror, before he strode past the elf and headed downstairs.
The Malfoy mansion was beautiful, if nothing else. In addition to the five main floors, there was also an attic, a wine cellar, and two, maybe three, old basements. One of them had once served as a torture chamber many decades ago. But none of them were in use anymore, except for storing away old, useless furniture or similar things. And there were always plenty of those. The Malfoy household had many 'things', and quite a few of them were rather useless.
The walls, as well as the floor, was made mostly of grey slate, and it could get quite cold during winter. Of course, most of the floors were covered with thick, soft carpets, and the walls were lined with beautifully carved torches, in addition to the great chandeliers in each of the larger rooms. The furniture were old fashioned, and mostly made of dark mahogny.
Every single detail would give any random visitor a slight impression of the wealth of the family who lived there. This was, of course, done on purpose.
They ate breakfast in the dining room as always. This was probably the largest room in the mansion, and the vast chandelier was truly breathtaking.
Back when he was younger, he had always wondered what would happen if he ever flew up there on his broomstick and picked out one of the diamonds. Would it shine just as wonderful as it had always done, even if it was missing a diamond? Somehow, he didn't think so, and he had never dared to try. His broomstick wouldn't take him high enough either, for that matter, as it was in fact just a toy broom.
His mother was sitting at the end of the long table. This, too, made of mahogny, and covered with a white tablecloth.
"Good morning, Draco," she greeted him as soon as he entered.
"Good morning, mother," he replied, keeping a polite tone. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he sat down.
"Have you slept well?" she asked without looking at him.
"Yes." He decided not to mention the dream to her. "And how was your night, mother?"
"Just fine. I do miss your father of course, but..."
"When is he coming back?" Draco broke her off.
Narcissa merely shrugged. This was quite unusual, as she hardly ever shrugged. But, of course, she missed Lucius just as much as her son.
Draco decided to change the subject. Or perhaps simply just end the conversation would be a better option. He helped himself to some bread and butter, and a few slices of bacon.
"So, what are you planning to do today, mother?"
"I have been invited to a dinner party this evening. I might still go, even if your father doesn't show up. Would it be OK with you if you have to be alone for a while this evening, darling?"
Draco nodded slowly. She was almost never home anymore either. He wanted her to stay home with him for once. But, of course, he didn't say this out loud.
What would she think of him if he did?
He wasn't a helpless little child anymore! He could take care of himself now.
And yet, he felt that familiar little sting in his heart when he thought about spending yet another evening alone.
As he sat there, eating his breakfast in silence, he realized that he couldn't go one like this.
He came home only three times during the year. Was it really that much to expect a little enthusiasm or attention from his parents during these short, precious occasions?
Didn't they miss him as much as he missed them? Did they never look forward to see him again, the way he looked forward to see them?
He wasn't used to being ignored like this. He wouldn't be ignored like this!
At that moment, Draco Malfoy made a decision...
Authors note: Well, what do you think? Think I should continue? How do you like my
new, rewritten version? It's kinda long, I know, but I hope you read it through anyway.
Please tell me if it's too boring! And please keep in mind that English is not my native language,
and that I have never written a Harry Potter fic before, when you review.
Please review, because it would mean very much to me!
Draco Malfoy had always been a hopeless narcissist. He could stand in front of the mirror for hours at the time admiring his own reflection.
He loved the way his hair fell down over his face and almost covered his left eye. He loved the softness of his fair, pale skin, and the silver-like greyness of his almond eyes. He loved the way his hair turned white, like new-fallen snow, during summer. He simply loved being him!
He loved his name as well.
'Draco'...
There was something special about the name 'Draco'. In latin it meant 'dragon', but it could also mean 'serpent', and he found that this quite amused him.
When he had been younger, he had used to dance among the flowers in the garden, singing his name as he swirled along with the gentle summmer-breeze.
It seemed like an eternity since the last time he had done that...
But he was older now, wiser in a way, and he could, perhaps never, do anything like that again.
He sighed and let his head rest in his palms,keeping his gaze focused on his own reflection. The Draco in the mirror looked tired. He stroke a few strands of silvery hair away from his eyes with a slender finger.
He had come to hate the summerholidays. It was great to come home and see his parents, just relax and be himself again, it wasn't that... But lately, everything had changed.
His father would be gone for weeks at the time. And whenever he came home he almost always kept to himself, locked up in his secret chamber behind a bookshelf in the library, which he thought no body knew about.
Draco wondered when it would be his turn. He knew that eventually he, too, would become a Death Eater. He just didn't know when yet.
One day, his father would come and talk to him, prepare him for whatever lay ahead.
He got slowly to his feet, and walked over to the vast windows, which covered almost an entire wall and also featured the door leading out to his private balcony.
He opened one of the windows and climbed out. He had always done it this way, and troughout the years it became a habit.
He liked his balcony. It was large and crescent shaped, with a beautifully carved railing. It gave him a great view, and he could see all the way to the ocean from there.
The sun was about to set, slowly sinking in the horizon.
A strange feeling of emptyness filled him as he stood there, admiring the beauty of it... Again he wondered if his father would care more about him if he became a Death Eater. Or care less if he refused.
His father always had great expectations to him. Always telling him that only the best was good enough. Always go for the gold, reach for the top, die rather than give up and cheat rather than loose... He had heard it a thousand times before. And yet, even though he had been raised to believe in it, he wished that his almost-bests or nice-tries would've been apreciated as well.
He did the best he could, almost at least, how could anyone expect him to do more?
He turned his back to the beautiful sunset, and climbed back inside his room through the window. He had always been quite fond of his room. It was his sanctuary. And it was large too, concidering it belonged to a child. Or rather, once a child...
Was he a child anymore? And if he wasn't, what was he then? He sighed in frustration and lay down on the large four-poster draped in black velvet. He had used to think it was quite depressing having to sleep in a bed draped in black, but it had been like that for as long as he could remember, and he didn't dare to ask for something else. He didn't want it either.
He closed his eyes. Everything was so confusing! Why wouldn't his father be there for him anymore? Why wouldn't he come home? And why wouldn't mother do something? She usually never spoke against her husband. Usually she merely kept quiet and accepted almost anything, as long as it didn't hurt the Malfoy-reputation.
She always put a huge effort in the whole reputaion-thing. She had always been that way.
Many people thought of her as snobbish and arrogant, but they didn't know her. Not the way Draco did, anyway. He had always loved his mother.
He remembered when he was younger, when she used to hold him tight and whisper fairy tales into his ears, always telling him what a beautiful child he was.
He remembered that she used to smell of lavender, and that he used to fall asleep in her arms while he was listening to her heart beats.
It was a long time since he had done that. How he missed her now. How he longed for her embrace... He needed her so much more than before!
His father as well...
It wasn't like he couldn't manage without his parents, far from it! It was just that he had always been the center of attention during his years as a child, and even though he had lived by strict rules, his parents had always loved him.
They still did, he knew that... But they hardly ever showed it anymore. Not like they used to.
Draco sighed slowly and shut his eyes tight. He just wanted to be loved. Was that so much to ask?
These were his last thoughts before he fell asleep...
Draco Malfoy awoke with a start! He lay flat on his back with his eyes wide open. Still shaking madly from a strange, vivid nightmare...
He knew how to impress his father now. Knew what he had to do to gain his precious attention.
He had seen it in his dream. A voice had whispered it into his ears.
He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and rolled over to his side. How long had he been asleep? Hours maybe. It was already night outside. The silvery moon-light was shining trough the windows, creating an almost spooky atmosphere in the room.
He closed his eyes and tried to recall as much of the dream as possible.
But to no avail, however. No matter how hard he concentrated, no matter how deep down he dug into his mind, searching frantically for a short glimpse of memory, he found nothing.
The dream was slipping away from his mind, like sand trough his fingers, leaving nothing but the faintest trace of fear behind.
Nothing but the voice.
The voice would not disappear.
The sound of this soft, whispering voice...
Slithering trough his ears like a serpent, wrapping itself around his mind...
Whispering those sweet words. Those words. The only way. A way to make his father proud, and cause havoc in the entire wizarding world, all at the same time!
Kidnap Harry Potter...
Draco cupped his hands and filled them with water. He watched it for a moment, staring at his own features vaguely reflected on the blurry surface, before he splashed it in his face. The cool water felt good against his heated skin.
The morning sun had began to rise above the horizon, filling the room with golden light. Draco couldn't help but admire the beauty of it. He rather enjoyed of the miracles of nature.
As he stood there, memories from the previous night came to him.
The dream.
His desperate need to gain attention, and his rather desperate solution...
Kidnapping... He whispered the word to himself, tasting it with his tongue. It was a bitter taste.
It sounded strange, even to him. Could he really kidnap someone, just to make his father notice him again?
Draco loved his father, and had always pushed himself as far as possible, only to impress him. But kidnapping seemed like going a little too far... Didn't it?
He sighed, and directed his attention back to the mirror again. Stroke his hand gently trough his hair, admiring the way it shone in the golden light from the morning sun. Bleached troughout the summer it looked almost like snow, or maybe silver. I really am way too self-absorbed, he thought.
Draco was the complete opposite of his rival, with his smooth, white-blond hair, his grey eyes and his pale skin.
Harry, on the other hand, was darker than night itself it seemed. Large, emerald eyes, and black, untidy hair. And the scar, of course. A thin scar on his forehead, shaped like a bolt of lightning. The scar that made him so different from everyone else.
Harry was powerful, Draco knew that. He was smart as well, and happened to have twice the amount of luck most people were blessed with. Indeed no easy victim.
But Draco also knew that Harry was sent to live with his relatives during the summer holidays.
They were muggles. As far as he knew, they were supposed to be horrible people, and according to rumours, Harry didn't like them very much at all.
This little piece of information was a great advantage to Draco. The fact that he lived with muggles, meant that he, under no circumstances would be allowed to use magic of any kind. As it was against the law.
It didn't occur to him that he, himself, was an underage wizard, and that he, too, would be expelled if he was caught using magic outside of school.
He pulled on a white shirt and a pair of black jeans. He realised that he looked more like he was attending a funeral, than heading downstairs for breakfast.
Breakfast was served at ten o'clock every morning in the Malfoy residence. This, too, had been that way for as long as Draco could remember.
As usual, a puny little house elf peeked in trough the double doors to his room and announced in a sqeaky voice that breakfast was ready, and that his mother was waiting for him. Draco nodded absentmindedly and looked at himself one last time in the mirror, before he strode past the elf and headed downstairs.
The Malfoy mansion was beautiful, if nothing else. In addition to the five main floors, there was also an attic, a wine cellar, and two, maybe three, old basements. One of them had once served as a torture chamber many decades ago. But none of them were in use anymore, except for storing away old, useless furniture or similar things. And there were always plenty of those. The Malfoy household had many 'things', and quite a few of them were rather useless.
The walls, as well as the floor, was made mostly of grey slate, and it could get quite cold during winter. Of course, most of the floors were covered with thick, soft carpets, and the walls were lined with beautifully carved torches, in addition to the great chandeliers in each of the larger rooms. The furniture were old fashioned, and mostly made of dark mahogny.
Every single detail would give any random visitor a slight impression of the wealth of the family who lived there. This was, of course, done on purpose.
They ate breakfast in the dining room as always. This was probably the largest room in the mansion, and the vast chandelier was truly breathtaking.
Back when he was younger, he had always wondered what would happen if he ever flew up there on his broomstick and picked out one of the diamonds. Would it shine just as wonderful as it had always done, even if it was missing a diamond? Somehow, he didn't think so, and he had never dared to try. His broomstick wouldn't take him high enough either, for that matter, as it was in fact just a toy broom.
His mother was sitting at the end of the long table. This, too, made of mahogny, and covered with a white tablecloth.
"Good morning, Draco," she greeted him as soon as he entered.
"Good morning, mother," he replied, keeping a polite tone. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he sat down.
"Have you slept well?" she asked without looking at him.
"Yes." He decided not to mention the dream to her. "And how was your night, mother?"
"Just fine. I do miss your father of course, but..."
"When is he coming back?" Draco broke her off.
Narcissa merely shrugged. This was quite unusual, as she hardly ever shrugged. But, of course, she missed Lucius just as much as her son.
Draco decided to change the subject. Or perhaps simply just end the conversation would be a better option. He helped himself to some bread and butter, and a few slices of bacon.
"So, what are you planning to do today, mother?"
"I have been invited to a dinner party this evening. I might still go, even if your father doesn't show up. Would it be OK with you if you have to be alone for a while this evening, darling?"
Draco nodded slowly. She was almost never home anymore either. He wanted her to stay home with him for once. But, of course, he didn't say this out loud.
What would she think of him if he did?
He wasn't a helpless little child anymore! He could take care of himself now.
And yet, he felt that familiar little sting in his heart when he thought about spending yet another evening alone.
As he sat there, eating his breakfast in silence, he realized that he couldn't go one like this.
He came home only three times during the year. Was it really that much to expect a little enthusiasm or attention from his parents during these short, precious occasions?
Didn't they miss him as much as he missed them? Did they never look forward to see him again, the way he looked forward to see them?
He wasn't used to being ignored like this. He wouldn't be ignored like this!
At that moment, Draco Malfoy made a decision...
Authors note: Well, what do you think? Think I should continue? How do you like my
new, rewritten version? It's kinda long, I know, but I hope you read it through anyway.
Please tell me if it's too boring! And please keep in mind that English is not my native language,
and that I have never written a Harry Potter fic before, when you review.
Please review, because it would mean very much to me!