A/N: Hello. Let's talk about Draco Malfoy. He is a jerk. Period. A sexy, and very cute jerk, but a jerk none the less. Every one hates Draco Malfoy, er, excluding the Draco Freak-fan girls, like myself. Anyway. I was bored, and so I decided to give Draco a good reason for being a jerk. So this is my story, Draco Defiled. I wanted to write a story about Dudley like this one-ish called Dudley Demented, but no one cares about Dudley. Oh well.
Summery: Draco Malfoy. Sexy, cute, controlling, a jerk, a smirk-er, and...defiled? There is more to Draco Malfoy, and Ginny is about to discover that.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
A huddled form cried in shuttered gasps. Pale arms wrapped tenderly around ripped, jean-clad knees. The remaining strap of a torn wife-beater fell slowly off a shaking shoulder. White-blond wisps of hair glided out from behind an ear, and in front of silver-gray eyes. Eyes with tears forming in them. The small, huddled, defeated form was crying. All ready fallen tears had made small, circular water stains on the remainder of the form's jeans. The crying, huddled form was a sixteen-year-old boy.
" Boy," Yelled and angry, and cold voice. " Get out here boy! Hiding is not making the situation better for you, and it's not helping you any."
The teen boy's silver-gray eyes snapped to the door, not three feet away. He held his breath, not daring to make any movements, least he make noise, and signal his whereabouts.
He heard a noise coming from right outside the closet. The handle moved and the boy's heart thumped madly against his chest. He was going to be found. He was sure of it. The boy stood up. He was going to be found, and beaten within an inch of his life.
" Ha," Called the cold voice of the boy's father, triumphantly, as the door flew open. Cold, gray, staring eyes wondered around the closet. The boy was no where in sight. Angry, the blond-teen's father slammed the door shut. The boy waited for the sound of angry, pounding footsteps to completely fade away before he let his breath out. He opened the top of the box he had hidden in enough to allow air in.
The boy knew that he could not get out of the box, and sleep in the closet. For, his father, that cold hearted man, would find him in his sleep. The teen would have no way of protecting himself if that happened.
He leaned back against the side of the box, and let his head fall on his shoulder. The teen quickly fell asleep, breathing through his mouth so he would not snore.
Little boy
Blond-haired man
Had his rights
Took his stand
Was knocked down
But
He learned
To live
Again
The boys eyes opened, and were greeted by dark-brown cardboard. He opened the box, and looked around. He was still in the closet. It had not been a dream as he had hoped.
The boy ran his finger gently under his right eye. It was damp from tears. He looked down at his pants. Ripped, blue, tear stained jeans. The wife-beater he wore was torn, exposing his stomach. He noticed that there were many deep gashes there. The right strap of his wife-beater was torn in half, and the left one had fallen off. Just as they had been when he had fallen asleep. Now he was sure it had not been a dream. It was a night-mare. A living night-mare.
It was after the realization of his state the blond-teen realized why he had awoken. He was hungry. The boy reached for the handle to the door just as the sound of pounding foot steps thundered down the hall, accompanied by the sound of doors being pulled open and slammed shut. These noises were fast approaching the boy and his closet. He jumped into the box, and shut it just in time. Mere moments later the closet door opened. After a brief pause, not more then a few seconds, the door was slammed shut. All thoughts of hunger were quickly abandoned. It was no longer safe to get out of the box.
As the hours wore on, thoughts and plans of escape came to the teen. He had to get out of this place. There was no way he could stay there. If he didn't leave, sooner or later his father would find him. He thought out a plan. The best plan he could think of. He would have to wait until his father passed by again. Then he would have to get to his room and grab his things. Then, using floo powder, he would make his escape to Diagon Alley. He would stay at the Leakey Cauldron until school came around. He went over the plan until he was sure it would work. For hours he went over the plan, until he nodded of to asleep.
Little boy
Always cried
Blond-haired man
Was trapped inside
But out and away
His soul must fly
That's how
He learned
To live
Again
A/N: Well? Nice first chapter? No? Yes? Tell me through review please. Thank you. If you haven't figure out who the boy in this chapter is then, well, I feel for you. However, I will not tell you who he is. Next chapter I will give you another clue. If you cannot figure out who he is after that clue, well, you will have to read that chapters Author's note.