Chapter One

The fire flickered enticingly, trying to draw the silent blonde-haired man closer to the warm red and yellow rays. But he refused to move from his window, no matter how his mind coaxed him to move towards the warm hearth. A shock of lightning raged outside, illuminating the torrents of rain pouring down around the Manor, followed by a low rumble of thunder. His face was coldly impassive as he watched the hurried, rain-washed funeral that was taking place in the family graveyard. The four men carrying the casket set it down on the ground as they reached the deep hole that awaited the wooden coffin. The ground was swimming in puddles as the men quickly lowered the casket into the ground. Then they took the shovels nearby and neatly piled the dirt back into the hole, shoulders hunched as their hopeless capes half-heartedly tried to keep the rain off their miserable bodies. When they uprighted the headstone and had settled it deep at the head of the grave, the four men stood there for a moment, heads bowed, in a single moment of reverence for the deceased Lady Narcissa Malfoy. Then they turned back and crossed the grounds quickly as their bodies obviously wanted warm food, warm drinks, and a warm bed.

His hands clenched as a cold wave of wind twirled in from the open window. The fire wavered protestingly as the wind evilly swarmed around the room, making parchment fall to the ground and playing with the wall hangings so they swung crazily by their hooks. That was all she got? A little hole in the ground for all the times she withstood his father? She should have gotten her own goddamn temple, that's what! She may have not been the best mother, but it wasn't out of spite or because she didn't try. How could she, with her son separated from her at the age of five to the other side of their castle-like home? The only time she ever saw him was at meals, and then he was sitting at the other end of their Great Hall size table; no time for talking, just a smile or a nod. He saw his father way too much more for his liking. Always ranting about the Dark Lord; always going on about how filthy the world was these days. He scowled. Always telling his son that on his eighteenth birthday he was to become a Deatheater…and now, taking away the only living thing that mattered most to him and refusing to let him mourn her.

He sighed, watched as the lighting flashed again. The trees were weeping, their long branches drooping down and crying endless tears of rain.

I wish I could do the same.

A small knock sounded on his door.

"Come in; I can't open the door," he called. A little house elf peeked in, and jumped in as he beckoned.

"Master Draco," the elf squeaked, "Master Lucius requests your presence down in the Great Hall; it is only ten minutes until supper."

"Thank you, Lizzie," he replied. "Did Father say if anyone was going to be there?" Lizzie's eyes got very nervous.

"Lizzie…Lizzie is not supposed to say…" she stammered. "Master Draco…" she was struggling to not beat herself and to pass news onto him, "hide your wand up your sleeve, the Dark One is here!" She gasped the words out, and slammed her head into the wall. "Bad Lizzie, bad Lizzie!" she shrieked as she hit herself.

"Stop, Lizzie. Stop it!" Draco hissed out. "Do you want Father coming up here and finding out you told me something?" She shook her head, eyes wide with fear. "Thank you for giving me the news," he added.

"It is what Lizzie can do for Master Draco," she replied, beaming. He nodded, and she popped out of the room. He sighed as he glanced out the window one more time. Who knew what Voldemort was here for this time? Most likely not dinner…though he liked to do things like that. Trivial little things just to scare his company. He knew for a fact that his mother disliked Voldemort with a passion. She had tried to protest Draco's initiation to the Deatheater Ranks, but his father would have none of it.

Oh mother, he thought to himself. Now you don't have to suffer anymore. He straightened his robes with a little wave of his wand, and checked himself in his mirror.

"Going somewhere, handsome?" the voice purred.

"Stop drooling over me," he snapped back at it. "Just dinner." The mirror just giggled, and he rolled his eyes. Stupid mirror…but yes I am handsome, he thought to himself. At least that what I'm led to believe, he smirked at himself. The girls at Hogwarts sure made that obvious…so were the girls outside of it, come to think of it. He quickly hid his wand in his boot; his sleeve was way too obvious. The robes were meant to be loose and baggy; they would probably notice if there was something hard sticking out if it. Ok, unwanted mental images, he grinned.

He stepped out of the room and headed down the seemingly endless chain of hallways and staircases. He nodded to portraits in the hall and glared at one very annoying armor set that insisted on clanking when it saw him.

Just outside the Great Hall, he stopped and double-checked to make sure that his wand was in place. Then he knocked at the door and opened it to a tenor "Come in."

He stepped into the Hall, and at the front of the table sat his father and Lord Voldemort.

"Good evening, Father. Lord Voldemort," he nodded to the two men.

"Draco Malfoy have you no respect?" Lucius Malfoy hissed. "This is the Dark Lord you are talking to!"

"Nonsense, Lucius," the dark-robed man replied in a hissing manner. "The boy has not taken the Mark yet; he does not have to call me his Lord." He laughed, a cold, ruthless laugh. "But it will come soon enough, won't it, Young Malfoy?"

"That depends," he replied evenly. His father nearly strangled him on the spot for his subordinance, but the Dark Lord just laughed again.

"You have spirit, little one," he told him as the food magically appeared in front of them. "You will do well in my ranks."

Yeah, I will if I ever join your pathetic ranks, the boy retorted mentally as he nodded politely. And whoever allowed you to call me little one? I'm a foot taller than you for Gods sake!

They exchanged a bit of small talk over the meal (whoever thought you could have small talk with Lord Voldemort?), his father laughing as Lord Voldemort told him of the plans to attack some settlement or another. Draco wasn't really listening. He was slowly picking away at his meal, cutting everything up into little bites and courteously shoveling them into his mouth when his father wasn't looking. He was expected to eat quietly and elegantly; after being nagged at for the past 17 years, he really couldn't help but eat while his father's attention wasn't on him. It was much less…examining.

"Well, young Malfoy," Lord Voldemort hissed, "it is your last year at Hogwarts. On your eighteenth birthday, you shall join my ranks. And oh, it just happens to be on…June 1st. The last day of school, I presume?"

"Somewhere close to that," nodded Draco. Stupid prat, does he actually think I will work for him?

"Well, remember to make the mudbloods miserable."

As if I need him reminding me…Draco scowled mentally.

"Yes, Lord Voldemort." His father looked at him scathingly, but turned away as the Dark Lord asked him a few questions that Draco carefully tuned out of his ears. To his utmost regret, Voldemort turned to him again.

"Are you ready to be a Deatheater, young Malfoy?" His red eyes narrowed as the young boy just stared right back at him, and no matter how he tried he just couldn't get beneath the icy exterior. The air seemed to grow a bit colder to Lucius Malfoy's mind, but he dismissed it after a moment.

"Veritio!" Voldemort cried out suddenly, attacking the blonde boy. His blinding white spell hit Draco in the chest, but he did not stir from his place. He just gazed back at him, one eyebrow slightly cocked. Voldemort became angrier.

"Crucio," he snarled. But his red eyes widened again as the boy did not have a single reaction to the curse. He just stared right back at him, the air growing colder and colder. Lucius Malfoy was startled as the windows flew open and rain-turned ice came flashing into the Great Hall.

With one hand, Draco gestured towards Voldemort, which turned the ice daggers around as they targeted the startled Dark Lord.

"Finite Incatatem," he hissed. Draco waved his hand again, and the ice disappeared. It resumed raining outside, and Lucius Malfoy sat stunned.

"We shall see," Draco replied coolly, as if nothing had happened.

"What did you just say," his father demanded loudly. Voldemort waved a hand lazily, his anger vanished. His father looked at his Lord, then back at Draco.

"You are dismissed, young man," he snarled. Draco looked at Lord Voldemort, who nodded slightly.

"Good evening, Father, Lord Voldemort." He smirked at his father as he turned and left the Great Hall.

As soon as his footsteps died away, his father turned to Voldemort.

"I am sorry, My Lord, for my son's obtrusive behavior," he apologized.

"His powers are growing," the Dark Lord mused. "His Elemental powers. It is getting harder and harder to read him. And yes, he does not respect me now," the Dark Lord agreed with a touch of cold amusement, "but he will once he is initiated. He must, at the risk of his life."

"Thank you for your allowances, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy replied gratefully.

"Do not worry for your son, Lucius," said Voldemort. "I'm sure he will not turn away to their side. He will have nothing left in life, and his powers will slowly tear him apart." Lucius could do nothing but nod.

Well, Draco thought amusedly, Lizzie definitely overreacted. I didn't need my wand after all.

Back in his room, Draco had asked the house elf to bring him a few bottles of Firewhiskey. Then he had summoned his trunk and packed it neatly with a wave of the wand. His regular school robes must be bought again; and as a new rule that Dumbledore had owled out, sixth and seventh years were allowed to wear whatever they chose. Within reason, of course. But they were allowed to wear something other than the customary black, and though he did not wear too many colors he was going to take advantage of it. His spellbooks were already ordered; first edition from the publishers. His owl, Apollo, was snoozing in his cage. Draco smiled as he looked over at the bird. Faithful as ever. Well, at least tomorrow he would be able to meet up with Blaise in Diagon Alley. They would be able to talk then. With a sigh, he poured a glass of Firewhiskey, and, dangling the blood-red liquid in his hands, he sat on his chair drank darkly as the fire grew lower and lower and lower…until it went out with a tiny wisp of smoke. He dragged himself out of his chair and drained the last of the Firewhiskey. He then fell onto his bed and dropped into a dreamless sleep, without the shouts and screams that had pained him from way before he could remember…

"Mother, I'm fine! I can go into Diagon Alley just fine with Rae," a redheaded girl shouted exasperatedly. "We're both sixteen; we can take care of ourselves."

"Well, all right, Ginny dear, I was just making sure you don't need my help today," her mother replied worriedly. She bit back the urge to roll her eyes.

"We'll be back before dinner, Mrs. Weasley," Rae promised as she grabbed the red-head's hand and dragged her into the fireplace, throwing a handful of Floo Powder into it as well.

"Diagon Alley," they shouted, and they disappeared in a poof of green smoke.

A few moment later, they landed out of the portal in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Gin, you have soot all over yourself," Rae teased as they brushed each other off.

"Well you're no beauty queen either," she retorted, smiling. Rae grinned back at her, and noted her clothing.

"Please tell me some of that hard-earned money is going towards buying yourself something a bit….flashier…than your old robes."

If it had been anyone else, Ginny would have been offended. But this was Rae; she was one of her best friends. Rae Vardelle had come over from the US, after Ginny visited her that summer; their families were old friends. She had been working in Diagon Alley for the longest time before earning enough money to buy a spot on the Portkey there. Then, Rae had dragged Ginny into a club where they gave out prizes for the best dancers, singers, actors etc. Rae and Ginny had both taken home Best Dancers, but only Ginny held the spot as Best Singer. Rae wasn't bad, but she was better at something else. She was a guitarist. She was the one that brought the music to life as Ginny prepared to sing. Her dark, almost black hair and piercing eyes were classically beautiful. Ginny was more of the soft beauty. Her eyes were a soft brown eyes were always shining, and her infamous Weasley hair had tempered out into a mix of carmine with strawberry blonde and coffee brown highlights. Those prizes both included money, and for their performances in the club the owner had paid them both two hundred US dollars per show they gave. By the time Rae had convinced her parents to let her attend Hogwarts, they had earned well over three thousand dollars. That changed into a hell lot of Galleons and Sickles and Knuts. Ginny had gotten her own small vault at Gringotts; Rae registered for one as well. The two girls walked through the Leaky Cauldron and out the back door, and Ginny tapped the brick and stood back as the wall unfolded into an archway into Diagon Alley.

They chatted happily about the school year as they went into Gringotts, rode the crazy trolley down to their vaults (Rae kept insisting that it was like a roller-coaster; Ginny wasn't sure about that.) and were back up into the sunlight before they knew it.

"What are we going to do first?" Rae asked excitedly.

"Let's get all of our books and stuff first," Ginny decided. "That means we get all the extra time to spend looking at robes." Rae grinned.

"Read my mind again," she chuckled as they headed off towards Flourish and Blotts.

They entered the bustling book shop along with a few other early shoppers. Rae took a deep breath and smiled.

"Books. Can't have enough of them."

"That's what you said about clothes," Ginny teased.

"Hey, can't you just smell the essence of book in here?" Rae demanded, throwing her arms up and almost hitting a poor worker in the eye. "Sorry about that," she apologized. Ginny just shook her head.

"No harm done," the tiny witch wheezed. "Just have to get these down there…"

"Here, I'll help you." Rae helped the elderly witch lower the books down onto their shelf. Ginny pitched in when Rae looked like she was about to topple over with the books in her hand.

"Thanks girls," the witch said gratefully.

"No problem," they replied. They wandered into the bookstore, and while Ginny ordered their books up at the front desk, Rae stood in the back, reading a make-up book and giggling as the female characters chased their unwilling victims all over the page.

"Hey, bookworm, here're your books." Ginny deposited the books at Rae's feet.

"Thanks, Gin." With a wave of her wand, she compacted the size of her books and slid them into her pocket. Ginny did the same.

"Hmm, let's go get our parchment and quills next." Rae nodded at Writer's Corner, the stationary store. Ginny nodded in return.

"Whoa, this is unbelievable," Rae gasped out when they entered. There was one whole section on different type of quills; types of quills to use when writing a formal letter, some of those nasty ones that Rita Skeeter liked to use, and of course quills of different feather types. Then there was a wall of parchment; you could have the standard fading yellow or you could have the modernized white, or something with a flower print on it. To the left was a section of ink. All different colors of ink for the quills. Ginny headed straight for the ink while Rae wound up browsing the quills. They left each other by themselves for a while they examined everything in their store at their leisure.

"Blaise," Draco acknowledged as his raven-haired friend came walking up to him.

"Draco." Blaise Zambini nodded back as they turned together and walked down Diagon Alley. "How have you been these days?"

"Worse than usual," he admitted. "He visited the Manor last night." Blaise's deep green eyes grew solemn.

"That definitely puts a damper on things," he replied. After a moment of hesitation, he asked softly, "And your mother?"

"He wouldn't let me see her," Draco replied softly. "Not even when they put her in her casket and carried her out in that storm to the graveyard. My room was locked. All I could do was gaze out of the window and watch them bury her. At least she has some peace now." Blaise nodded in sympathy. They walked along for a while, browsing the shop windows idly as they exchanged news. After a good hour of talking, they finally ended up buying their books first. They met a few Gryffindors in the shop; one extremely nervous Neville Longbottom actually gulped audibly when the two Slytherin Princes came near him and nearly dropped his books in the process.

"What's the matter, Longbottom? Can't stand to see the grading standards being raised even higher out of your grasp?" Draco had said sneeringly as they passed him. Longbottom had turned a bright pink as they walked away. Then they ran into the two Gryff Beauties; Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. Blaise had dragged him away from them as he caught sight of them; his fear of the two girls was quite real and quite ordinary. Lavender had been out to get Draco and Parvati obviously went for Blaise; those two girls were apparently the splitting image of Heaven to most Hogwarts students, but to the two Slytherins they were nothing more than low class sluts; enough to play with but too disgusting to sleep with. But for Blaise, Parvati had come a little too close for his liking. The girl had taken to following the soft, dark, close-mouthed Slytherin like a goddamn puppy, always whining and giving him the cute eyes when he wasn't exactly paying attention. He was quite sick of her, and had enough fear to keep him away from teasing the. The two silently thanked the gods for not running into the Golden Trio. It was fun teasing them, but they always gave them a hard time, so being the outwardly lazy, handsome boys they were a bit relieved at not having to deal with the infamous Boy-Who-Never-Died.

"Well, now that the boring book part is over, let's see if they have any of the new green ink in," Blaise said to Draco.

"Hey, you're not allowed to buy all of it; you did that last time." Draco followed him into the store.

"Fine," Blaise replied. "I'll go look at the quills first, and this time you get first dibs on ink. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough for my tastes," Draco grinned. He wandered over to the shelves of ink. He quickly overlooked the golds and the reds; those were for the Gryffs. He took a few vials of regular black ink, then headed over to the greens, relishing the fact that he would be able to pick out his favorites first. What he didn't expect was a girl with flaming red hair to be standing there as well.

Ginny stared wistfully at the vial of green and silver ink. It would be so pretty if she could buy the ink. She held in her hands two vials of black ink, a vial of deep gold ink and a vial of blue ink; she really wanted the green ink but was not quite sure if she was allowed to get it. Those were Slytherin colors, after all. Her concentration was broken short as a masculine voice murmured "Excuse me."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said hurriedly, moving out of the way. But as she moved back, she tripped over a small stool that had been sitting on the floor. She fell backwards, but before she could topple into the shelves of ink, a pair of strong arms caught her and she caught her breath.

"Thanks," she said, before looking up to see who her rescuer was. Her eyes widened at the revealed identity. "Malfoy?!"

A/N: Please read and review! Give me a few tips, a few ideas....all is appreciated!