(A/N: Ok, this is something new I've never tried before. The characters, plot, and some dialogue are taken directly from select scenes of Rowling's The Chamber of Secrets. This is the same story as Rowling's book, only told from Draco's point of view. I used to hate Draco, thinking he was a stupid, ugly git, but lately I've come to think there's more to him than meets the eye. It won't all be story though, there will be random flashbacks explaining Draco's life and what made him the happy bastard we all know and love today. Enjoy!)
The Secret Life of Draco Malfoy
Draco had been tense all year ever since his father had hinted that the population at Hogwarts would soon be refined. He had begged and begged but all he received was a lecture on the need to keep oneself out of the "dirty work" that someone else would complete for them. He won't actually kill anyone would he, Draco wondered. Draco had just sent off yet another letter to his father trying to extract hints from the secretive man, but instead received an early birthday present. Brooms!
Nimbus Two-thousands and ones! Enough for the whole Quidditch team! There was no way Slytherin would loose this year - even with that dratted Harry Potter opposing them! Draco excitedly took the bulky package of brooms and ran down into the common room. It was mostly full of older students about to leave for breakfast, but he found another second year sitting across the room. "Hey Crabbe!" he called to the thick necked boy sitting by the fireplace. "Have you seen Flint?" Draco didn't even think twice about donating the brooms to the Quidditch team. He didn't know if that was what his father had in mind, but he'd rather ensure his house's victory than waste the brooms to play with among friends.
"Yeah, he's down in the dungeons - the Quidditch team is having a meeting with Snape."
Without another word Draco raced out of the common room and sped down the spiraling stone staircase which lead to the dungeons. It was early Saturday morning, but there was little hope of his falling back asleep now. A blast of damp, chilly air hit him as he entered the hallway which led to Snape's dungeon. Lots of students felt that the lower chambers of Hogwarts had a creepy feel about them, but Draco was quite at home in them. The air was vaguely reminiscent of the expanse of moor that surrounded the Malfoy manor, in whose hills he had roamed so thoroughly as a child. His quick steps were the only sound that echoed through the empty hall. He paused outside of Snape's door and knocked respectfully. A few seconds later, a large boy stuck his head out and glared at Draco. Draco gulped nervously. He had forgotten the name of the older boy, but he recognized him as the Beater for the Slytherin team, a cruel and ruthless player. Draco was suddenly scared. He was all alone down here with several very large older boys. He was a nothing here. He started to speak but the older boy cut him short. "You're Malfoy right?" Draco was too nervous to speak, but managed to nod. "Come in."
Draco hesitantly followed as the older boy motioned him into Snape's office. It was empty, but they kept on walking, going through an open door on the other side of the room. It led to what appeared to be Snape's personal quarters. The entire Quidditch team was eating a very fancy breakfast that made Draco's mouth water as they sat around the chamber, legs flung over the armrest of the couch and comfortably sunk in the armchairs they sat in. Snape stood by the fireplace and turned to greet Draco warmly when he entered.
"Draco, it is good to see you. I have just received a letter from your father. You have the brooms?"
Wordlessly, Draco held up the bulky package he had brought with him, his thin arms barely encircling his width. Snape took them from his and laid them out on a long table next to the breakfast that was there. "You may take whatever you want," Snape offered, seeing Draco gaze longingly at the food before him. Draco thought he was too nervous to eat and would probably throw it up, but he took a serving of some of the more delicious looking dishes so as to not be rude.
Flint, the team captain, and several other boys examined the brooms with interest. "See how the angle of the tail gives the optimal-", "Wow, that build is just perfect for-", "Came out barely a month ago-", "We'll win for sure-", "Fantastic-" the voices murmured around him. Draco wondered if he should start inching for the door. He didn't want to make a fool of himself, but Snape hadn't dismissed him yet.
"Which broom would you prefer Draco?" Snape asked.
"But sir - there's only seven - I thought the Quidditch team should have them-" he stuttered awkwardly.
Several of the boys laughed. Draco could feel his ears burning. What was going on? "My dear boy, you are the Quidditch team," Snape said, throwing his arms around Draco's shoulders.
"Whuh - you mean - I'm - I'm-"
"We need a new Seeker this year, and have decided that you are most fitting for the job." Draco's eyes landed on the parchment that his father had sent Snape. Following his gaze, the man quickly snatched it away and folded it into his sleeve. Draco understood: the brooms were just a gimmick to get him on the team. Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to protest, to demand a tryout where he could prove he was good enough without his father's help, but that would have been foolish. Instead he smiled widely and said, "I would be glad to offer my services to the Slytherin team!"
Several of the boys smiled. Others tried to hide snickers, but no one said anything against Draco openly - where else were they going to get an entire team set of Nimbus Two-thousand and ones? Besides, everyone knew that Draco was likely to be the next Seeker anyway. Afterall, he was a Malfoy.
Flint quickly introduced him around to the boys scattered throughout the room. They gave the younger boy a quick nod, although one or two actually bothered to shake his hand. "As I was saying before we introduced our new Seeker," Snape said, turning back to address the boys who sat with unconcerned looks on their face, "We are on a winning streak - I expect to see Slytherin's name on the Quidditch cup once again!"
Several boys hooted and stuck their fists in the air like giant gorillas. Draco, who sat between two of the largest boys, felt very small and insignificant. Snape went on to assess each of the boys individually, offering his often biting and cruel analysis of their flying and playing abilities. When he arrived to Draco, he paused before continuing. "And there is Draco. He is extremely nimble and light on his broom, but he's not as swift as some of the other Seekers. To make matters worse, he is a rookie - he's never actually played a game. He needs lots of practice and in the beginning will probably require constant supervision." Draco sunk into his seat and tried to hide behind his plate still half full of breakfast.
Finally Snape finished and retrieved a parchment and quill from his desk. "The Gryffindors have scheduled the Quidditch fields for today, but I will write you a note so that Draco can begin his training," he sneered, wincing at the mention of their enemy's team. The boys slowly got to their feet and began picking out their brooms. Draco selected the lightest one, as the heavier boys would definitely need the thicker brooms. Snape bid them farewell and they left with brooms in hand. Draco looked over his shoulder as he left to find Snape staring intensely at him with a calculating look on his face. Draco turned back to his new companions quickly and hurried out the door after them.
Their longer legs covered more ground that Draco's and the younger boy quickly fell behind. The towering boys (who looked like men to him) in front of him talked amongst themselves, ignoring the second year who tagged along behind. By the time they reached the Quidditch fields, Draco was at the very back of the pack. No one had said a word to him the way there. He tried to crane his neck around the boys in front of him to see the Gryffindor's reaction. From what he heard of the conversation, they had given the Gryffindors Snape's note - they were now protesting, asking who this new Seeker was. As if parted by magic, a path opened through the older boys and Draco walked through proudly, holding his new broom highly for all to see. They were only Gryffindors - Draco was able to push aside his anxiety over his first Quidditch practice to face them with his usual confidence.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the Weasley twins asked. The nerve!, Draco thought. The grudge between the Malfoys and Weasleys was deep-seating; it emerged somewhere from Arthur and Lucius's schooldays and had passed down to their children.
Flint took the opportunity, at the mention of the elder Malfoy to show them the new brooms the Slytherin team now possessed. Draco couldn't help smirking at the look of astonishment that covered the faces of the Gryffindors. Let's see how quickly your mouth drops open in the same fashion when you see me fly, Draco thought smugly. Draco let the older Slytherin talk. Flint continued to insult the Gryffindor's old brooms (some of them Cleansweeps! for Merlin's sake). Draco watched several others run over from the stands. It was Hermione, Ron, and that annoying little first year who had been following Harry around forever. Stupid Potter and his stupid fan club. Well he wasn't the only second year who was Seeker anymore.
Ron eyed Draco's Slytherin Quidditch robes and demanded, "What's he doing here?"
Draco stepped forward. He could handle this Weasley on his own. "I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Draco said smugly. "Everyone's been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Great, just had to mention father didn't you, Draco mentally chastised himself. He tried to change the subject from his newly bought broom to the Weasley's pathetically old brooms. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team can manage to raise enough gold to buy new brooms too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." Draco smirked, quite pleased with himself; some of the older Slytherin boys guffawed at his wit.
But then Hermione stepped forward and said, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." Damn her, damn her, damn her! How had she seen right through Draco's front? Wasn't it bad enough that she was better at him in _everything_, in every freakin' class they had together? No she had to insult his one chance at fame as a Seeker for the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts? She wasn't even from a wizarding family - she hadn't gone through the grueling training beforehand that Draco's father had made him do before he came to Hogwarts. All those long lectures and books and potions, every failure greeted by his father's shouting, "I won't have my own son be called an ignoramus! You call this a potion? Do it again!" Something snapped inside of Draco. If he had his wand on him he would have quickly used it, but he did not.
He snarled stupidly, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!" The entire Gryffindor team was in an uproar at his words. Too late he realized his mistake: Mudblood was a nasty word that he heard his father shout at home, but one he was told to never say in public. But it was too late to take it back now.
Ron had his wand, however. He drew out the twisted and bent stick and shouted at Draco. Instead of being hit by magic Draco saw from under Flint's arm, who had jumped in front of Draco to protect him from being torn apart by Gryffindors, that the magic came out of the wrong end and hit Ron with a big *umph* in the stomach. Draco watched as Ron leaned over and vomited a large quantity of green slime and living slugs onto the grass of the Quidditch field.
The entire Slytherin team was in hysterics as the Gryffindors crowded around their fallen friend. Draco fell to the ground on all fours, his face pressed against the grass, and laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe. Someone took Ron away, probably the other members of the dream team, and the Gryffindors left, grumbling under their breaths.
"Let's get started team," Flint said, taking the lead as soon as the Mudblood lovers were gone. Flint, despite looking and acting like an overgrown gorilla, was a master tactician. He knew every person's weak spot and constantly exposed it to make them stronger. At one point he had the whole team watch Draco's dive. "You're too shaky; you need to hold your broom steadier or you'll waste time weaving back in forth instead of moving forward and the other Seekers will have an advantage over you," Flint said. "Did everyone else see this?" They all nodded. Draco had no idea being on the Quidditch team would be this much work - Flint worked them up to their very limits of endurance. No wonder the Slytherins on the team were so muscular. Draco felt he could barely walk by the time practice was over. He saw now why they had eaten such a large breakfast - they had practiced straight through lunch, taking breaks only to talk strategy with Flint.
His muscles were tight and shaking with exhaustion, but he held his new broom up with pride as he entered Hogwarts. He was the new Seeker, and after today's practice he felt it was a position he had earned.
The Secret Life of Draco Malfoy
Draco had been tense all year ever since his father had hinted that the population at Hogwarts would soon be refined. He had begged and begged but all he received was a lecture on the need to keep oneself out of the "dirty work" that someone else would complete for them. He won't actually kill anyone would he, Draco wondered. Draco had just sent off yet another letter to his father trying to extract hints from the secretive man, but instead received an early birthday present. Brooms!
Nimbus Two-thousands and ones! Enough for the whole Quidditch team! There was no way Slytherin would loose this year - even with that dratted Harry Potter opposing them! Draco excitedly took the bulky package of brooms and ran down into the common room. It was mostly full of older students about to leave for breakfast, but he found another second year sitting across the room. "Hey Crabbe!" he called to the thick necked boy sitting by the fireplace. "Have you seen Flint?" Draco didn't even think twice about donating the brooms to the Quidditch team. He didn't know if that was what his father had in mind, but he'd rather ensure his house's victory than waste the brooms to play with among friends.
"Yeah, he's down in the dungeons - the Quidditch team is having a meeting with Snape."
Without another word Draco raced out of the common room and sped down the spiraling stone staircase which lead to the dungeons. It was early Saturday morning, but there was little hope of his falling back asleep now. A blast of damp, chilly air hit him as he entered the hallway which led to Snape's dungeon. Lots of students felt that the lower chambers of Hogwarts had a creepy feel about them, but Draco was quite at home in them. The air was vaguely reminiscent of the expanse of moor that surrounded the Malfoy manor, in whose hills he had roamed so thoroughly as a child. His quick steps were the only sound that echoed through the empty hall. He paused outside of Snape's door and knocked respectfully. A few seconds later, a large boy stuck his head out and glared at Draco. Draco gulped nervously. He had forgotten the name of the older boy, but he recognized him as the Beater for the Slytherin team, a cruel and ruthless player. Draco was suddenly scared. He was all alone down here with several very large older boys. He was a nothing here. He started to speak but the older boy cut him short. "You're Malfoy right?" Draco was too nervous to speak, but managed to nod. "Come in."
Draco hesitantly followed as the older boy motioned him into Snape's office. It was empty, but they kept on walking, going through an open door on the other side of the room. It led to what appeared to be Snape's personal quarters. The entire Quidditch team was eating a very fancy breakfast that made Draco's mouth water as they sat around the chamber, legs flung over the armrest of the couch and comfortably sunk in the armchairs they sat in. Snape stood by the fireplace and turned to greet Draco warmly when he entered.
"Draco, it is good to see you. I have just received a letter from your father. You have the brooms?"
Wordlessly, Draco held up the bulky package he had brought with him, his thin arms barely encircling his width. Snape took them from his and laid them out on a long table next to the breakfast that was there. "You may take whatever you want," Snape offered, seeing Draco gaze longingly at the food before him. Draco thought he was too nervous to eat and would probably throw it up, but he took a serving of some of the more delicious looking dishes so as to not be rude.
Flint, the team captain, and several other boys examined the brooms with interest. "See how the angle of the tail gives the optimal-", "Wow, that build is just perfect for-", "Came out barely a month ago-", "We'll win for sure-", "Fantastic-" the voices murmured around him. Draco wondered if he should start inching for the door. He didn't want to make a fool of himself, but Snape hadn't dismissed him yet.
"Which broom would you prefer Draco?" Snape asked.
"But sir - there's only seven - I thought the Quidditch team should have them-" he stuttered awkwardly.
Several of the boys laughed. Draco could feel his ears burning. What was going on? "My dear boy, you are the Quidditch team," Snape said, throwing his arms around Draco's shoulders.
"Whuh - you mean - I'm - I'm-"
"We need a new Seeker this year, and have decided that you are most fitting for the job." Draco's eyes landed on the parchment that his father had sent Snape. Following his gaze, the man quickly snatched it away and folded it into his sleeve. Draco understood: the brooms were just a gimmick to get him on the team. Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to protest, to demand a tryout where he could prove he was good enough without his father's help, but that would have been foolish. Instead he smiled widely and said, "I would be glad to offer my services to the Slytherin team!"
Several of the boys smiled. Others tried to hide snickers, but no one said anything against Draco openly - where else were they going to get an entire team set of Nimbus Two-thousand and ones? Besides, everyone knew that Draco was likely to be the next Seeker anyway. Afterall, he was a Malfoy.
Flint quickly introduced him around to the boys scattered throughout the room. They gave the younger boy a quick nod, although one or two actually bothered to shake his hand. "As I was saying before we introduced our new Seeker," Snape said, turning back to address the boys who sat with unconcerned looks on their face, "We are on a winning streak - I expect to see Slytherin's name on the Quidditch cup once again!"
Several boys hooted and stuck their fists in the air like giant gorillas. Draco, who sat between two of the largest boys, felt very small and insignificant. Snape went on to assess each of the boys individually, offering his often biting and cruel analysis of their flying and playing abilities. When he arrived to Draco, he paused before continuing. "And there is Draco. He is extremely nimble and light on his broom, but he's not as swift as some of the other Seekers. To make matters worse, he is a rookie - he's never actually played a game. He needs lots of practice and in the beginning will probably require constant supervision." Draco sunk into his seat and tried to hide behind his plate still half full of breakfast.
Finally Snape finished and retrieved a parchment and quill from his desk. "The Gryffindors have scheduled the Quidditch fields for today, but I will write you a note so that Draco can begin his training," he sneered, wincing at the mention of their enemy's team. The boys slowly got to their feet and began picking out their brooms. Draco selected the lightest one, as the heavier boys would definitely need the thicker brooms. Snape bid them farewell and they left with brooms in hand. Draco looked over his shoulder as he left to find Snape staring intensely at him with a calculating look on his face. Draco turned back to his new companions quickly and hurried out the door after them.
Their longer legs covered more ground that Draco's and the younger boy quickly fell behind. The towering boys (who looked like men to him) in front of him talked amongst themselves, ignoring the second year who tagged along behind. By the time they reached the Quidditch fields, Draco was at the very back of the pack. No one had said a word to him the way there. He tried to crane his neck around the boys in front of him to see the Gryffindor's reaction. From what he heard of the conversation, they had given the Gryffindors Snape's note - they were now protesting, asking who this new Seeker was. As if parted by magic, a path opened through the older boys and Draco walked through proudly, holding his new broom highly for all to see. They were only Gryffindors - Draco was able to push aside his anxiety over his first Quidditch practice to face them with his usual confidence.
"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" one of the Weasley twins asked. The nerve!, Draco thought. The grudge between the Malfoys and Weasleys was deep-seating; it emerged somewhere from Arthur and Lucius's schooldays and had passed down to their children.
Flint took the opportunity, at the mention of the elder Malfoy to show them the new brooms the Slytherin team now possessed. Draco couldn't help smirking at the look of astonishment that covered the faces of the Gryffindors. Let's see how quickly your mouth drops open in the same fashion when you see me fly, Draco thought smugly. Draco let the older Slytherin talk. Flint continued to insult the Gryffindor's old brooms (some of them Cleansweeps! for Merlin's sake). Draco watched several others run over from the stands. It was Hermione, Ron, and that annoying little first year who had been following Harry around forever. Stupid Potter and his stupid fan club. Well he wasn't the only second year who was Seeker anymore.
Ron eyed Draco's Slytherin Quidditch robes and demanded, "What's he doing here?"
Draco stepped forward. He could handle this Weasley on his own. "I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Draco said smugly. "Everyone's been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." Great, just had to mention father didn't you, Draco mentally chastised himself. He tried to change the subject from his newly bought broom to the Weasley's pathetically old brooms. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team can manage to raise enough gold to buy new brooms too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them." Draco smirked, quite pleased with himself; some of the older Slytherin boys guffawed at his wit.
But then Hermione stepped forward and said, "At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent." Damn her, damn her, damn her! How had she seen right through Draco's front? Wasn't it bad enough that she was better at him in _everything_, in every freakin' class they had together? No she had to insult his one chance at fame as a Seeker for the best Quidditch team at Hogwarts? She wasn't even from a wizarding family - she hadn't gone through the grueling training beforehand that Draco's father had made him do before he came to Hogwarts. All those long lectures and books and potions, every failure greeted by his father's shouting, "I won't have my own son be called an ignoramus! You call this a potion? Do it again!" Something snapped inside of Draco. If he had his wand on him he would have quickly used it, but he did not.
He snarled stupidly, "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!" The entire Gryffindor team was in an uproar at his words. Too late he realized his mistake: Mudblood was a nasty word that he heard his father shout at home, but one he was told to never say in public. But it was too late to take it back now.
Ron had his wand, however. He drew out the twisted and bent stick and shouted at Draco. Instead of being hit by magic Draco saw from under Flint's arm, who had jumped in front of Draco to protect him from being torn apart by Gryffindors, that the magic came out of the wrong end and hit Ron with a big *umph* in the stomach. Draco watched as Ron leaned over and vomited a large quantity of green slime and living slugs onto the grass of the Quidditch field.
The entire Slytherin team was in hysterics as the Gryffindors crowded around their fallen friend. Draco fell to the ground on all fours, his face pressed against the grass, and laughed so hard that he couldn't breathe. Someone took Ron away, probably the other members of the dream team, and the Gryffindors left, grumbling under their breaths.
"Let's get started team," Flint said, taking the lead as soon as the Mudblood lovers were gone. Flint, despite looking and acting like an overgrown gorilla, was a master tactician. He knew every person's weak spot and constantly exposed it to make them stronger. At one point he had the whole team watch Draco's dive. "You're too shaky; you need to hold your broom steadier or you'll waste time weaving back in forth instead of moving forward and the other Seekers will have an advantage over you," Flint said. "Did everyone else see this?" They all nodded. Draco had no idea being on the Quidditch team would be this much work - Flint worked them up to their very limits of endurance. No wonder the Slytherins on the team were so muscular. Draco felt he could barely walk by the time practice was over. He saw now why they had eaten such a large breakfast - they had practiced straight through lunch, taking breaks only to talk strategy with Flint.
His muscles were tight and shaking with exhaustion, but he held his new broom up with pride as he entered Hogwarts. He was the new Seeker, and after today's practice he felt it was a position he had earned.