A/N: This is a story my friend wrote. It was her first attempt at fanfiction. These four chapters are what she wrote before she decided fanfiction wasn't for her. I told her I'd post it and put it up for adoption. If you want to submit a review on this story, I'll be sure to pass it along to her.
THE LENS OF PASSION
Chapter 1: Theft of the Wand
His face glistened with sweat as fat tears fell into the sink that he clutched so tightly. White blond hair had fallen over his gray blood-shot eyes. Draco Malfoy couldn't bring himself to look into the mirror that hung to the wall in front of him, because to him, all he would see is a worthless failure and a pathetic excuse for a son. He gave an involuntary sob and shudder as he envisioned a tall, cloaked man with hair quite like his own. The eyes would have been the same, too, although this pair was old and lifeless due to the Dementors that surrounded his Azkaban cell. A cold voice rang throughout Draco's head. "If you do not succeed in the task I have placed before you, you will end up worse than your foolish father."
Draco clutched the sink harder so that his pale knuckles turned red. He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind.
"I won't let you do it," he promised himself, voice shaking, "I won't let you kill us."
"You won't let who kill you!?"
The familiar voice of a girl echoed throughout the bathroom. Draco had almost forgotten that Moaning Myrtle was floating nearby, as she always was when he came in here. He turned his head and saw, through the unkempt hair in front of his face, that her translucent features were etched with a look of genuine concern. Draco gave another involuntary shudder and the ghostly girl moved, almost as if to hug him, when she seemed to remember she could not. He looked back down into the sink. It was quite wet, although the faucet had not been turned on all day. More images swirled through his head, which included the lifeless figure of an old man with a long gray beard covered in blood.
"I'm not a killer," Draco whispered to himself, his eyes shut, "I can't do it." Unable to control himself, he sobbed louder than ever.
Draco heard the door of the bathroom creak open. Instinctively, he dove a hand into the pocket of his robes and pulled out his wand. He spun around right as Myrtle gasped and a voice yelled, "Expelliarmus!"
The wand flew into the air and was caught by a girl with brown-bushy hair. Her own wand was pointed directly at him.
"This is the boys' bathroom!" shrieked Myrtle, "How dare you come in here?"
Hermione Granger did not look away from Draco as she replied.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Myrtle looked furious. She opened her mouth to argue but was cut off before she could.
"Get out of here, Mudblood." Draco's voice was thick but intimidating nonetheless. He wanted more than anything to wipe the moisture from his eyes, but it would have only made it more obvious that he had been crying.
"What if I don't?" Hermione challenged, "You're wandless and I'm not."
Draco suddenly realized that the wand pointing at him was shaking. He smirked.
"You wouldn't dare send a spell at me."
"You had no problem sending one at me," Hermione reminded him. "Fourth year. My front teeth grew four times their size."
"Yeah? They look fine to me."
Hermione smiled. Draco suddenly felt annoyed. It wasn't supposed to be a compliment. He wanted to insult this girl, curse her, but a lump rose in his throat. He looked to Myrtle, who was still staring at Hermione with loathing.
"Tell me what is going on," Hermione said simply. Draco looked back at her again. Her face and the tone of her voice told him that it wasn't a demand but a request, and she was completely serious.
For a single fraction of a second, Draco felt distantly relieved in what Hermione had said. He shook that feeling away instantly, and convinced himself that it would have been a comfort to hear it from anyone.
"Why would I tell a Mudblood anything?"
"Why would you tell a ghost anything?" Hermione retorted, still not looking at Myrtle. The ghost shifted in the corner of Draco's eye, but Hermione went on before she had a chance to defend herself. "A ghost who wouldn't care if you were killed. In fact, she would probably prefer it. I expect she would enjoy the company. The two of you could cry your eyes out togeth-"
Draco, trembling from head to foot, advanced forward before she could finish her sentence. Before he could decide exactly how he was going to cause as much pain as he could to Hermione, she flicked her wand and muttered, "Protego." An invisible shield came between the two of them, causing Draco to stumble backwards a few steps.
"Why, you," fumed Myrtle, who was advancing to Hermione, her eyes filling with what looked like transparent tears, "You filthy, ugly-"
"And you do?" Draco's voice broke, as if he hadn't heard Myrtle at all. Myrtle quickly turned back to Draco and floated to his side for comfort, apparently afraid he was going to start crying again. If Draco could have swatted her away, he would have. He heaved a sigh and turned to the ghost.
"Would you please leave?"
Myrtle looked affronted. She glanced at Hermione, who had still not taken her eyes off Draco. Myrtle burst into sobs and flew into the nearest toilet.
Once the echoes of Moaning Myrtle's sobs faded away, silence fell around them for a few moments.
"And I do what?" Hermione finally said. She had lowered her wand but the Protego shield charm still lingered. Draco's impatience boiled up.
"And you would care if I was killed?" His voice was sinister, and his eyes remained on the place where Myrtle had just been. Another moment passed. When Hermione did not answer, Draco finally turned to look at her. She was looking at him with a curious expression, as if she was trying to figure him out. Draco suddenly felt the most uncomfortable since she had walked in.
Hermione seemed to have felt it too, because she quickly spoke again.
"I'm… I'm a prefect." she said lamely, "I heard crying outside the door. It's my job to help other students and to guide them-"
Draco felt another twinge of annoyance at her answer.
"I don't need guidance from a bloody Muggle," Draco laughed without humor, "And there is no possible way someone as insignificant as you are can help me."
He smirked. It was clear Hermione wanted to attack him but the Protego charm blocked her way. Draco wondered if she would wait for it to fade, or if she would counter charm it, or maybe even forget it's there and run at him anyway. He stood there, still smirking, waiting. Hermione suddenly turned on her heel and marched out of the bathroom. Draco's smile vanished immediately. He hadn't expected that to happen. Without her presence anymore, Draco's torturing thoughts swirled through his head once more. Did the room suddenly become colder? He stood there in the silence, wandless, and more alone than he had ever felt.
