AN: Updated to remove irrelevant author notes.
Slytherin House had a general sense of solidarity. The other houses despised Slytherins, and rightfully so because the emotion was reciprocated, so they were forced into a fairly unified group. Those who did not agree with the dark way of the Slytherin majority, generally possessed enough shrewdness to keep their mouths shut. The same applied to criticizing the Slytherin "royalty."
Draco Malfoy had once been the prince of Slytherin House. He was once the Slytherin House epitome of the prideful, pureblooded witches and wizards in the ring of the Dark Lord. Yet something had happened during his sixth year. He arrived as self-indulgent and arrogant as ever- boasting about his admittance into the Dark Lord's followers. His immaculate appearance and sharp wit were the first to go that year. He was too busy and flustered to put in the time to his perfect façade, and too tired to throw out the witty insults and retorts that had earned him the respect of the house during his first year. His stony coldness gave way to exhaustion, and Slytherins knew better than to display any weakness, especially something as trivial as a lack of sleep. In hushed whispers, a group of first-years had discussed an encounter, which involved a certain blonde-haired prince weeping in the girl's bathroom. The gossips were punished, but the knowledge ate into Slytherin House like an epidemic. Then at the end of the year, the Dark Lord's followers gained entrance to the castle, and in a flurry of mystery, the headmaster was murdered, and their prince and head of house had vanished.
Away from Hogwarts the rumors has circulated and grown. Some said that the prince was a murderer. Some said that he was framed, because a Slytherin would not be stupid enough to commit a murder that he could be caught for. There were, of course, the odd rumors about the prince and the head of house running away together to hide their secret romance, but those were from the more perverse and bored Slytherins.
The summer ended too soon and Slytherin House reboarded the Hogwart's Express. Their numbers had decreased- the children of the highest ranked member's of Voldemort's order had not returned. It was suspected that many dark marks had been received over the holiday. One unexpected face on the train, however, was the pinched, pallid face of Draco Malfoy. He had taken to ignoring most people, including those Slytherins that he had once highly regarded. The two great oafs who shared a room with him were overheard in the common room whispering about his screams in his sleep. Again, the Slytherins doubted their prince. He soon fell out of favor with his housemates. The rule of solidarity seemed not to apply anymore, because they could often be heard snickering about him behind his back. Draco Malfoy was no weakling, however, nor a coward. He fought the Slytherins with his words and his wand at any sign of their disdain, but the seeds had been planted in their minds, and he would never again have the undying respect that he had once commanded.
Where he had once been the epitome, Draco Malfoy then became the enigma. He vehemently defended the pureblood way, but he became agitated at discussion of the Dark Lord. He still hated Mudbloods, most of all that filthy Granger girl, but no longer defended the Dark Lord's murder of them. In fact, once a fifth year boy was bragging about how he was certain to be admitted into the Dark Lord's followers, and how he couldn't wait to lay his hand on the Mudblod trash at the Dark Lord's orders, Draco Malfoy had idly hexed the boy and reprimanded him for being a mindless sheep. Strange indeed were the changes that had overcome their once revered prince.
Draco made his way up a dark, musty corridor at an obscene hour of the night. He rarely slept anymore, and had taken to patrolling the dungeons late at night, just to keep himself occupied. No Slytherin would ever accuse their former prince of having nightmares, but he always awoke yelling when he bothered to go to sleep at all. He slowed as he heard raised voices ahead.
"No, you listen to me, Potter," the voice spat out his name as if it was dirty, "I am tired of you always ordering me around like some kind of sick puppy. I am not a part of your band of merry followers- I am your girlfriend. You tried to be noble before, but it didn't work, did it? I will not play around like a child."
"Ginny," an exasperated voice pleaded, "that is not what I meant. I just don't want you to be out here with me for no reason. You should go back up to your dorm before you get caught, or worse. I've heard terrible stories about these dungeons. I'll check up on Malfoy, then I'll meet you up there in a few minutes."
Draco's eyes narrowed. Check up on me? What does Potty think he is up to? And since when does that little Weasley bint argue with her precious Potter, he wondered to himself.
He heard a growl, then the female voice spat out, "I have had it. I am not going to be like everyone else following your bloody orders all the time, Harry. For Merlin's sake, you could set them off Muggle hunting and they wouldn't think twice about it. You are as bad as Voldemort, maybe worse, because you seem to think that you are fighting some righteous cause. Well I'm done. Have fun with all that on your own."
Draco heard the footsteps split. One set hesitantly made its way back toward the stairs while the other moved quickly toward him. He stepped out of the shadows, wand held at the ready, and prepared to find out exactly why Potty was watching him.
He was not prepared then, when he was suddenly accosted by a mass of flaming red hair as it flew around the corner.
"-the bloody hell was that?" the Weaslette shrieked as she fell to the ground.
Draco suddenly found himself on his back on the cool stone floor. "Mind removing your filthy traitor germs from me? I don't want to be contaminated you see." His steely grey eyes locked on round hazel eyes. She blinked him several times, but did not move. He raised his eyebrow, The saucy little minx just can't get enough of me can she? Not that I blame her. Her filthy little family would probably sell her to me for a few sickles to buy food, and she'd be so proud. Not that I'd buy the smelly little bint. I am far superior to her, he thought as he cruelly shoved her to the floor and stood, brushing himself off.
The Weasley finally snapped out of it. "What is your problem, Malfoy?" she asked while getting to her feet.
"My problem is that my quiet walk was ruined by your childish lover's quarrel, and then you unceremoniously threw me to the floor in your obvious need to be nearer to someone so superior to yourself and your pathetic excuse for a boyfriend."
"Ex-boyfriend, ferret boy."
Ferret boy? Where in Merlin's name do these people come up with this rubbish? "Right, your ex-boyfriend. Can't even manage to keep the-boy-who-just-won't-die, can you? You must be a truly lousy specimen of blood traitor."
"You shouldn't speak about things that you don't understand, Malfoy. It makes you look like a fool, and it doesn't suit you." She turned on her heel and made her way back down the corridor.
"You know, old scar-face is right. These dungeons aren't safe for the likes of you. I'd hate to see one of my Slytherins go out hunting for a little fun and not realize that you were filth until it was too late. Then he'd be ruined. It'd be a shame really, so you should remember to keep your horrid Weasley nose out of this place."
"Your Slytherins? Last I heard, they were all mocking you behind your back. It seems you cry and scream in your sleep like a little girl. How does that work with the Malfoy reputation? Following in your father's footsteps, are you?"
Draco lunged forward and grabbed the Weasley girl's freckled arm and spun her around. Her mouth gaped as she looked at the tight grip that he had on her arm. He growled, "You should take your own advice and try not to talk about things that you don't understand. It makes you look even more intellectually inferior than usual." He released her and disappeared into the shadows with a flurry of his robes. She stared into the darkness before hurrying toward the stairs.