WARNING: This chapter proves my obsession with Draco's hair! If this frightens you, DO NOT READ ON! But no, really. I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I only wish I owned Draco, oh the fun I would have.

Draco paced the common room that adjoined his and Granger's rooms. He was thankful that Granger had gone to bed early that night; she always managed to get in the way. This whole head of house thing was getting to be more then he bargained for. In fact, everything seemed to be more then he bargained for…

Disgusted with himself, he plopped down on the couch, sick of the squeaking noise the floorboards were making. He stared at the clock; roughly ten minutes. Draco blinked his stormy gray eyes rapidly, falling into his emotionless state that helped him deal with these situations. His blond hair flew out and brushed his shoulders when he shook his head, reminding him that he needed a hair cut. Not that he didn't have bigger things to worry about.

Five minutes. Draco drummed his long fingers against the leather armrest of the loveseat he sat on. Impatience was a trait he was still working on. He let out a deep breath, his bangs once again billowing around his head.

What did Lucius want from him anyway? He knew what it most likely was; after all, it was a bit late coming. His thoughts rolled through his mind like tumblers, but he had been over this before. He did not want to become part of an elite group of slaves. That's what Death Eaters were, in his mind: slaves. They did the Dark Lords bidding, mindless and unapologetic. Not that Draco was ever apologetic. He just felt that if he was going to be cruel, it would be on his own terms. Lucius was a hypocritical idiot. So was the Dark Lord; anyone could see that. '…You are better then mudbloods, better then all that surround you…' Then he went to bow to a man whose father had been a filthy muggle! Was Draco the only sane one left?

Also, his mother would be heartbroken. As the only person he cared about, Draco couldn't join the men who had forced Narcissa into the life she was into. Draco let himself smile a bit as he though of his mother. Sweet and gentle to him, she bristled strongly to anyone who was against her. He scowled. She was treated so horribly. No freedom, living a world of lies. He would not sacrifice her happiness for his own needs. Not when she had taken countless blows for him. An eye for an eye.

A heavy wind blew from the fire place, startling Draco back to reality. He quickly composed his face and stood gracefully. Lucius Malfoy, always one of entrances, stepped through the fireplace. Draco gave him a curt nod of the head. "Father."

Lucius did not waste time, but motioned for Draco to sit down. "Draco."

Draco sat, slowly, and nodded towards the couch. Lucius glanced at it disdainfully, and then sat, yet rather reluctantly. "I will not waste your time, or more importantly, mine. I think you know what I am here to discuss."

Draco stared at him, expressionless and wordless. Lucius scowled, "Don't play games with me boy, this is about your initiation as a Death Eater!"

Draco tapped his fingers against the armrest again, feeling weary. "Yes, Father," he drawled, "I have been thinking about this decision for a long time now."

Lucius looked almost relieved, "Good. I am glad you have been preparing. I was almost worried you would not be willing." He gave a cold, heartless laugh.

Draco stood up swiftly, his robes swirling around him. "That is the decision I have been contemplating."

Lucius stared at Draco coldly, "What, son, is there to consider." His voice cut through the air like a knife, cold and unforgiving.

Draco faced his father, a solemn look on his face. He was about to seal his fate. "I have decided not to join the Death Eaters." He held his chin high, full of defiance.

Lucius stood up, "This in not the time for petty teenage tantrums, Draco, you are now expected to take on the responsibility of being a Malfoy," he hisses, blocking Draco's pacing path, "You should be proud!"

Draco whirled around to face his father. "Proud? Proud of WHAT?" He shouted, letting go of his emotions, "Proud to serve a filthy half-blood who's only pretending to be pure? Proud to grovel to the Ministry every time he fails, and we have to pretend to be innocent once again? Proud to be fighting a losing battle? No, I am not proud of that. So, I will not join you. I will not work for Voldemort," he stressed the name; saying it was only something a handful on the light side did. Lucius had heard enough.

"Crucio," he hissed, and watched his son fall to the floor and whither with pain. Draco refused to cry out. After long minutes of suffering, Lucius lifted the curse. Draco lay on the floor, panting in pain. Lucius stared on, "You are a disgrace. Never set foot in front of me again until you want to make a man of yourself and join us. Don't think this is over." By the time Draco got to his feet, Lucius was gone.

Draco pulled himself back on to the love seat, wincing. To be honest, he was terrified. He had never outright defied the Dark Lord before. He had never used his real name either. He did not know that was going to become of him. Draco now had no protection. He was shunned from both the light and dark side. He heard laid down on the small cough, his legs dangling over, and did not hear the creak of a door opening.

Hermione Granger stumbled into the common room, her fist pressed against her mouth in shock. She stopped before him, her thick dark hair falling down her back and a book clutched to her chest. The front pronounced the title, '101 Ways to Earn Better Grades in School: Useful Study Habits, Teacher Appreciation and More'. Her mouth was slightly agape in shock. She dug the toe of her soft pick slipper into the ground nervously, "M-Malfoy?" She whispered hesitantly.

Draco shot up, coming to his full height, glowering down on her, "How much did you hear?" he demanded, eyes narrowed.

Hermione stood her ground, giving the taller boy a fierce look, a hard feat for any small girl in pink and red pajamas. "Don't you snap at me. I head enough. I just thought you might want some company," her look softened and her voice dropped, "That was really bad. I didn't realize your father was so horrible." Her stance oozed empathy.

Draco's eyes narrowed, "Listen close Granger, you don't have any idea what your talking about. You don't know anything about my father, you certainly don't know me!" he ended with a shout. He sat back down on the cough and rubbed his hands over his face. "Aren't you gone yet?" He mumbled to her grumpily.

Hermione's brain told her that she should forget him, he was just a dumb prick, but between the look on her face and what she had just overheard, she couldn't do it. Watching for a reaction, she sat down slowly on the couch and silently placed the book on a table next to her. His hair covered his face from view, and he did not acknowledge her.

She let Draco sit in silence for a while, recognizing that he was gathering his thoughts. After about three minutes, she risked a comment. "Draco," she whispered hoarsely, "Draco, how long have you know you didn't want to be a Death Eater?" His head rose slowly, and he looked over at her slowly. She refrained from flinching, knowing he was going to explode at her again.

Draco took a deep breath and stared at the girl in front of him. Part of him was annoyed that she couldn't mind her own business. Another part of him… a part that he chose to ignore… was in awe that she could care enough to comfort someone who had been so horrible to her. If things were the other way around, he would have surely used this interesting information as blackmail. But here she was, looking as empathetic as could be. "I've know since third year." He looked distant, and then shook his head. "Why?"

She stared at him. Why… she didn't really know why it was important. She just wanted to understand. "I'm just curious, I guess. What made you change your mind? If it's not to personal." She didn't want to push him.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Granger," When she continued to stare at him, her chocolate eyes trying desperately to read his face, he figured, why not? "I realized a long time ago that my relationship with my father was not that of a normal father/son relationship. Until I was about eight and a half, he treated me plainly. He didn't bother to get to know me, and he didn't get involved with my life or education. Everything was left to my mother, who had made most decisions that concerned me. One day, he began to ask me questions. He asked questions about the Dark Lord, muggles, mudbloods, and other things of that nature. Some questions, I didn't understand, others proved a response he didn't like. That was the first time he beat Mother in front of me." He trailed off for a second, looking away from Hermione's look of complete horror. He continued solemnly, "I asked my mother why he was so horrible, and she said that my father did not like the values she had been left to instill in me. She said that I must try hard to stay in line with Lucius, for both of our sakes. The next day, and for years on, I watched my father constantly, and he began to include me in his life. I learned from him my hate for anything non-magical. After only a few short months of observance, I concluded that my father was right, and I began respect and take after him. I became my father mime, without choices of my own; I proudly followed in his footsteps. And I soon learned, to trip from those footsteps, was a hard lesson taught. I was almost ten the first time my father beat me. I was just out of my first year here when he first used the Cruciatus curse. He was angry at me for letting you, a muggle-born, outrank me academically." He stared at her. He didn't look mad, or accusing, just stating the fact. Hermione looked away. "At first, I thought my father was simply trying to teach me a lesson, make sure I never made the same mistakes. He just wanted me to be the best." He shook his head, almost ruthful. "It took me a long time to realize I was wrong. Over Christmas, Father told me I was invited to attend a Death Eater's meeting, just to get a feel of it. I was out of my mind with excitement, though I didn't show it. Finally, a chance to prove myself. I was startled when I heard my mother yelling at my father, telling him that I shouldn't go. Why, I wondered, would she say that? I soon found out. At the meeting, I saw torture like I had never seen before, not to mention other things. I felt sick, and at first I thought I was weak for not thinking I could do the things Death Eaters did. It took me the rest of the year, here away from my father's influence to realize that I didn't want that life for myself. This was the first time I spoken my thoughts out loud to my father, though he had doubted me before." He glared at her suddenly, "Not that this changes anything, Granger."

Hermione was silent, staring at him openmouthed. 'Draco, you know what this means, don't you?" He gave her an odd look. She sighed, "You must have realized this. You have to come to our side. We can protect you! And your mother, too, she needs it…" He was glaring at her coldly.

Draco stood up swiftly, "Listen well Granger, I don't like to repeat myself." She looked surprised, "Just because I don't want to be a Death Eater does not mean I want to become some goody-goody! So you better not tell anyone about this." He grabbed the shell shocked girl up by her arm, pulling her against him painfully, "Or else," he hissed. Angry at this sudden mood swing, Hermione yanked herself away. Draco turned and walked to his room, slamming his door behind him. Hermione stared on. He had seemed so honest and open, only a moment ago. How was it that he has suddenly morphed back with just a few small words?...

There you go! Hope you liked it. On to the next chapter, eh?