PROLOGUE: Draco
"Drake, would you consider…"
"No, Mum," I say firmly for probably the millionth time.
I know what it means if Mum suddenly fingers her wand from inside her pocket. About every year, just before I leave for Hogwarts, she says the same thing. This year, though, I finally put my foot down and said no.
"But it's growing so long," she wheedles, touching my hair fondly.
"You cut my hair every year," I complain.
"Because it makes you look much more handsome."
Yeah, right, I remark silently. Every year I had the same bowl-shaped cut on my head. Sure I hadn't complained then, but it's different right now. I'm attending my final year at Hogwarts in a few days, and I want to look exactly as how I want to.
But I wouldn't deny that Mum is right. My hair is growing. Longer than what I am comfortable with, actually. It's growing past my eyes now, and I have to push my hair up much more than necessary. I pretend I don't mind, just to get Mum off my back, but really, I do.
She knows the battle has been lost. She's been badgering me about my hair ever since I got back from school some two months ago, and never have I once put down my resolve.
"Well, if you're sure…" She looks at me tenderly, pats the back of my hair (which is growing past my ears), and walks out of my room.
"Wait, Mum."
She turns around. "Hmm?"
"We are going to play Quidditch today, me and Nott and Zabini. At Zabini's lawn," I quickly add.
She cocks her head to the side. "What's wrong with our lawn?"
"Well, nothing. It's just that… it would be nice if I had a change of scenery." I've stayed cooped up in this house all summer. More than I can bear.
"Alright. Just don't stay out too late." She turns back around and silently shuts the door behind her.
After she leaves, I get down on my knees and obtain the sack I need for the "game" under my mattress. I search for my sneakers as well, which I am sure are underneath my bed, too.
Oh, right. I'm of age! I could use magic now.
"Accio sneakers!"
They apparently aren't under my bed. They zoom towards me from the foot of my closet.
As I sit on the bed and tie my shoelaces, thinking about the Zabinis' lawn, I'm glad that I'd passed the Apparition test I'd had last year, despite the "heavy" workload…
I shudder as I think about what that workload was. I've sworn to myself never to think of that again.
"You know you don't want to do this, Draco… You won't kill me…"
I internally curse myself and focus again on the Quidditch game with Zabini.
I'm glad that I'd passed the Apparition test I'd had last year. Hold that thought inside, Slytherin Prince. The Zabinis' villa is a good half-hour away from our manor (using a broom), and it is terrible to think that I would be walking on foot to get there. The thought that I can pop in and out of places as I please was satisfying. It's the whole part of being magic.
I get up, run my hand through my hair (which I have been doing a lot for the past few days now), and focus my mind on Zabini's lawn.
Blaise Zabini, my mind chants. Blaise Zabini, Blaise Zabini…
The now-familiar squeezing sensation suddenly engulfs me, and I find myself suddenly standing at the backyard of the Zabini villa. I always feel very proud whenever I Apparate successfully, considering the fact that I'm still not comfortable with the whole squeezing thing.
Blaise is there, along with Crabbe and Nott. There isn't a broomstick in sight, but a wooden table with a few drinks and a stack of cards. Poker. We've suddenly grown addicted towards that mundane Muggle game.
I stride over to them, pushing my hair out of my forehead. The sweltering August sun is hot against my nape.
"You're late," Theodore Nott remarks, his voice impatient.
"Had to get away from Mother," I answer dully.
Zabini guffaws and imitates the voice of a child. "Aww, is wittle Drakie-pooh…"
I glare at him. He shuts up. I take my seat at the wooden table and fill up my glass with the clear liquid.
Crabbe begins to shuffle the cards. He's bad at school, I know, but he seems to have a weird connection towards card games. He's acted as our dealer for the many past games we've secretly been having.
The cards get distributed and he lays down five cards on the center.
I take a peek at my two cards. A queen of hearts and two diamonds. Quite good.
In our version of the game, we start with big bucks. Nott, which is on Crabbe's left, bets an instant hundred Galleons.
Zabini calls the bet. I raise it, though.
"Hundred and fifty," I say. I was confident with my cards.
Crabbe gets three cards in the center and puts them face-up. An ace of hearts, four of clubs, and two of hearts.
Definitely good. This seems to be my lucky day.
It is strange, because I haven't had this much luck in a long time, but after a few games (which leaves Zabini practically broke and the bottle of tequila drained), I find that I've gained almost double of what I had initially come with.
"Draco is on a roll," Zabini slurs, tipping the last glass of alcohol down his throat.
I laugh. "Maybe you need some of my luck."
"No fair being on Felix Felicis," Nott complains.
"I don't need any bloody antidote," I brag. "I'm just the best at poker there is!"
As soon as I say those words, a tiny pop sounds out of nowhere and out stumbles a wrinkled old house-elf dressed in an old dirty rag.
"Isn't that your house-elf, Draco?" someone asks me. I am too intoxicated to recognize the voice. Maybe it's Crabbe.
"Huh?" It couldn't be our elf. Mum never lets her out.
I squint and look closely at the dirty elf. It apparently is Wella, our replacement for Dobby many years ago.
"Young Master Malfoy," she squeaks in her shrill voice.
I narrow my eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Her eyes widen. She is taught to fear every Malfoy's glare.
"Wella has come because the Master and Mistress wish for Young Master's presence at the Manor." Her voice shakes.
"What for?"
Her head shaking, she says, "Wella has not been told."
Annoyed, I get up from the poker table. What could they want from me? "I'll be back later," I tell the guys.
"Sure, after your money's all gone," Nott snickers.
"You'd better not spend my money, you bastards."
I take Wella's hand and feel the squeezing sensation again. I know better than to Apparate by myself. With the state my mind is in right now, I wouldn't be surprised if I had gone a million miles from where I lived.
We arrive at the large oak front doors with the silver serpent door handles. But before we get inside, I pull Wella over to the side.
"You'd better not tell Mum or Dad about what you just saw, got that? Not the cards, not the alcohol, nothing," I hiss.
Wella squirms from my grip and squeaks in approval. I drop her rag and proceed inside, trying to clear my head from the influence of alcohol.
Whenever Dad calls me in for a private talk, the den is always the assembly point. I know this is one of those times, because why else would he bother to send the elf to come and get me?
I take a deep breath before I step onto the threshold of the infamous den. Dad sits at the head of the long table, as usual. Mum looks worried.
I presume my accustomed seat. Mum doesn't look at me, but Dad pierces me with eyes the same as mine. None of them say anything.
Mum not looking at me is the tipping point. I know this means trouble. Bad news.
I clear my throat. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"
[A/N: For all those who have waited, here is the latest from my month-old pending story. It's not actually a continuation – more like an introduction, really – but you will see later on that this prologue in Draco's POV will prove to be important in the progress of the entire story. (I added this section because I had envisioned an Epilogue in Hermione's POV, and I didn't want to make Draco feel left out.)
Also, for those who have liked my story enough to put it in their favorites' list, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! I had never expected anyone to read my entry considering the number of people who put their stories up on FanFiction every minute of every day, and the fact that this is actually my first fan fiction. Thank you guys so much, and I promise to update this story more often now that my laptop is back from the repair shop. Yipee!
Moreover, for those reading this very long and boring Author's Note (haha), please don't forget to leave your review (every review is most appreciated). I'm new to this sort of thing, and I would appreciate it if you would give me a few pointers on how I can improve myself and my writings. (And maybe even a few suggestions on how you guys think the story should go! -Nina]
*I'm sorry about the mistakes in the poker game! I'm not a poker player, and I wrote the first version of the story while under my friend's instructions. I didn't quite understand them, though. I've changed the game, though, after doing some research about poker. Sorry again, you guys! -Nina