Draco strode past the first years lined up outside the Great Hall. After ascending a few staircases he came to a blank stretch of wall. When he reached it, Draco anxiously paced three times in front of it, willing the door to appear. It didn't. He pulled at his hair in frustration and tried again. And again. He pounded the wall. He screamed. He cursed. Finally, Draco gave up and sank to the floor, head resting on his knew. His body was shaken with silent sobs. Even when he just needed to get away, he couldn't. The whole world was against him. The walls stared cruelly down at him, seemingly mocking his pain. He was trapped in a vice of his own mind.

With a flick of his wand, Draco turned an ink pot in his bag into an apple. He tossed it from hand to hand, grateful for anything that could be a distraction. The first bit was crisp and icy, and Draco relished in the sour bite. It was a good metaphor for life, he thought. Things could be good but still hurt, and what you bit bit back. A long forgotten memory floated to the surface of his mind, triggered by the aroma.

Five or six year old Draco was sitting at the kitchen counter, his father's back facing him as he rummaged through the fruit bowl. He eventually turned around, grasping a plump Granny Smith in either hand.

Lucius leaned onto the counter and braced himself on his forearms. He held his prize aloft between the two.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked.

"Yes," Replied Draco, eager to please his father. "It's an apple."

"That's right. But this is a very special kind of apple. Do you know why?" Draco slowly shook his head.

"This apple has special powers." He whispered. "Whenever you're lonely or afraid, all you have to do is eat a green apple, and I'll be there watching over you, making sure that you're okay." Lucius reached over and took little Draco's chin in his hand. "Everything will turn out okay." An ominous tone clung to the air between them. Even at a young age, there was understanding beyond his years in Draco's eyes. His father tossed him an apple and walked past him, ruffling his hair.

"Eat your apple and get on to bed. Sleep well all right?" Draco nodded and took a bite.

"I love you Daddy." Lucius paused with one foot up the stairs and smiled sadly.

"I love you too, Draco."

Draco wondered if his father would ever need to eat a green apple himself, or if he was willing to show the weakness.

Draco stared numbly down at the core in his hands. All these years and he hadn't know why he got cravings for a green apple when he was down. Every memory he had of his father from when he was young had him acting cold and distant from his son, as if his life would be better off is Draco was never born. The man he had just seen acted nothing like the other memories he had, and Draco puzzled over what had changed. His father would just be added to the list of people him confused him beyond belief. He would be second. Right after Potter.

Harry sat in the Great Hall, absent mindedly clapping as new students were sorted. Next to him, rom was grumbling about how hungry he was. Hermione shot him a dirty look and refocused her gaze to where Dumbledore had begun giving his speech. Over at the Slytherin table, Draco was oddly absent. Usually, he would be wildly mocking Harry's latest endeavor, making a spectacle of himself in the process. Harry refocused his gaze to Dumbledore, his mind off on several different tangents. As the food finally appeared on the tables, Harry's scar began to burn with a furious intensity. His mind was filled with visions of death, and oddly enough, green apples