Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places, or some of the story line. I also don't own the words. Well, there might be words here and there that have been made up, but I don't know what they are at the moment. When I do I'll point them out to you.

Ice:

I sat in the prefect compartment, considering what to do with the Weaselette brat. Too many times she had attacked me, now. If it wasn't the bat bogey hex - well, she was good with her spells, and I've felt the impact of most of them. All the attack ones, anyway.

If it weren't for that stupid Potter, teaching all those idiots defensive spells last year, she probably wouldn't be quite as proficient as she was with her attacks. At least Voldemort has started attacking them back.

Even if the Weasel family weren't the perfect targets, their daughter would be. After his return in my fourth year, he asked me how I thought he could hit Potter hard. My first thought had been the Weaselette brat.

Thinking on it now, I smirked as I listened to the Head Boy and Girl prattle on about all the rules. Blah blah blah. Heard it all before.

"How so?" Voldemort had asked, leaning forward, his serpentine eyes fixed on mine. At fourteen years old, I was intimidated by his form. All I could think of was all the tales that I had heard on entering Hogwarts. Mother and Father had raised me a true Slytherin, and a future Death Eater. I had only ever heard the best of the Dark Lord. But even the sweetest tale of the man sitting before me then wasn't enough to help me forget the tales of the torture he committed. I may have not been a huge fan of muggles, or mudbloods, but when it came to getting my hands dirty, or killing people, a lot of the time I didn't see the point. Especially not torturing people before killing them, like he did.

Just look at that Bottom idiot's parents. Longbottom, or whatever. His parents were supposed to die, but didn't, because people were too busy torturing them. Idiots.

"Well, she's a huge fan of Potter." I said. I must admit that there were more reasons than just getting back at Potter that made me want to torture her. "We all know Potter has his saving people, nobility thing. Not to mention she's the sister of his best friend, and given that the Weasleys have all but adopted him, I'm sure he almost feels as if she's a sister."

"And how would torturing her affect him?"

"For one, he'd be too busy worrying about her to think much about fighting back at you through the year. And if you offer him her freedom, in exchange for his life, well, given that he almost sacrificed his life at the bottom of the lake for that french brat..."

Voldemort had leaned back, and thought on it. Before nodding.

"You're right. She's the perfect target." He had said. "And the preparations have already been laid." He had smiled at that, which had creeped me out all the more.

But now, that's behind me. I shifted impatiently on my seat, wishing that Pansy weren't leaning on me quite so hard. Pansy may be good in bed, but apart from that she's useless. There are times when I wish I could just dump her, but then I would have to teach another girl what I like, and it would all get too bothersome. If she would just stop clinging to me and acting like I was her boyfriend, it would be the perfect relationship.

When we got our times for patrolling, we left. Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise were lounging about in the compartment when I reached it.

"Hey, Draco, I gotta go, mate, would stay but Slughorn wants me." I scowled, but nodded as Blaise left. I may have been swatting bogey-bats away from my face at the time, but I had heard the new Professor telling Weaselette that her attacking me had been good spell work.

Thinking about Voldemort, made me wonder again, just what it was that he was doing to her. He had started work on it at the beginning of this Summer, he said, but given that she had attacked me only half an hour before, I couldn't really see that it had done much good. Or damage. Or harm. Or... well... Whatever.

"Hey, you two, go guard the door." Pansy said, flicking her wrist towards the compartment door. Crabbe and Goyle rolled their eyes and stayed put. Pansy scowled when they didn't do as she commanded, before turning a pouty look towards me. It would have been so much more affective if she hadn't looked like a pug, with her squashed up face. But because I knew what she wanted, I nodded, and Crabbe and Goyle left.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Pansy turned towards me, and smiled seductively. Or about as seductively as a pug can smile. She moved back, and dropped to her knees before me as I opened my legs. I may not have been in the best mood for this right now, but it was better than thinking about Weaselette for the whole train ride.

When she was done, she swallowed my load, and knocked twice on the compartment door, a signal that Crabbe and Goyle could come back in now.

The lunch trolley came past before the door had closed again, and I grabbed some sweets. I had every chocolate frog card there was, but the chocolate was delicious. I wasn't willing to try any of the every flavoured beans, but I grabbed a couple of sugar quills, a pumpkin pasty, and a licorice wand. Crabbe and Goyle weren't nearly so picky. As always they bought out the cart between them. When the trolley moved on, they started attacking their sweets, as I lay down on my seat, resting my head in Pansy's lap for the convenience.

Blaise came in about an hour later, looking rather moodier than usual. He sat down by my feet. Goyle had a bit of trouble getting the door shut, and I could have sworn I saw a foot appear and disappear by the luggage rack. Hmmm... Seemed like we had a spy.

I dealt with Potter after the others had left. The sound of his nose breaking beneath my heel was satisfying, to say the least.

Too bad he arrived at the feast, a little late, with his nose fixed. At least there was blood still all over his face.

Dumbledore's speech, blah blah blah. Finally we were free, and I went straight to my dormitory. No Malfoy shares a room with anyone, even Mother and Father didn't sleep in the same room. So, of course, coming to Hogwarts, Father had tipped a few coins in the right hands, and I was given my own room. Pansy came into my room with me, and I used her body before sending her to her own dormitory. She pouted, as she always did, but I ignored her. I didn't care about her. She was only there for when I needed release, and after tonight she would only enter my room when I wanted her to. Of course, her body and, earlier, mouth, did provide a good distraction from Weaselette.

But now, lying back in my king sized four poster bed, the cool silk smooth and soft against my skin, I couldn't help but wonder what it was exactly that Voldemort was doing to hurt her. I guess she looked a bit smaller than usual. Not that she was ever a large girl. And it was hard to tell under the giant robes of her brothers. But that could have easily been because she had shot up about a foot over the Summer.

No, I really shouldn't spend too much time thinking about it. Whatever it was, Voldemort's plan would no doubt work out in the end. And my worrying about it wouldn't do anything.

Still, I couldn't keep my thoughts from her as I fell asleep. She had seemed rather skinny, and maybe paler than usual. Her hair, usually vivid and hard to look at for long had been hanging lank around her shoulders, as if she hadn't bothered spelling it to look nice. Her freckles had stood stark against her skin, and her soft brown eyes had looked sunken. If anything, she looked... Well, apart from under-fed and suddenly taller, she looked tired.

A/N: Depending on my mood when I've finished reading a book that I'm going to finish when I've posted this up, I may write the next chapter. Otherwise, well, it probably won't be up over the weekend, or tomorrow. So, maybe Monday or Tuesday. Oh, and...

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