My dearest readers, I know it has been a long time, but I'm sure you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. As I have previously said, I hate making you wait. A nine-month long wait is clearly inexcusable, but I would rather make you wait for a superb update than something I didn't fully put my heart into and gave just for the sake of updating.

Soon after the last update in October, I was promoted to full time at the newspaper I work at and I subsequently quit my part-time job at Arby's. That has been a downfall for my creativity. I have learned something new about myself. I did a majority of writing when I slaved away at the local fast food joint, and that was because I was bored out of my mind. Now, I have a full time job and I'm not as bored. I get paid to write now, but I rarely do writing for fun any more.

Furthermore, as I said in October, I had a lost a friend in a car accident. Incidentally, sixteen days after I updated the story, I lost a second friend, this time to a fire. Needless to say, the previous nine months have not been a picnic for me and I'm only recently recovering from the losses. With the loss of two friends so close to each other, I lost much of my motivation, which included writing.

This update does not necessarily mean I have 100 percent picked up the story again. This is however the first of about four updates that span the remainder of Book One. My goal is to update weekly over the next handful of weeks, but that however is not a guarantee.

I'm still working with GinnyGuerra as my beta. I'm also working with SlytherinPrincess as my Slytherin Advisor, but if anyone would be interested in becoming a second beta, please let me know. I would like to make this story as close to perfection as possible. If you notice typos, find grammar/spelling or canon mistakes, use an Americanism that you think I should change, or feel a character is acting odd, let me know. ALL opinions are welcome. If you think I should change something, provide me with enough evidence from the books and/or a logical explanation and I will take your idea very seriously.

"I, Draco" is a sequel to "In the Words of Ginevra Molly Potter" and, in a way, "Destiny Redefined," and I will be keeping many of the same pairings and plotlines that I have developed previously. In order to full understand how some of the minor events came to be, you would have to read my previous novels, although I'm fully confident you'll be able to figure out what's going on even if you haven't read them.

I subscribe to the Sensible Universe. This means that I adhere 100 percent to book-canon information, but does not mean I will put as much dedication into post-Deathly Hallows revelations. If I feel a piece of information revealed by JK Rowling works better in a different way, I will not feel guilty changing this. This also means that the storyline and plotlines I developed in the other novels will carry on to this novel despite post-Deathly Hallows revelations that say otherwise.

I also wanted to tell you this story follows the same timeline as my previous stories and takes place approximately 20 years following the defeat of Voldemort. To put it in context of my previous stories, Draco started writing this several days following the release of "In the Words of Ginevra Molly Potter" in the Wizarding world and is likely to be published before the 21st Anniversary of Voldemort's Defeat.

With that all said, I welcome you to the second chapter of "I, Draco."

Chapter Two

Shadows

According to historical records, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was founded over a millennia ago (the exact date is unknown), in a time where witches and wizards were persecuted for their ability to do magic. Oddly enough, a magical person would sometimes be born into a non-magical family. Reasons for this have always been a matter of speculation ranging from theft of natural magical abilities to the missus unable to resist the charm of a wizard's, ahem, little wizard to Wizarding researching shrugging their shoulders and admitting they have no clue. Nevertheless, these Muggleborn witches and wizards were rarely accepted in either social circle. They were shunned from their families and viewed as untrustworthy by their magical brethren.

As reasoning goes, it made sense for Wizarding kind to be nervous around Muggleborns because the people they came from were raising their pitchforks and rubbing their sticks together to start bonfires where the guest of honor would be feeling just a tad hot under the collar. How could these Muggleborns, who came from a race of prejudice people, be trusted? Furthermore, how could the minority of Muggleborns be protected in a school with the majority being Pure and Half Bloods? Simply put, it was easier and safer for everyone to exclude them, which is what happened for the first several years of the school. However, the ruling class of Wizards somehow thought it was a grand idea to allow these Muggleborns into the school. This could have been for a number of reasons, but the most popular theory among anti-Muggle wizards was that they wanted to keep a closer eye on their enemy.

We as wizards and witches, and those who have read Rowling's account, have often been told that first Headmaster Godric Gryffindor was a hero for Muggles and Muggleborns alike. He did, after all, allow Muggleborns to be taught in his school, resulting in fellow founder Salazar Slytherin's eventual departure from the educational facility. Yeah, Gryffindor allowed Muggleborns to be taught like Voldemort allowed his followers freedom. That historical glob of history is, of course, accurate, but it's a glossed-over, sugar-coated, dream version rather than the detailed, down-and-dirty truth.

When the ruling class of Wizards decided to allow Muggleborns into the school, three of the four Founders, Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff, agreed without putting up any kind of fight, but fourth founder, the notoriously difficult Slytherin, refused to agree to such blasphemy, calling the others and the governing bodies "sell-outs." In a now famously imitated moment of history, Gryffindor and Slytherin had an intense stand off, though neither one actually cast a spell.

Slytherin ultimately left the school, but not before Gryffindor – most likely pushed by Ravenclaw - offered a compromise, which eventually became school policy for centuries. There would be stricter criteria for the Muggleborns compared to the Pure and Half Bloods, and there would be a certain fee Muggleborns would have to pay each year to enter the school, a price witches and wizards born from magical families weren't required to pay. Both were obviously bigoted standards mostly because the majority of Muggleborns had very little anyhow. Being blacklisted from their own kind usually does that to a person.

Whether the other Founders actually thought the new standards would lure Slytherin back is unclear. And though Muggleborns were allowed to attend, they were rarely Sorted into any house other than Hufflepuff. Muggleborns were also historically not given the same quality education as Purebloods, even more so after the Founders died. It wasn't until after World War II, in 1949 when new laws pissed the hell out of my grandparents, that standards and policies were changed and Muggleborns found refuge in Houses outside Hufflepuff.

It begs the question whether Slytherin – and by extension, his house – was evil, as he is most often depicted in history lessons and school dramas. Sure, he had a grumpy reputation, may have picked a couple fights, and there was that teeny-tiny hiccup with the Chamber of Secrets, but evil?

Come now, you all throw the word around more than Lavender Brown threw herself at anything with a cock. (And yes, I would know.) Lord Voldemort was evil. Salazar Slytherin was evil. Lucius Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Rita Skeeter. Dolores Umbridge. Every member of the Weird Sisters. "Evil" is such a hard, subjective and horrifically clichéd term.

It's just far too difficult to define accurately because any definition you would declare bothers me. I've heard evil described as a horrible beast with a thirst for blood, which would mean your precious Lupin had evil lurking within him. I've heard it described as an arrogant man using any means necessary to accomplish a goal, which would, as I've said before, have made perfect old Dumbledore a candidate for evil. I've even heard evil described as attempting to kill a baby, which Lord Voldemort did (and succeeded a number of times, I'm told). That one had me stumped for awhile – at least until Rowling and Potter provided me with the answer in their books. If killing or attempting to kill a child is a one way ticket to Hell, then the Longbottom (I can hear Frank and Alice turning in their graves now) family deserves window seats on that train. Have no idea what I'm referring to? Neville Longbottom, remember? Being thrown from a window and off a pier because they thought he was a Squib.

(Prejudice is limited to Slytherins, my ass!)

You may be wondering why I'm defending Voldemort. Trust me, I'm not. What I'm doing is knocking some of you off your high and mighty pedestal. The lines between good and evil are blurred. All of us… every single one of us… has dealt with the shadowy side of our personalities at one time or another. Salazar was just a teensy bit more willing to accept his gray side than his fellow Founders. Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's the shadows I adore anyhow. I slip them on like a warm Quidditch robe right before a game. And isn't it the twilight – the moment between light and dark – where poets find the most inspiration? "HAIL Twilight, sovereign of one peaceful hour!" and all that jazz. (You would have never thought me as a lover of the arts, would you?)

Okay, okay, I admit, I can't speak for Salazar himself, but to answer the million-galleon question of the House of his namesake: Is Slytherin evil?

Perhaps my son, Scorpius Malfoy, said it best in an essay he recently penned for his History of Magic class. He wrote:

............................."The qualities of the Slytherin House - cunning, ambition and resourcefulness - are easily turned towards ill purposes, but are not inherently negative. These qualities attract an array of students who are susceptible to the use of dark magic and other crime. Possessing ambition as a core quality results in a disproportionate amount of competitive, sometimes self-important, students.

Furthermore, there are qualities in each of the Hogwarts House that can lead a student down a negative path as well. The daring of the Gryffindor House can easily lead to recklessness and arrogance. The intelligence of the Ravenclaw House can easily lead to egoism and close-mindness; and the loyalty of the Hufflepuff House can create blind and irresponsible devotion.

Statistically speaking, Slytherin has produced far more Dark Wizards than Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw combined. The Daily Prophet reported last year that three out of four prisoners currently in Azkaban were once Slytherin students. Of those Slytherin prisoners, nearly half are facing life sentences because of homicide charges.

Reputation and statistics have never been friends with the Slytherin House, but simply being sorted there does not mean a student is destined for Azkaban or a life of crime."............................

In other words, Slytherin is not, was not, and never has been evil.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"

As we all stepped off the train, it was the big oaf Hagrid that called to us. I strained my neck over the crowd of students and noticed the hulking figure motioning for us all to follow him. I growled inwardly at having to rely on such an idiot of a person on my first day of school.

"Dear Merlin," breathed Theo beside me. "Who let him out of his cage?"

"I hope he doesn't teach here," said Blaise.

I grinned. "My Father told me about him," I said, walking beside them with Crabbe and Goyle on our heels. "He's some kind of a servant who does Muggle jobs around the castle."

Blaise whistled impressively as we followed the crowd of First Years. "He looks... fun..." he muttered to us.

"Fun," repeated Theo, giving a wink. "Not the F-word I would have used."

As we laughed, we continued walking. By this time, the upperclassman had already split off from the rest of us and were boarding the horseless carriages. I caught a glimpse of the redheaded twins stepping up on one with a dark-skinned girl and a tall boy. Why the hell, I wondered, do we have to travel by foot when everyone else gets to ride?

A moment later, my answer was clear. I had only seen Hogwarts in photographs, but no picture can accurately represent the truly awe-inspiring view we had. Blocking our eyes when we stepped off the train are trees and Hogsmeade shops. As we cleared them, approaching the lake, the castle came into view. Of course, there was a loud appreciation from everyone around me, but I refused to show how impressed I was.

"I've seen better," I said a little loudly as the path itself started to become slightly narrower and steeper. "Durmstrang has far more towers than this shack."

Crabbe and Goyle snickered. Blaise and Theo chuckled. Theo, already beginning to pick up when I was being far too cool for my own good, gave me a playful shove and told me to shut my mouth.

"Hogwarts is the oldest school in Europe," came the distinct voice of Granger from behind us.

I turned around. She wasn't entirely correct. There's an Italian School in Turin, Augusta Taurinorum Schola Magica, that claims to have origins during the Roman Empire. The school was supposedly established during the founding of the city itself. As legend goes, a dragon was terrorizing the land. A peasant man forced one of his bulls to drink a goatskin full of wine until it was drunk, then incited it to fight the dragon. Though the battle was violent and bloody, the bull over came the dragon, but died shortly after. The school's motto became: "Dracone furens taurus superior semper est," which roughly translates as "The Furious Bull Always Comes Before the Dragon." Strangely, there are no written records on this legend until after the first written records of Hogwarts. Most scholars believe it is the school's attempt to undermine Hogwarts of any distinction (they even further speculate the dragon represents Hogwarts), following a long, rich rivalry between the schools.

But since there are no official records confirming this, Hogwarts wins the honor of oldest school.

I considered ridiculing Granger for her presumptuous view of history, but Toad-Lover Neville, who Granger had been talking to, stumbled over a rock in the path because he had been staring in awe at the mountainous towers jutting high into the sky.

Before I myself had a chance to demonize his psyche even more, a female voice was already on the prowl. "Watch where you're going, Longbottom," she cried, pushing the chubby bloke out of her path. "You're going to be in Hufflepuff, that's for sure."

I had every intention of agreeing with this newcomer, but I noticed how much less I despised her at first glance than I usually felt with neophytes. Her face was small and smooth, framed by her dark brown hair, which reached only to her chin. Her dark eyes caught mine as I peered at her. She smiled, her teeth flashing in perfectly sculpted rows.

"Hi," she said, walking past me, her shoulder barely brushing mine as she walked past.

A new sensation gripped my shoulder. The smallest bolts of lightning, tingling up and down my arm. I shuddered, then frowned, likening the perception to hate, just not nearly as strong. She would, years later, tell me I was feeling love at first sight.

"Who's to say it wasn't hate?" I questioned her.

"Love. Hate," she said, teasingly biting my lip. "The obsessive faces of the same emotion."

I turned my eleven-year-old body and righted myself correctly on the path, watching her walk away from me without the slightest glance back. The girl, whose name was a mystery I, for some reason, wanted to solve, was ignoring me. I've been told that's an underhanded tactic witches use to get attention they really want, and damn it, it works. Especially for me. I hate not being recognized, known, adored, fawned after – you get the idea.

At that moment however, she was slightly separated from the other First Years, and we rounded the final curve before the boats. Hogwarts, in all its glory, loomed before us, reflecting majestically off the lake. The surface of the water resembled a mirror and it looked as if two castles – one above and one below – were ready for us. And she, this mystery girl, was walking in my line of sight to this awed spectacle.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called while pointing to a large number of small, wooden watercrafts beside the shoreline.

His gruff words shook me from my pre-adolescent gaze. I glanced around, looking for signs of Theo or Blaise or the Muscle, but they were nowhere to be found. Swearing to myself, I scanned the mob of students, not daring to look as if I needed anyone other than myself. There was Potter, getting ready to take his place beside Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom. I gritted my teeth and stood still, trying my best to appear as if I had planned it.

At last, I noticed the large frames of Crabbe and Goyle already sitting in a boat. Unfortunately, they were already seated with Theo and Blaise. I considered breaking the four-person-per-boat rule, but there was barely enough room to fit a flobberworm, let alone me. Theo noticed me looking toward them and shrugged.

"Over here."

The voice. There it was again. I recognized it immediately. My eyes left Theo and settled on a boat to their left in the shallows. The girl again. She pointed at me, then placed her hand on the empty seat next to her, patting it delicately. This worked out better than I expected.

Sitting next to her, she said, "You looked lost."

"No," I replied. "Just nowhere else to sit."

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then – FORWARD!"

I sat a bit awkwardly next to this girl as the boats lurched ahead. My interaction with the opposite sex was admittedly in short supply, limited to Mother and the occasionally adult family friend. That, of course, would change quickly. I had that certain indefinable characteristic that attracted the witches. A certain je ne sais quoi. Always able to have a good time. Always able to show you a good time. It might be the bad boy image. Witches just want to mold the bad boys into a cookie cutter image of a model student. Change me? Laughable. I don't change. I thought we've been over this.

"I'm Pansy," she said, with a mixture of saccharine sweet and pre-pubescent arrogance.

"Draco."

"What house do you think you'll be in?" she asked.

"Slytherin," I replied quickly and without hesitation. It was only after I said it that I wondered for a brief moment if that's what she wanted to hear. I recovered though, vanishing that fleeting thought as I realized I didn't – or at least shouldn't – care what she wanted to hear.

"You sound so sure," she said.

"Of course I am," I replied. There you are, Draco. Missed you for a spell. Glad to have you back. "Where else would I be? Have you ever heard of a Malfoy yet who hasn't been in Slytherin?"

The boat magically pushed further from the shore. The Oaf might have said something as the leader of the mini-ships, but I wasn't paying any more attention to him. We glided over the water, the moon reflecting brightly off the meniscus of the water. She grinned coyly and placed the tops of her fingers in the lake, causing the tiniest of ripples to appear beside the boat.

"A Malfoy," she repeated, nodding. "My mum said to watch out for you."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Oh," she said, shrugging. "Nothing." She lifted her hand from the water and droplets of the liquid slowly cascaded from her fingertips. Flicking her damp fingers, she said undoubtedly as well, "I'll be in Slytherin too."

"Me, too," said the third person in the boat, turning her body to talk to us. "My dad said it's the best house of the four." She had a large, rather square frame. She was definitely the type of person one should think twice about disagreeing with.

"Why does he say that?" the fourth person said. She was far more noticeably smaller than the other girl and her brunette hair was the longest of any person my age. "My auntie said Slytherin is the worst house."

"Your auntie said," Pansy mocked in a similar voice as the girl.

The girl frowned, but pressed on. "Yeah," she said. "Gryffindor is supposed to be brave. Auntie Amelia said Slytherins are cowards who run away."

"You aunt doesn't know nothing," said the husky girl. "My dad said there's no honor in being brave. What's the use in being brave if you're dead? He said if you retreat when there's no chance of winning, you live to fight another day."

"And my mum said Ravenclaw would never survive in the real world," said Pansy. "She said there's only so much that books and learning can do, and then you have to rely on street smarts."

"Which all Slytherins have," agreed the husky girl. She growled at the petite girl. "I bet you'll be in Hufflepuff, won't you? That's where stupid little girls go."

The little girl crossed her arms and scowled at her oppressor. "So what if I am. I'd rather be loyal than... than evil!"

At that moment, we all, excluding the petite girl, laughed boisterously.

There it was. Didn't I tell you? I had been expecting that answer. She had finally come to the number one reason why students avoid being part of Slytherin. They were convinced they would automatically sprout devil horns if they even associated with the House. But to be honest, I – nor Pansy or the husky witch – would have even denied such things. In fact, after we had ourselves a ripe giggle, we said nothing more - sometimes silence is more telling - to sway her opinion otherwise.

Just a non-verbal affirmation. Just one more misconception passed on to yet another generation.

If you want the truth (which you do, otherwise you wouldn't still be reading), that girl's impression was the same as my own. No, the word evil in that context was rarely, if ever, uttered by me or my social circle. We just knew the reputation preceding Slytherin. And, by Merlin's Greasy Balls, we reveled in it. Fucking bathed in the rumors. Why would we ever try to say otherwise? The fear was automatically filled in for us, no questions asked, no effort on our part, just there, like the best damn Christmas present under the tree. And with that fear comes power. Sweet, succulent, palpable power.

Pansy and I were, as you already may know, Sorted into Slytherin, as well as the husky girl, who ended up being Millicent Bulstrode. The petite girl was Susan Bones, who coincidentally would end up in Hufflepuff as we predicted. (Of course, no one with a sense of humor was able to pass up the joke her name so graciously supplied us with. Knock knock. Who's there? Susan Bones. Susan bones who? Everyone. Immature, I know, but damned if it didn't get a laugh every time.) Years later at a class reunion, Bones would admit to me she had purposefully asked the Sorting Hat to place her there to spite the rest of us. She ended up proving our parents' prejudices wrong as she wound up being one of the leading members in the fight against Voldemort and the reconstruction of the Wizarding World following the Dark Lord's defeat. She now currently works just under Granger at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

As for the actual act of Sorting, there's nothing really to remember. The Hat was barely placed on my head before it announced where I was going. To this day, I haven't a clue what the old piece of fabric sounds like. I'm not entirely sure why it didn't bother exploring my mind a bit more. I certainly had the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, the brains of a Ravenclaw, and the strength of a Gryffindor. Perhaps my mind radiated with so much Slytherin perfection that my thoughts were detectable from a distance. Not that I would have even considered protesting its original choice. It's just the principle of the thing.

My son however had to wear the hat on for nearly three minutes before it made its final decision. Scorpius was originally going ask the Hat to place him in any House but Slytherin despite his perpetual proclamations beforehand of wanting to be nowhere else but. It was that same damn dark reputation that turned him away, he said, the same characteristics that attracted me to the House in the first place. He changed his mind somewhere between King's Cross and the Sorting Ceremony. It was the looks he got at the train station – the ones I interpreted as jealousy, he saw as disgust. It was the stories he heard of his old man from others on the train. He was Draco Malfoy's son. Destined for Slytherin. Destined for a life of darkness and - here's that word again - evil. Destined for damnation.

In short, he was ashamed. Ashamed. Of me. Never – and if I may emphasize – never have I felt shame in my life. Not even when I campaigned vehemently for Snake Eye's glorious return. Not even when I was branded like a House Elf with the Dark Mark. Not even when I raised my wand to kill Dumbledore. I might have realized, hell, even known, where my choices were leading me. But Goddammit, I wasn't ashamed.

When my son – home on his first Christmas break and developing a painfully ironic friendship with Potter's son (Scorpius and Albus. A Malfoy and a Potter. Friends. Best friends. I don't know what cosmic force decided to play that joke on me. Fucking hilarious.) – told me all this, a brand spankin' new and unrecognizable feeling was aroused. I had to ask Mrs. Malfoy exactly what I was experiencing. For the first time in my entire life, I was ashamed.

And this is the only time you will ever witness me admit something like that.

I never really told Scorpius about... then. You can call that shame if you want. I call it pride. I didn't want him to know, at least not the dirty little secrets. Of course, I rarely censored myself when talking about Potter or Dumbledore. I just didn't... broadcast the past to him.

"Daddy," he said to me one day when he was seven. He climbed the peaks of my knees and sat himself comfortably into my lap.

"Scorpius," I responded, placing The Daily Prophet on the table beside my chair.

His gray eyes – so trusting, far more than mine ever were. (I credit that to my wife. I credit a lot to Astoria, by the way.) - peered into mine. Damn, I thought, like looking in the bloody mirror. Same hair, same color eyes, same facial shape. I expected an innocent request or question, maybe a retelling of one of his favorite stories or a broom lesson, anything but what he actually wanted. He dropped his eyes away from my face and settled them upon my left forearm.

"What is this?" he asked, his words innocuous. He small fingers traced the outline of an almost-but-not-quite faded skull and snake.

I didn't answer him. I changed the subject and moved on. It wasn't that I was ashamed, no, not even close. You would think so, wouldn't you? I wasn't. It's just that my son didn't need to know things like that. Not at seven.

He knew. Not at that moment, but over the next four years. He understood what happened all the years ago. Astoria always answered his curious questions in far more, yet safe-for-children, details. Despite the stories, I think Scorpius always looked up to me for what I had to do. Not so though, on that long train ride to school, after he got an earful from a good number of students what they all thought Draco Malfoy was about. Broke his heart. Pissed him off.

He is different than me. Eons different. He didn't like the way Malfoys were perceived. You know, the Muggle-hating, Mudblood-bashing, House Elf-Abusing, Dark Lord-following, always-in-it-for-a-selfish goal Malfoy – which is the story he was told by his fellow train-riders. (Oh yes, let's ignore the fact that Draco Malfoy has done nothing in the last 21 years to reinforce those views. I haven't advocated once against Muggleborn rights, House-Elf Liberation, et cetera, et cetera. On the other hand, I haven't went out of my way to counteract those views.) Instead of brewing the anger within him like a potion of fury, Scorpius decided he was going to change what people expected of a Malfoy. So what, he reasoned, if he was in Slytherin. That didn't mean he was going to ascend to a throne of evil. He was out to prove a Malfoy in Slytherin was a good thing.

He avoided me between the first day of school and Christmas break. He sent letters, but I noticed they weren't nearly as detailed as they would have normally been. He had things to work out in his own world. Issues he had with my past. And I let him. I couldn't force him to accept anything. He finally sat down and spoke with me the first night he was back in December and told me everything people had been telling him about me, how he decided to be part of Slytherin and what the Sorting Hat had told him. (Just a warning, keep a look out for Scorpius. He will change the world.)

And finally, after four years of avoiding the question, I had an answer for him.

"I am not proud of my former allegiances, Scorpius," I said in the kitchen of the mansion. Astoria was preparing the coming home dinner, pretending she wasn't listening. Scorpius didn't say anything, so I continued.

"The choice I made was the best possible option to ensure my family's safety," I said. "It may not have been what Potter or Weasley would have done, but it was what I did. I wanted to live. I wanted Grandmum and Grandpa Malfoy to live. Who knows, maybe there was another answer..."

I rolled up my sleeve and revealed my arm. The skull-and-snake were still faded, but it was unmistakable.

"I hated it," I admitted to him. "I hated him for forcing me into servanthood. But this -" I pressed my palm against the mark. "This is what gave you freedom."

We were fine after that, him and I. He re-discovered his respect for me that day – finally understood that I did what I did to protect the ones I cared about the most.

"Did you see the way everyone looked at him?" I said through gritted teeth.

"Suck it up, buttercup," Theo replied, giving me his wry smile again.

His humor didn't help. As we followed all the Slytherins through the corridors and into the dungeons, I rambled on about Potter and his Sorting. It infuriated me the way everyone was hushed as the Hat was placed on his head. No one, no one said a word as it decided Potter's House. I mean, what the hell could it be saying to him? All the while, I begged silently for the Hat to place Potter anywhere else but Slytherin. Nevertheless, I may have been the only student in the castle still on the subject. Several Snakes were all discussing what might be on the Third Floor.

"I hate him," I muttered again to Theo. "Did you see the way that old hag was treating him? Like a prince."

"That old hag is McGowan , right?" asked Blaise, trying to change the subject since I had been talking about it since we left the Great Hall,

"Aye," answered Theo, as we passed into the Slytherin Common Room. "And I'm pretty sure there's a dick somewhere she can suck."

I would have laughed if I weren't fuming. I also would have noticed the grand architecture as well. The Common room was a long, low room with rough stone walls. There was an immense, elf-carved stone fireplace with flames already hot. A number of tapestries with assortments of skulls, snakes and mysterious figures hung in between each window. The windows, however, didn't show the sky, but the murky depths of the lake. Several lamps glowed green next to the even darker green carved armchairs – not too comfortable for long periods of time, I would later find out. The ceiling was also rather low. This part of the castle, without a doubt, was once used as the dungeons and torture chamber.

We were instructed where our dormitories were. I was roomed with, of course, Crabbe and Goyle, but also Blaise and Theo. I barely even noticed that all our belongings were already in our rooms, at the foot our beds, and everything was decorated in a light shade of green.

"You want some treacle tarts, Malfoy?" asked Crabbe, holding out a bag he must have dug from his trunk. Gotta hand it to Mama Crabbe. Even when her son is bursting at the seams, she won't lay off the sweets.

"I'm not hungry," I muttered, pacing back and forth in the room.

"Rooming with these two is going to make me lose my appetite as well," muttered Theo to Blaise.

He pointed to Crabbe and Goyle, who hadn't heard a word they said. Both were inhaling the treats, crumbs were already spread across their beds and on the floor. Over the years, the House Elves needed to work double-shifts just to get the grime and stench away from their living quarters. Not a pleasant sight, I assure you.

"I don't understand," I said for the thousandth time since it happened. "He didn't do anything to get so much attention. He just got lucky."

"It's the mystery, that's what it is," said Theo, yawning. "No-auuuuugh-body knows what happened. Personally, I suffer from a whole lot of 'don't-really-care.'" He flopped himself into his bed. "Wow. These feel amazing. And look it, Blaisey is already out."

I paused, glancing at Blaise. He hadn't even taken the time to take off his trainers or pull back the comforter. He was snoring like hell though, his ass nearly straight up in the air. I would have had a laugh had I not been so angry.

"So who was the little dame you were making eyes with?"

I grunted, taking my eyes away from Blaise and back to Theo. He had his hands behind his head and his eyes were closed. His feet were working hard at removing his trainers and socks.

"Who?" I asked, finally being relieved of some of the anger. I found my assigned bed and sat down on it, slowly taking of my shoes as well.

"That girl you shared the boat with," he said, his feet now resting comfortably on the bed, crossed one over the other. "Pansy, wasn't it? Dark hair."

"You answered your own question," I replied, settling back against the pillow. Theo was right, it was comfortable. "And I wasn't making eyes with her."

Theo chuckled. "Right you weren't," he said, yawning yet again. "Just like you weren't afraid of the Bloody Baron."

Damn Theo. I barely knew the guy and he was able to pick up on everything single thing that happened to me. Never had I met someone so perceptive. I decided at that moment to keep him at a safe distance. He would certainly be an asset to have around, but I couldn't let him know he was able to read me.

"I was not afraid of the Baron," I replied. "I have a weak stomach, that's all. Could barely eat my food with all that blood on him."

"Okay, okay, so you're not afraid of the Baron and you're not hot for Penny..."

"Pansy," I corrected.

"Ah, I knew it!" shouted Theo, jumping up from the bed. He shouted another howl, slightly waking Blaise (well, he at least asked where the troll hid his teddy bear before rolling over onto his side and falling back asleep. That joke was still running fresh every time we told it years later, too.)

"Piss off!" I exclaimed, also sitting up in bed. I reached down quickly and grabbed my trainer, throwing it across the room. It narrowly missed Theo's head. Instead, it made a (I swear to fucking Merlin) hollow sound as it hit Goyle's head.

Goyle grunted, but he didn't say anything at first. He rubbed his temple where the flying object had collided with him.

"Now I can't remember that song anymore," he said, frowning. We gave him curious looks, and he continued. "The one the Hat sanged. It was playing in my head like the radio plays. Now I can't hear it anymore. I liked that song."

"Really?" Theo asked. "Because I bet it sounds even better now."

It wasn't long before we were all asleep. I think I may have been the last one to fall under. I couldn't stop thinking about all the damn attention Potter was already getting. My last thought, as I slipped comfortably into the shadows, was one of malice.

"I fucking hate Potter."