Oh…it can't be morning yet. I feel so groggy, so heavy. Why couldn't I just go back to sleep?

I used to be able to get up so early – even hours before the others. This summer was an exception. I was having a hard time so I let myself sleep in, despite the consequences. I had been hoping though that I'd get back to my routine as soon as I arrived at school.

Even more important, I had been hoping that I'd wake up in a better mood.

And now I notice why I woke up. The lights are on. Zabini must have turned them on, and I'm just thankful that the drapes about the four-poster kept away most of the light.

Unless I'm already late for class!

In moments I'm up, clothed, and looking desperately for my clock. Bloody house elves can't pack.

The metallic disc is under some of my dress robes and my school supplies, and it tells me I have twenty-five minutes. Thank the gods. I can get ready at a more leisurely pace, though I won't have time for breakfast.

Shirt.

Pants.

Robe. Tie. Shoes.

Then I wash up quickly, and pack my bags full of my books, scrolls, quills, and my Quaru Cube. I have yet to set it, but I'm out the door, just a little late for…oh, I haven't picked up my time-table. I am definitely not on top of things. I'm such an idiot. Hopefully tomorrow…

When I rush into the Great Hall to get my time-table, I'm aware of how I wouldn't have wanted to eat anyway. The reality of the situation slams into me at the same speed as that of the approaching vastness of the hall. Where would I sit? What if Granger was right?

No, no use. No time; Professor McGonagall, who is passing out the time-tables for the Gryffindors, is already preparing to leave. Professor Snape is already gone – which gives me conflicting feelings. I don't see any other heads of houses, though, so I hurry up to her without compromising my composure. I must still endure her patronizing frown.

"Mr. Malfoy, you're running late," she advises me, while standing up from the head table.

I have to stifle my sarcastic remark. "Yes, Professor McGonagall. So could you please hurry?" Well, I can't stifle the sarcasm fully.

Instead of responding, she simply snaps the schedule out for me, her frown deepening. I am assuming that they are the list of classes I can take.

And despite her impatience, I need a moment. The list seems overwhelming. I had talked with Professor Snape during the previous year about what I wanted to do after I graduated, but in truth I had no plan. What I did say was made-up, and we both knew it; I needed to pretend I wasn't stream-lined for the Dark Lord's ranks.

So now I must choose courses, without regard to my future. My supposed future. What would I do when I leave Hogwarts? Would I even leave when I've graduated, or would I be forced to leave? Or…forced to leave in a more terminal way?

"Mr. Malfoy, I have a class to instruct, if you don't mind." Her frown was just as deep as ever, but I was grateful for the distraction; I didn't like thinking about my future. I would just pick the courses that really interested me. I point out my courses for her and jot down my new schedule on a blank time-table; Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Divination, Potions, and Transfiguration.

"Diviniation?" McGonagall asked, finally losing her frown.

"Professor Snape suggested it." Then, before she could interject, I continued: "He's run it by the Headmaster, so that it's okay, even though I have no O.W.L. level for it." In fact, that was the one thing we really did do during our meeting during the previous year, was talk about how I should try adding Diviniation to my schedule. He was rather insistent, as he had been during my third year as well, though I had refused. I wasn't sure why I was adding it this time.

"Well everything is in order," McGonagall concluded, and then without so much as a good-bye, she left.

And I realize that we're some of the last ones to leave.

What's worse, my first class of the day is Potions, and I can't shake the feeling that Snape is really, really upset with me. It's the one class I should be early to, and instead, I'm running there with about two minutes before the second bell rings.

When I enter the room, I look desperately for an empty seat. There's one by Potter but…no! No, nothing is going right today! Snape is sneering at me when I finally see another spot in the back. I begin to hurry towards it when Snape speaks.

"Mr. Malfoy, that seat is broken." And when I turn around, the bell rings as if on cue. "We are waiting, Mr. Malfoy. You'll have to forgive us for not rolling out carpets like I'm sure you're used to." His sneer deepens as I make my way over to the seat next to Potter, keeping my composure as best as I can. Though the backwardness of this situation must have had Potter all giddy on the inside, he didn't show it.

"Oh, and Malfoy? That'll be thirty points from your house. Next time be on time," and though he usually smirked when he took points, he gives me the most hateful glare. What is it I did? I can't figure out why he hated me so much, and so suddenly. Aren't we on the same side?

Professor Snape lifts his gaze to the whole class now and begins his lecture. "I only accepted Outstanding students for my class. However, as I know how some of you have performed from previous years, I must assume that the O.W.L.s standards have lowered – this will NOT be true for the N.E.W.T.s, nor will it be for me! I will NOT be lenient." And here he pauses for dramatic effect, and then he glares over at me again.

This time I can't help but get angry. I didn't DO anything! I've always been his best student, and this is how he repays me?

Snape is still giving his "no-nonsense" speech. He looks somewhat repulsive with his oily black hair snapping about with his emphatic head movements. Still, it was always a comfort to have this class with him. He's my godfather. He's supposed to have my back. Why is he being such an arse?

I should ask.

I feel myself relax with the thought. Why not ask? There must be a misunderstanding. Yes, he can't appear to favor me, but the whole hatred was a little overboard.

I have to make myself pay attention to him again, and to figure out what he'd been saying before – the format of the class. Mondays we would have lectures and throughout the week we would be expected to study up on the lectures and prepare essays concerning potions we would be making. "And on Fridays we will practice making the same potions that you will most likely be asked to produce for your N.E.W.T.s practical exam."

I take notes with as much alacrity as I can muster, keeping the thought in my mind: I'll simply talk with Snape after class, in private, and then I'll have him back on my side. I'm sure of it.

And the whole time I take notes, my only distraction is Potter's noisy scrawls. It gives me pause to consider more my revenge – I do know of several rooms in the dungeon that could be useful…but no. Now my plot seems somewhat foolish. I know I'll have to do something eventually, but all I wanted to do now was…

Wait, I wanted to please Professor Snape? Was I really that desperate?

I feel my face grimace before I realize it; I don't really want to answer that question, I suppose.

Class is ending and the students are filing out, but I hold back, putting my stuff away slowly. Perhaps it'd be wiser to wait until his office hours? No, I can't wait that long. This has to be resolved now.

With the class now empty, excepting Severus and I, I hesitate just a second more before I go up to his desk and ask, "Professor, can we talk?"

His eyes darted to me, immediately acerbic. "I'd assume that was one of our functions as human beings, Malfoy, but if you are asking for a moment, then no." And he's already standing up to leave!

"Sir! Please!" I hope that isn't desperation in my voice. "Just tell me what I did. I understand that most of the Slytherins must put up an appearance, but you're…" my godfather, I wanted to finish. You're the one I wished was my real father, especially when Father would scold me, belittle me, beat me, and starve me.

He's still gathering his stuff but he looks back at me, and for a moment I'm hopeful. "No!" And its hard to even hear the rest. "You are nothing. Look around you Malfoy – everyone is affected by this war. Everyone is hurt by it – many killed, every day. You –" and then I notice him stop, and he seems to choose his words carefully. "You make a public move like yours, and you're worse than nothing. Worse than impotent. You're dead."

For a second, it seems like he's trying to tell me something. What public move is he talking about? My father's? But he's already stalking out the room. And something about the way that he ends the conversation lets me know that there'll be no following conversation.

And I'm not even sure why, but I do feel like worse than nothing. Suddenly, this is what it means to be a Malfoy.

Damn Potter! Damn everyone! It all seems so…I can't help but hating everything! I want to… "FUCK!" And I scream. And I want to cry, and break things and shout some more. Everything is just so incomprehensible.

Though my vision is blurry, I notice that I'm clenching Snape's desk and before I can stop myself I heave at it, straining myself as I upturn it violently and send it crashing on its side.

Now I stop myself, smooth my robes, and leave the room with an outward appearance of calmness. I'm about ripping myself apart inside, but I'm able to think a few things. One, I don't know what I'm going to do. But two, I do know that the first thing I'll do is I'm going to kill Potter. And I will enjoy it.

I have a short break between Potions and Deviniation so I head off to one of the secret dungeon rooms I've found and begin setting up the Quaru Cube really quickly. Though really, that's not the hard part. In fact, none of the plan is difficult. Perhaps the hardest will be to get Potter to be appropriately suspicious enough to search my bag.

Oh! And now that I think of it, perhaps I can sensitize it to his signature. How old is Potter, anyway? I couldn't do it exactly but…

Shit! I'm out of time – I'll be late for Diviniation now. And I don't even know if Trelawney is the type to care or not. Perhaps I can finish my planning in her course?

"Move it!" "Out of my way." "Watch where I'm going." Its true; I can be an arse sometimes. But with little firsties, its so fun to get them scrambling out of the way or tripping them up. Besides, I'm in a hurry, and I have things to plan.

The stairs are long though, and as I get to the top, I instantly want to gag from the perfume. Why would Snape want me to take this class so bad? Tentatively, I push open the trap door that leads into the class, and once again I feel nauseous; instead of desks, chairs, and a chalkboard, Professor Trelawney has filled the room with frills, lace, and over-sized pillows, and all bright girly colors.

I can't help but wrinkle my nose in distaste.

It takes me a few more moments to realize that Professor Trelawney is waiting for me with exaggerated patience, not unlike how Snape would. However, she chose to ignore my grimace and snort as I made my way to the nearest open cushion, next to Daphne Greengrass.

Greengrass pushed her cushion away from me a bit, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"I have the feeling that many of you will truly come into your gifts this year," Trelawney exclaims, pausing a bit for effect. "A few of you will experience some life-changing events, and one of you will face your biggest enemy and most hidden secrets!" And as she says this, she gestures up and down and forward – oh she's terrible! Worse than Snape, much worse!

"The energies are cloudy today though – I can't quite figure out which one of you."

next – Trelawney's class – just a bit, and hint at his gift

then – lunch, and dinner, with estrangement, a "trio" confrontation, and

…Draco tries to invoke suspicion in Potter – prolly after he loses his cool and gets in a fight, he gets his wits back and clutches his bag to inspire suspicion