AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's been a really long time and I don't have any idea if anyone is remotely looking at my stuff anymore, but here is a new chapter and some more information on Draco and how he thinks and everything so just keep reading if you like it and send out reviews if you do. As I've said earlier I'm doing this for myself so updates are sporadic if I find out a lot of people really like this though I might try more to get stuff out sooner. Otherwise I'm just going to write whenever inspiration strikes as I have been doing up until now (note that years do go by between bouts of inspiration without comments from others) I'm quite content with the way this story is going though. Anyway just a summary of what Draco is up to leading up to this chapter. Draco's been watching Ginny for a few weeks wondering what it is about her that has got him reacting so oddly. On this day He is just thinking to himself about everything else that is going on in his life even though Ginny is still in there somewhere.

Chapter 3 Draco broods

Children rarely know anything of nuance. I thought of all the energy I had used and animosity I had earned in my first few years at Hogwarts when keeping up appearances meant to me be evil all the time. I never once thought that Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were completely within limits. I realize my behavior was too much and I could have had a wider base of acquaintances and friends now had I not burned so many bridges in my first years. Funny how it took father's imprisonment for me to realize I was too extreme. Not one person outside of Slytherin spoke to me after that. I realized the whole school hated me, save the Slytherins. The only people I had to victimize and earn the animosity of were the Gryffindors. With that house's hatred my position would have been clear. Hell even just with Potter and Weaseley's displeasure I would have been set.

I had genuinely asked for Potter's friendship in first year. I misguidedly thought that if I got it I could be free of the pretense; I thought somehow he would be able to protect my family from the evil in which we were ensnared.

What did I know then? I thought he was an angel sent from above to save us all with superhuman abilities. Of course, I had to ask it so snottily. I'm glad now that the way I asked was so horrible that he refused me, but at the time it had cut me very deeply, so much so that I resented him for finding me unworthy. I was still young enough to not realize that he was just a boy and not the answer to my prayers. I hated him at the time. I felt like he had known what I wanted from him and had decided that I was to low for him. So the first few years most of my taunts and actions were fueled by this genuine dislike.

I realized shortly after father was sent to Azkaban that none of my life was Potter's fault. The way he carried the death of Sirius Black around with him showed me that he was not a golden hero free from evil, as I had always thought him to be. People he loved died, often for him. People who neared him were always in danger. Voldemort held Potter's life as much as mine even more actually. Voldemort was and is obsessed with Potter that much I know from father. The Death Eaters' plans all involve getting to Potter in one way or another. Voldemort'd be much more successful if he forgot his vendetta every once in a while. Then again who wants his success?

Currently father is at Azkaban reliving every horrible murder he's ever committed due to the dementors, though they are fewer and less gruesome than one might think. Father has only killed a handful of people, and only because Voldemort was watching him each time. That was the luxury that the masks provided. No one really knew who was responsible for what during the raids. Father leaves people seemingly dead and obliviates them. His victims never remember what befell them only that the mark was upon their home and somehow they survived.

Soon Voldemort will claim my soul too. After all I've been preparing my whole life for it. As the proud son of Lucius Malfoy, right hand to Voldemort it's been known for years that I would be… for lack of better words, brought into the fold. My time is coming soon, on the eve of my seventeenth birthday I am to be marked.

Thoughts of this plague me all my waking hours. So far my act has been enough, but I have not been asked to actually do anything yet. I can only wonder how I will react when that time comes. I'm not bound as father is. He pledged his loyalty not fully knowing what it truly was for and it's price. In his youth, a charismatic Tom Riddle has blinded him. Lucius was young and full of idealism and naïveté of what a magically separated world would be. Not realizing for one moment Tom's separation of purebloods from muggles fully intended the slaughter of those deemed impure and unworthy to learn magic at Hogwarts. Not knowing what Tom truly intended, and not knowing that the magic used to bind him would punish all his blood to follow were he to betray Voldemort, my father pledged loyalty to his Lord Voldemort.

Father wants me to run away and refuse Voldemort's service. He's never said so straight out because to do so would be a betrayal, but it is what he means for us, mother and I, to do. I cannot leave him alone. I want for us all to be safe, but only Voldemort's death can assure that.

I sit alone in the east tower, watching students at the lake. As they enjoy the warmth of the spring. Although I long for autumn and the crisp air that carries with it the scent of dried leaves and coldness. The warmth makes me feel like I'm lost somewhere I don't belong. I'm not a person who can enjoy the sun on his face. I'm not that carefree. As I gaze at the paths to and from the lake to the greenhouses and the pitch. As dozens of students cross going off every which way to their destinations I decide maybe a walk might be nice.

Heading toward the pitch where the least amount of traffic seemed to be, my thoughts linger on whether or not to take the mark or to run. I do not let my mind run to the idea of fighting against Voldemort because I know that will only force my father to fight me and one or both of us would die. No matter what would happen. If my father did not kill me we'd both die by his binding spell, if he did kill me he would have nothing left to keep his promise for. The only way I could survive would be to kill him and I don't think I could live with that. So I cannot join the light even if they would welcome me.

It's late afternoon as I step outside of the castle. Though it will be light for a few more hours, the sky is beginning its slow change of color. Most of the students are beginning their returns to the castle and the lively paths slowly empty as more students return to the castle to prepare for supper in the great hall. After about forty minutes of meandering the paths all the students are back inside, so I go to the lake to look out at the water. A person in Gryffindor robes is already there. A year ago I would have tormented this person until he left the lake all to me, but this is where my earlier discussion of nuance comes in. If he doesn't see me I don't have to make a fuss and I can just leave now and go somewhere else. Even if he does see me there are only three people that I can't get away with not making a comment to: Potter, Granger and Weaseley. I still have not decided to leave the person alone or not, so I just keep walking toward the lake and watching the form.

Decidedly it's a girl's form. Sitting against a tree three times her width, with her knees huddled in her arms. Looking stonily out at the lake, deep in her thoughts. I can only just see her hair peaking out of a big sun hat it's only then that I realize I've been staring at Weaseley. She's no different than the day she hexed me last year but I'd never seen her face without a passionate emotion on it. Her eyes are strong and emotive. She has a very defined facial structure that I have never noticed because she is always smiling or yelling. Her nose is small and slightly points up. It is almost too delicate for her strong cheekbones. Long eyelashes hood her dark eyes, and her mouth is set with slightly small but full lips that somehow are still on a delicate scale. She is a lean and feminine girl. Somehow, while being built on the tall side, she still evokes a sense of soft and petite feminine beauty. It is disarming to see her this way. With no smile, and no anger on her face to obscure the delicate beauty of her features.

Most boys at Hogwarts dream of getting her to notice them, but it is always because she has the aura of the fiery, lighthearted princess of spunk and naïveté. Looking at her here there is nothing bright and cheery about her. She was strength, grace, and intelligence. Brilliance shines from her, though I've never seen it before. She is beautiful, but somehow I know that this version of Ginny Weaseley is not supposed to exist. A girl of fifteen with a big loving family that is devoted to all that is good in this world should not have that stony look on her faces. She should not be sitting alone at the lake during supper, she should not look as though the weight of the world is resting on her shoulders and she somehow is holding it up just fine. This is what I've been seeing in her this strength and darkness all in one. I've been seeing the moments when she isn't what she is supposed to be. She captivates me, and I don't really know what to think at all since she is not the girl that the world has seen her as for years. How is a girl with such a charmed life so capable of looking so serious and sad?