A/N1: Hey all! Ok! I just started writing and this is what happened. This chapter is rated PG for mild cursing.
Enjoy and if you'd be so kind as to review, I really would like to know what you think. You review, and I write, seems fair!
Hopeful? What me?
*Flashback*
The silver of the moonlight which drifted down inbetween the branches of nearby trees only served to make his hair a lighter shade. It now shown a whitish-blonde under the deepening sky of night.
No one knew he was out here. No one was supposed to know, it was just the way it had always been, the way it would always be.
Because he wanted it that way.
And he would like to see just who would disobey him in this house. True, he couldn't order his parents, well, not his father anyway. That wouldn't go over too well.
But here, he wasn't anyone important. He didn't give orders out here, he didn't take them either.
He just was.
He would stare up at the dark sky, watching as the stars popped out, one by one, like holes punched in a light shade.
No one was supposed to *be* there watching him.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*End*
He leaned against the upper most turret in the upper most tower of his school. It was far past when he was supposed to be asleep in bed.
He didn't take orders here though; he only did that when he was at home. This was not his home, though sometimes he felt more comfortable here then he did back at his parent's house.
He'd been here for just over 5 years. It *didn't* seem that long, so late at night, it seemed *much* longer. So much had happened to him in those few years, and he wondered how he could have changed so much in such a short time.
Did anyone notice the difference in him? Or was he the only one who would recognize it?
When he'd gotten to King's Cross that year, and stood looking at the glistening shape of the train, he'd felt something...switch inside the pit of his stomach. Something was just slightly different now then it had been the previous years.
His parents weren't there, they couldn't be bothered to spare the time to come and see him off. But his two...friends were there. They lumbered up to him, idiotic grins plastered onto their thick faces.
"Hullo, Draco!" Goyle bellowed, his voice deeper then the year before, he waved as he trotted up to the all around smaller boy.
Draco wasn't ogerish as were Crabbe and Goyle. He was elvin, slender though fairly muscled through out. His cheekbones set high in his pale face, and he was, truth be told, handsome. Certainly more so then last year, though not in the classically handsome way; he was just off. There was something slightly discomforting about the way he looked, whether it was simply the grey-coldness locked away in his eyes, locked just behind something...a wall.
Or whether it was simple how he carried himself, for still a young boy, he looked as though he owned the world. He had certainly grown into himself.
Draco turned, pulling his muted-almost openly emotionless-gaze away from the steaming scarlet train, to glance at the two large boys now standing by his side.
"Hullo." He said immediately putting on a smirk, the look in his grey eyes changing from the walled emotion, to simple cruelty.
"You look weird." Crabbe said, something like thoughtful concern crossing his face. Well, something like it anyway.
"And you look as daft as ever, Vincent." Draco spat, his anger raging for a brief moment, and unknown reason. He calmed it down, glancing Crabbe over with distaste before turning back to face the Hogwarts Express.
He straightened his dark robes though they didn't need it.
A melodic laughter rose from far to his left and he turned to see the perfect sight. Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, reuniting after the long summer break.
He considered for a long moment going over to harass them, welcome them back to another hellish year, tease them about what dear old Harry would get himself into this time round the garden. But again, for some unknown reason...he decided against it.
The train seemed so fascinating just now, and he stared at it, studying its line and shape, everything about it, as though he may never see it this closely again.
As though it might enlighten him.
"Are you o-" Goyle began before Draco cut him off sharply.
"I'm fine. What say we go find ourselves a compartment? I've already gotten my trunk inside." Draco said, and without looking at either of his cronies for confirmation he began to move away, toward the small steps that led inside the train.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
It took them little time to find an empty compartment near the front of the train, Draco settled himself by the window and stared absently out of it while Crabbe and Goyle spoke amongst themselves, comparing summers.
"-co? Draco?" The trailing end of Goyle's sentence brought Draco out of his reverie of watching the late coming students hurrying through the barrier just beneath the Platform 9/3 sign, and those getting on the train. His gaze lingered on a young boy; he looked like a first year, who was saying what appeared to be a tearful good bye to his family.
He hugged his mother, weeping-any noise muted out by the shut window of their compartment. And then he turned to his father; Draco watched this interaction with particular interest.
The boy's father stood straight, shoulders back, some unreadable expression locked onto his face, his brows, his stature. Everything save for his eyes, which, even from his distance, Draco could see glinting with what must have been a tear. Of happiness? Of sadness? He couldn't say. He never had been able to tell the difference.
The man bent down and brought his son into a long embrace, before letting him go again, and straightening up to his full, and somewhat worrying height.
The boy left, and Draco dragged his eyes away from the parents, now holding each other's hand in the absence of their child's.
"Draco?"
He turned and faced Crabbe and Goyle. Though not the smartest students, they seemed to be able to tell that something was on his mind and Draco quickly, and expertly gave them a plausible explanation. He scoffed, "Just watching some first year, cry baby saying 'bye to Mummy and Daddy.... What were you asking?"
"How was your summer?"
"Fine, it was fine. We went to France, to 'visit the old Malfoy family landmarks'." Draco said in an exquisite imitation of his father, "We have a lot of them there, you know. Being descended from Frenchman and-" There was a knock at the compartment door, interrupting Draco's rant mid-way through. "Oh bugger, don't tell me we're going to have to share with some first year-"
"Mind if I join you?" A calm voice asked as the door opened slowly. It was not some first year, or indeed a student at all.
Draco recognized him as one of their previous teachers. "I thought they got rid of your type two years ago?" Draco drawled.
"They did. But I didn't take to it, it seems. I've come back now." Remus J. Lupin stood in the doorway, and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. He had the same battered suitcase as two years ago tucked under one arm, though a new one joined it now beneath his other. He wore the same, or very similar, worn out and patched robes. And looked only slightly older then he had two years ago.
"Wait until my father hears about this. You'll be out on your own again so fast it'll make your head spin."
"I wouldn't count that out-but I wouldn't hold my breath for it either." Lupin answered softly, as he lifted his cases above him, tucking them into the overhead loft. He took a seat beside Crabbe and Goyle, who stared open mouthed at their ex-teacher.
"Slide down a bit? Ahh, thank you." Lupin flashed them a quick smile as he sat down with a weary sigh.
Draco stared at him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. "Why must *you* sit in *our* compartment?"
Lupin looked up at this, as he settled himself down into the wall-bench. "Surely you're not afraid of sharing your cabin with a werewolf? I promise, I won't bite." He seemed to Draco to be enjoying this a bit much.
Draco crossed his arms sourly, turning abruptly away, once again finding himself staring outside the window, though now the platform was empty, and with dawning realization that they'd be moving any minute, he was proved correct, as the train lurched into motion, bound for another year at Hogwarts.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Draco thought that the ride would have been exceedingly more enjoyable had he not been forced to sit mere feet away from a known werewolf. Full moon or no, daytime or not, it made him down right uncomfortable.
He shifted in his seat, eyeing Lupin suspiciously, sidelong.
Remus Lupin scrunched up his nose as he looked down through his reading glasses, turning the page of his book, he caught the look, which Draco had given him.
He was alone with the boy just now, his two larger friends having just run off after the witch with the food cart.
Remus hadn't bought anything; he said he wasn't hungry though to be more truthful, he didn't have the money to go buying the sorts of sweets she sold. He needed to spend what Knuts and sickles he had on more nourishing substances then Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and Chocolate Frogs.
"Why don't you like me? I've never been mean to you-I've never really even spoken to you." Lupin said, not looking up from his book (A Thousand Dawns: The Hidden Life of Quasies*).
Draco scoffed and then fell silent; Lupin noted the momentary smirk slide off his face and wondered if it was because of something he'd said.
In truth, Draco was wondering why exactly he didn't like this...Professor. Why aside from the fact that his father didn't. He was a werewolf, yes, but he posed no threat to Draco and never really had. Not directly in any case, when he'd transformed out on the grounds of Hogwarts, technically he had posed a threat to anyone unlucky enough to meet up with him; but that was not pointed at Draco.
It was not done solely to get at the young Malfoy.
"You...are a freak." Draco settled for this, not the most imaginative of insults, but surely one of the more truthful ones in his opinion.
To his surprise Lupin smiled, and laughed very silently, as though he alone had been told a joke, and didn't want to seem too strange by laughing more loudly.
"I suppose some would agree with that. And I've certainly been called far worse..." Lupin agreed solemnly. He reached down to the small piece of red ribbon, which hung from within the pages of his book, and laid it down to mark the current one on which he was.
He slid his glasses off with a gentle motion and placed them somewhere in the recesses of his robe.
Draco looked at him wearily, mouth slightly slack. "What are you doing?"
"Well I thought you and I were talking, and I know I always find it rude when the person to whom I am speaking, is also reading." He said politely, testing the waters to see just how close to civil he could be with a Malfoy.
"Well...what if I don't want to talk to you?" Draco drawled, a little too uninterested for it not to be a farce.
"Then I suppose I pick my book up again and continue with the story. It's a horror book. Well something close to it, it...once belonged to a good friend of mine." Lupin said, a slightly glazed over look in his eyes as he ran his fingers across the gold lettering on the book.
"Huh." Draco said, mildly curious in what the werewolf had to say, "Who gave it to you?"
"That's not important. A friend from school, he's-I don't know him anymore." Lupin said, his voice taking on an unnatural note to it. He was, of course holding something back. He did in fact still know Sirius, he'd just gotten word from him that Dumbledore had requested Lupin's return to Hogwarts for reasons of the most unpleasant kind. Those of the Dark Lord.
There had been a more personal note attached to the official request, which Sirius had sent. And that piece now sat, torn from the rest, which had been burned...just in case, inside the very book Lupin held safely on his lap.
"Probably Potter's father." Draco mumbled, looking once again uninterested, he stared out the window.
"No. It wasn't Harry's father." Lupin said abruptly, startling Draco.
"Hit a sore spot, have I? Don't like to talk about him, do you? What was his name again..."
"James Potter. He was a very good man, Draco, twice what most of us are."
"Twice what you are?"
"Yes."
"Now that I can believe."
"You speak about a lot that you don't really understand." Lupin said quietly.
"Do you know who I am? I am *Draco Malfoy*. You shouldn't talk to me in such a...disrespectful way!" Draco spat.
"I thank you for the lesson, but I give my respect to those who earn it. And forgive me for saying so, but the name of Malfoy demands fear, no longer respect."
"Fear and respect are one in the same." Draco said casually. He was tiring of this conversation but saw no direct way to get out of it. He would just have to ride it out.
"You think so? Do you respect me, Draco Malfoy?" Lupin asked, leaning forward.
"No." Draco said with annoyed surprise at such a stupid question.
"Do you fear me?"
"...I give my fear to those who earn it."
Crabbe and Goyle re-entered the cabin just then, and Lupin leaned back in his seat to let them pass. His conversation with the young Malfoy halted abruptly.
He watched him though, out of the corner of his eyes, even as he opened his book once again. He watched him, and found more and more interest in it. There were so many levels to this boy, not just the coldness that lay on top. He wasn't just a Malfoy, it seemed as though to Lupin, that he played the part of one simply because he knew no other way in which to act.
* Quassie: it's from an original short I'm writing. A sort of...evil creature that drags people into bogs. Don't ask.
A/N2: Ok, this is the end of chapter one, the other chapters get A LOT better, this one I was still trying to get the feel for the story. I have already written about...4 more chapters, but I'm not sure if I should post them. Should I post them? I might anyhow...but please tell me what you think of this so far, and if you have any suggestions for what you'd like to have happen, just let me know. I have no real plot with this, not...entirely anyway, I'm just sorta allowing it to write its self. Don't forget to review...!!!!.
Enjoy and if you'd be so kind as to review, I really would like to know what you think. You review, and I write, seems fair!
Hopeful? What me?
*Flashback*
The silver of the moonlight which drifted down inbetween the branches of nearby trees only served to make his hair a lighter shade. It now shown a whitish-blonde under the deepening sky of night.
No one knew he was out here. No one was supposed to know, it was just the way it had always been, the way it would always be.
Because he wanted it that way.
And he would like to see just who would disobey him in this house. True, he couldn't order his parents, well, not his father anyway. That wouldn't go over too well.
But here, he wasn't anyone important. He didn't give orders out here, he didn't take them either.
He just was.
He would stare up at the dark sky, watching as the stars popped out, one by one, like holes punched in a light shade.
No one was supposed to *be* there watching him.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^*End*
He leaned against the upper most turret in the upper most tower of his school. It was far past when he was supposed to be asleep in bed.
He didn't take orders here though; he only did that when he was at home. This was not his home, though sometimes he felt more comfortable here then he did back at his parent's house.
He'd been here for just over 5 years. It *didn't* seem that long, so late at night, it seemed *much* longer. So much had happened to him in those few years, and he wondered how he could have changed so much in such a short time.
Did anyone notice the difference in him? Or was he the only one who would recognize it?
When he'd gotten to King's Cross that year, and stood looking at the glistening shape of the train, he'd felt something...switch inside the pit of his stomach. Something was just slightly different now then it had been the previous years.
His parents weren't there, they couldn't be bothered to spare the time to come and see him off. But his two...friends were there. They lumbered up to him, idiotic grins plastered onto their thick faces.
"Hullo, Draco!" Goyle bellowed, his voice deeper then the year before, he waved as he trotted up to the all around smaller boy.
Draco wasn't ogerish as were Crabbe and Goyle. He was elvin, slender though fairly muscled through out. His cheekbones set high in his pale face, and he was, truth be told, handsome. Certainly more so then last year, though not in the classically handsome way; he was just off. There was something slightly discomforting about the way he looked, whether it was simply the grey-coldness locked away in his eyes, locked just behind something...a wall.
Or whether it was simple how he carried himself, for still a young boy, he looked as though he owned the world. He had certainly grown into himself.
Draco turned, pulling his muted-almost openly emotionless-gaze away from the steaming scarlet train, to glance at the two large boys now standing by his side.
"Hullo." He said immediately putting on a smirk, the look in his grey eyes changing from the walled emotion, to simple cruelty.
"You look weird." Crabbe said, something like thoughtful concern crossing his face. Well, something like it anyway.
"And you look as daft as ever, Vincent." Draco spat, his anger raging for a brief moment, and unknown reason. He calmed it down, glancing Crabbe over with distaste before turning back to face the Hogwarts Express.
He straightened his dark robes though they didn't need it.
A melodic laughter rose from far to his left and he turned to see the perfect sight. Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, reuniting after the long summer break.
He considered for a long moment going over to harass them, welcome them back to another hellish year, tease them about what dear old Harry would get himself into this time round the garden. But again, for some unknown reason...he decided against it.
The train seemed so fascinating just now, and he stared at it, studying its line and shape, everything about it, as though he may never see it this closely again.
As though it might enlighten him.
"Are you o-" Goyle began before Draco cut him off sharply.
"I'm fine. What say we go find ourselves a compartment? I've already gotten my trunk inside." Draco said, and without looking at either of his cronies for confirmation he began to move away, toward the small steps that led inside the train.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
It took them little time to find an empty compartment near the front of the train, Draco settled himself by the window and stared absently out of it while Crabbe and Goyle spoke amongst themselves, comparing summers.
"-co? Draco?" The trailing end of Goyle's sentence brought Draco out of his reverie of watching the late coming students hurrying through the barrier just beneath the Platform 9/3 sign, and those getting on the train. His gaze lingered on a young boy; he looked like a first year, who was saying what appeared to be a tearful good bye to his family.
He hugged his mother, weeping-any noise muted out by the shut window of their compartment. And then he turned to his father; Draco watched this interaction with particular interest.
The boy's father stood straight, shoulders back, some unreadable expression locked onto his face, his brows, his stature. Everything save for his eyes, which, even from his distance, Draco could see glinting with what must have been a tear. Of happiness? Of sadness? He couldn't say. He never had been able to tell the difference.
The man bent down and brought his son into a long embrace, before letting him go again, and straightening up to his full, and somewhat worrying height.
The boy left, and Draco dragged his eyes away from the parents, now holding each other's hand in the absence of their child's.
"Draco?"
He turned and faced Crabbe and Goyle. Though not the smartest students, they seemed to be able to tell that something was on his mind and Draco quickly, and expertly gave them a plausible explanation. He scoffed, "Just watching some first year, cry baby saying 'bye to Mummy and Daddy.... What were you asking?"
"How was your summer?"
"Fine, it was fine. We went to France, to 'visit the old Malfoy family landmarks'." Draco said in an exquisite imitation of his father, "We have a lot of them there, you know. Being descended from Frenchman and-" There was a knock at the compartment door, interrupting Draco's rant mid-way through. "Oh bugger, don't tell me we're going to have to share with some first year-"
"Mind if I join you?" A calm voice asked as the door opened slowly. It was not some first year, or indeed a student at all.
Draco recognized him as one of their previous teachers. "I thought they got rid of your type two years ago?" Draco drawled.
"They did. But I didn't take to it, it seems. I've come back now." Remus J. Lupin stood in the doorway, and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. He had the same battered suitcase as two years ago tucked under one arm, though a new one joined it now beneath his other. He wore the same, or very similar, worn out and patched robes. And looked only slightly older then he had two years ago.
"Wait until my father hears about this. You'll be out on your own again so fast it'll make your head spin."
"I wouldn't count that out-but I wouldn't hold my breath for it either." Lupin answered softly, as he lifted his cases above him, tucking them into the overhead loft. He took a seat beside Crabbe and Goyle, who stared open mouthed at their ex-teacher.
"Slide down a bit? Ahh, thank you." Lupin flashed them a quick smile as he sat down with a weary sigh.
Draco stared at him with crossed arms and narrowed eyes. "Why must *you* sit in *our* compartment?"
Lupin looked up at this, as he settled himself down into the wall-bench. "Surely you're not afraid of sharing your cabin with a werewolf? I promise, I won't bite." He seemed to Draco to be enjoying this a bit much.
Draco crossed his arms sourly, turning abruptly away, once again finding himself staring outside the window, though now the platform was empty, and with dawning realization that they'd be moving any minute, he was proved correct, as the train lurched into motion, bound for another year at Hogwarts.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Draco thought that the ride would have been exceedingly more enjoyable had he not been forced to sit mere feet away from a known werewolf. Full moon or no, daytime or not, it made him down right uncomfortable.
He shifted in his seat, eyeing Lupin suspiciously, sidelong.
Remus Lupin scrunched up his nose as he looked down through his reading glasses, turning the page of his book, he caught the look, which Draco had given him.
He was alone with the boy just now, his two larger friends having just run off after the witch with the food cart.
Remus hadn't bought anything; he said he wasn't hungry though to be more truthful, he didn't have the money to go buying the sorts of sweets she sold. He needed to spend what Knuts and sickles he had on more nourishing substances then Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and Chocolate Frogs.
"Why don't you like me? I've never been mean to you-I've never really even spoken to you." Lupin said, not looking up from his book (A Thousand Dawns: The Hidden Life of Quasies*).
Draco scoffed and then fell silent; Lupin noted the momentary smirk slide off his face and wondered if it was because of something he'd said.
In truth, Draco was wondering why exactly he didn't like this...Professor. Why aside from the fact that his father didn't. He was a werewolf, yes, but he posed no threat to Draco and never really had. Not directly in any case, when he'd transformed out on the grounds of Hogwarts, technically he had posed a threat to anyone unlucky enough to meet up with him; but that was not pointed at Draco.
It was not done solely to get at the young Malfoy.
"You...are a freak." Draco settled for this, not the most imaginative of insults, but surely one of the more truthful ones in his opinion.
To his surprise Lupin smiled, and laughed very silently, as though he alone had been told a joke, and didn't want to seem too strange by laughing more loudly.
"I suppose some would agree with that. And I've certainly been called far worse..." Lupin agreed solemnly. He reached down to the small piece of red ribbon, which hung from within the pages of his book, and laid it down to mark the current one on which he was.
He slid his glasses off with a gentle motion and placed them somewhere in the recesses of his robe.
Draco looked at him wearily, mouth slightly slack. "What are you doing?"
"Well I thought you and I were talking, and I know I always find it rude when the person to whom I am speaking, is also reading." He said politely, testing the waters to see just how close to civil he could be with a Malfoy.
"Well...what if I don't want to talk to you?" Draco drawled, a little too uninterested for it not to be a farce.
"Then I suppose I pick my book up again and continue with the story. It's a horror book. Well something close to it, it...once belonged to a good friend of mine." Lupin said, a slightly glazed over look in his eyes as he ran his fingers across the gold lettering on the book.
"Huh." Draco said, mildly curious in what the werewolf had to say, "Who gave it to you?"
"That's not important. A friend from school, he's-I don't know him anymore." Lupin said, his voice taking on an unnatural note to it. He was, of course holding something back. He did in fact still know Sirius, he'd just gotten word from him that Dumbledore had requested Lupin's return to Hogwarts for reasons of the most unpleasant kind. Those of the Dark Lord.
There had been a more personal note attached to the official request, which Sirius had sent. And that piece now sat, torn from the rest, which had been burned...just in case, inside the very book Lupin held safely on his lap.
"Probably Potter's father." Draco mumbled, looking once again uninterested, he stared out the window.
"No. It wasn't Harry's father." Lupin said abruptly, startling Draco.
"Hit a sore spot, have I? Don't like to talk about him, do you? What was his name again..."
"James Potter. He was a very good man, Draco, twice what most of us are."
"Twice what you are?"
"Yes."
"Now that I can believe."
"You speak about a lot that you don't really understand." Lupin said quietly.
"Do you know who I am? I am *Draco Malfoy*. You shouldn't talk to me in such a...disrespectful way!" Draco spat.
"I thank you for the lesson, but I give my respect to those who earn it. And forgive me for saying so, but the name of Malfoy demands fear, no longer respect."
"Fear and respect are one in the same." Draco said casually. He was tiring of this conversation but saw no direct way to get out of it. He would just have to ride it out.
"You think so? Do you respect me, Draco Malfoy?" Lupin asked, leaning forward.
"No." Draco said with annoyed surprise at such a stupid question.
"Do you fear me?"
"...I give my fear to those who earn it."
Crabbe and Goyle re-entered the cabin just then, and Lupin leaned back in his seat to let them pass. His conversation with the young Malfoy halted abruptly.
He watched him though, out of the corner of his eyes, even as he opened his book once again. He watched him, and found more and more interest in it. There were so many levels to this boy, not just the coldness that lay on top. He wasn't just a Malfoy, it seemed as though to Lupin, that he played the part of one simply because he knew no other way in which to act.
* Quassie: it's from an original short I'm writing. A sort of...evil creature that drags people into bogs. Don't ask.
A/N2: Ok, this is the end of chapter one, the other chapters get A LOT better, this one I was still trying to get the feel for the story. I have already written about...4 more chapters, but I'm not sure if I should post them. Should I post them? I might anyhow...but please tell me what you think of this so far, and if you have any suggestions for what you'd like to have happen, just let me know. I have no real plot with this, not...entirely anyway, I'm just sorta allowing it to write its self. Don't forget to review...!!!!.