Study hard

Study hard. If your report does not improve then the consequences will be worse than you could imagine. Sometimes I wonder how someone who is supposed to be so smart acts so stupid.

 Draco read this part of the letter over again. His father often sent him letters like this. The consequences of his defence against the Dark Arts mark, which would have been adequate to any other proud parent, left him shuddering. He did not want to study but he would. He was obedient, always obedient to his demanding father. He received good grades but they should have been better. It seemed with every harsh word more life got drained out of him, every impossibly high standard drained more colour out of his deathly pale skin. He wanted to meet the standard. Usually he did. Sometimes he wasn't good enough. He found jealousy blinding everything, jealousy of everyone. Even Crabbe and Goyle who were as thick as two planks. No pressure was put on them. They drifted through life in a series of grunts and confused nods. He longed to disobey. Longed with all his being, but failure would destroy him. The girls voice rang in his mind.

"Run away, run far away. One day I will run as well."

The girl spoke to him often, she promised him great things, she had no name, no age, no home but she was real. So much more real than him. She spoke constantly, sometimes in fits of rapid cheerfulness, sarcasm, depression. She didn't know what she spoke of though. She held impossible dreams that didn't enter his mind. All his sense told him that no one was talking really, that he was crazy. Deep inside he knew it was lies though, she was real.

He sent her a depressed moody reply,  "he will find me, he will hunt me down and then you won't be able to talk to me again because I'll be 6 foot under."

She wasn't deterred, she never was. "What's the point in living if it's his life you're living, I say you run, what excitement!"

He didn't want to speak to her anymore. She had too many false hopes and she had so much more life than him. Speaking to her was ridiculous, he had to stop. His father would find out sooner or later and out a stop to it. He would stop the insistent voice now.

***

He stared at the mark on his Transfiguration test. It was a horrible mark, a C. Failure ran through every cell of his, every fibre, every atom. It stung, his stomach dropped and his heart ached. He nearly made an effort to seek out the girl and get some comfort, but he had made a promise to himself to not talk to her. Her voice rang out consistently. She was in a bad mood and her voice cut through the numb pain in his mind.

"Dance is so degrading, so what if I am unco. I tell you you're lucky everyone hates you, at least they leave you alone. If I don't do everything they say they report me to the teachers, squares."

Draco shook his head, he didn't need her petty problems. He looked up to meet Goyles eyes. They were excited. He held up a D proudly. To his surprise he managed a weak smile. He couldn't runaway, he'd have to go home, he hoped no news of his grades reached his father before the report card came out. He'd need a long time to prepare his mind for the gruelling punishment.

"Intercept the report, change the mark." The voice rang out.

She surprised him, sometimes she knew exactly what was going on. Other times she would ask a million niggling questions.

"You can't change the reports, they make it so it is impossible, you stupid git," he sent the message to her and he grated his teeth as if she was actually there in front of him.

"Well, that wasn't very nice, young squire," the mans voice said. He hadn't spoken in a long time. He just sat there and listened. His voice got a little fainter everyday. The mind exercises he did at home had pushed out the other voice so it could easily get rid of the voice of the knight. It would, he knew, the moment he got back to Malfoy mansion. His voice got quieter every visit, but the girls voice never dimmed. Usually he was nice to her, she was always so comforting. Her only big flaw aside from never shutting up was that she held a soft spot for the Weasleys. He found himself being meaner to Ron and his poverty stricken family just because she wished him to be nicer. He stood up, dread and a funny tingling sensation still hung in his stomach. He swept down the corridor in an enormous hurry. He stepped lightly over someone picking up their books, which were scattered all over the floor. He turned to see that it was Ginny Weasley, helped by another boy with Sandy hair.

"He wants you to help," she said.

"As usual you are making no sense," he answered.

"The follower wants you to," she said as if that was the simplest thing in the world. He paused, how could she hear him.

"I thought no one could hear him anymore, you never said you could," he was angry, the follower had always made a lot more sense than the girl and the knight.

"Well, I can and the knight can hear him a bit too," she said.

He had no answer for that. They had never told him that he was the only one that ever lost contact with the voices. He spotted one of Ginny's books on the floor and kicked it as hard as he could.

***

Ron was sulking, everyone thought that Harry controlled him. They were doing a group activity in Divination and Ron refused to be the one who did the boring tealeaves. They didn't try to bargain with him. Instead they turned to Harry. He still heard their pathetic pleas to Harry. "Harry, make Ron do what we say" and then they had tried to force him to stand up "Harry, make Ron stand up." As if he was some kind of dog. Everyone thought Harry was all-powerful and that he was weak he should do everything Harry said. Hermione was always cooperative, everyone thought as her as equal with Harry. He was nothing. He looked at his reflection in the lake. His hair stood up in angry tufts matching his mood. He could see the tatty collar of his shirt in the water. Both Hermione and Harry had money, was that what made them seem so powerful? In the distance he heard his name being called out. Harry and Hermione were looking for him. He didn't really feel like speaking to them. He stood up and made his way to the castle. He remembered a secret passage he'd seen on the Marauders map and made his way there. He went inside the secret passage in the wall and made his way up some stone steps. He'd been there before. There was paper on the floor from his last visit. He picked up a sheet and labelled it WAYS TO MAKE MONEY. Under the label he put the number 1. Beside one he put SELL CHOCOLATE FROG CARDS. He looked at that suggestion regrettably he had been collecting cards for so long he didn't know how he would part with them. He reminded himself that it was for a good cause. He heard footsteps from the narrow corridor and a figure appeared at the door. Draco Malfoy appeared inside the room. He was muttering to himself. Ron had a horrible urge to push him backwards don the stairs. Malfoy spotted him after a moment. Ron quickly remembered the piece of paper and tried to hide it. It was too late. Malfoy had seen the label on the paper and he smirked at Ron cruelly.

"Making money for the family Weasley, I suppose you're overweight mum is dying for a chocolate bar."

Ron launched himself up, completely ready to smash his face in.

"May I remind you that you seem to have absolutely no wand on you, I'd retreat now," Malfoy said as he drew his wand.

As much as it hurt, Ron knew he's have to back off. Malfoy was good at charms. He turned his back and started to stomp away but Malfoy called out.

"I have a way for you to make money, Weasley. When I get back home on the holidays, I will have a particularly nasty grade being delivered to my father by owl. All you have to do is be me for a day and take some punishment and I'll l give you

50 galleons, deal?"

Draco Malfoy said all this with the smooth voice of a businessman but something in his eyes was desperate. 50 galleons was a lot of money, probably more than his family had in the bank.

"But how? What will I do?" Ron stammered.

"I can work that out, all you have to do is be me for a day. Now is it a deal or am I wasting my time?"

"60 galleons and you have to pay me beforehand," Ron said more confidently than he felt.

Draco gave a nod and a tight-lipped smile. He than sat down on one of the chairs in the room and didn't move. Ron hesitated for a moment and then he bounded down the steps and up to Gryffindor tower.

***

All this belongs to J.K Rowling. The voices belong to me, well actually they belong to Draco. Please R/R and tell me whether you think I should continue.