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Dark Wind

*Chapter Nine*

Silence is Explosive

By Hype

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NOTE: All right, I finally have the time to write the rest of this story now that school is out.:) **I am REALLY sorry for being so late with this chapter!!!** Also, the chapters will start to become longer... I suppose I just feel like writing...finally.



**WAIT!!! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SOME BAD LANGUAGE!!! Heh, if that offends you, I hope you can live with it...Just so you know.:)**



Sirius Black sat on the cave floor looking at the two people across from him with an amused expression on his face. Utter silence surrounded them in the cave, all save the crackling and hissing of the dying fire. Harry and Draco had not spoken to each other since they had found that the both of them where in love with Hermione, which had been about an hour ago. Sirius had been wondering when Harry would ask why Draco was concerned about Hermione`s well-being. When Draco had answered that he was seeing Hermione and was in love with her, Harry was crushed, and then blinded by angry emotions and launched a fight with him. Sirius had to physically separate them as so many of their professors had done for the duration of their time at Hogwarts.

Harry had settled in one corner, Draco in the opposite. Their eyes had not moved from each other`s since then. Sirius chuckled at the two...They hadn't`t changed much over the years. It reminded him of the days when James Potter and Severus Snape fought. Sirius smiled for a brief moment as he remembered James. Harry had turned out to look exactly like his father apart from the startling green eyes and the little lightning bolt scar. It almost pained Sirius to be reminded of James each time he saw Harry, but he was glad it had turned out that way. In a sense, it was as if James was reincarnated and was living as his own godson.

Draco Malfoy sat in the corner opposite of Harry, loathing him to the utmost extent. He had always hated Harry; the predicament that they were in made him hate Harry even more, and he was absolutely positive that the feeling was mutual. Draco`s face gave into his familiar scowl, though it didn't`t look quite the same as he still had Harry`s face. Harry wanted to marry Hermione...Potter doesn't`t deserve her, he thought angrily. He left her. If he really loved her than he wouldn't`t have left her. She deserves better than that... And then his conscience kicked in: she deserves better than you. Draco scowl deepened, and he tried to get his mind back on Harry`s devious was. And here I thought Gryffindors were suppose to be brave and loyal.... He snorted in disgust, but it just didn't`t feel right through Harry`s nose.

Harry`s brilliant green eyes stared into Draco`s, or what appeared to be his own. He noticed how piercing his own eyes were...Eyes that had seen a thousand triumphs and a million deaths stared into him, giving him an almost hollow feeling. Harry supposed being hollow wouldn't be a bad trade right about now....Then again, he thought of Hermione and his hollowness began to ebb away. She had always soothed his worst days, making them just seem like wisps of gray smoke over a cloudy background. He really did love her, and he only hoped that she could forgive him one day for what he had done.

However, forgiving didn't`t seem to be the way between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. It was Sirius who realized this and decided to do something about it."Boys," he began, catching their attention, though their eyes still remained lock on one another's. "Hermione Granger will die if you stay there staring at each other like that. Let`s get this plot over with before I have to open a can of whoop-ass on you two little boys," he said, not even flinching.



That really caught their attention. The two quickly turned their heads towards the tall figure standing across the dimming fire at the mention of being called little boys. Harry had to stop himself from bursting out in laughter. Sirius is a really good actor, Harry mused. Draco didn't`t find it humorous in the slightest. In fact, he found it quite the opposite. He took it literally. It was time to start making progress...





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Pansy Parkinson sat dumbfounded in her kitchen chair. She had just realized who Draco had slept with. It was one of their old school enemies- Hermione Granger. Hermione fucking Granger, she thought angrily. She turned her mug of coffee around in her hands idly, and then looked around her quaint flat. She felt numb, full of no feeling at all. She couldn't`t even begin to comprehend the situation. Her brown eyes wondered over the scenery in her kitchen, or rather lack of. Her flat was rather plain, and she had insisted on it being that way, though her mother constantly took the liberty of telling her it was ugly. But Pansy liked it plain; plain, just as her life was; plain and full of no meaning or importance of any kind. That was why she wanted to marry Malfoy: to be of importance, to mean something in society.

She looked back into her coffee, whose perfect blackness reflected her feeling. She sighed. What is happening to Draco? she wondered. Had he really fallen for his enemy? The very thought of him doing so made her shiver. If Draco really loves that mudblood, then he surely wouldn't`t be the successor to the Dark Throne, would he? If he didn't`t, then what would happen to him, or yet worse, what would happen to me?

She didn't`t know, nor did she really want to know. All she knew was that she wanted revenge on Granger for clouding her and Draco`s future together. She grinned insanely, seeing her way to get that sweet revenge. Hermione Granger wouldn't look so pretty when Pansy Parkinson was done with her. Parkinson got up from her little chair and walked to the bathroom to look into the mirror and rehearse what she would say to the Dark Lord.

Pansy frowned when she looked into the mirror. She had large bags under her eyes and her cheeks had dried mascara stains upon them from when she cried over Draco and what would never be hers. Her blonde hair was in no better condition. A few dark blonde wisps of hair hung limply around her face, making her look all the more miserable. Her hair looked very deshelved from tangling her fingers in it in frustration and anguish. She opened her mouth to inspect her teeth, which weren't any better than the rest of her. They stood in crooked rows and were beginning to yellow around the edges. She frowned, then reached for her cosmetics bag. She had a lot of work to do before she went to see Voldemort.



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Narcissa sat on the black leather couch just outside of her husband`s room desperately attempting to wipe away the steady flow of tear cascading down her cheeks with her embroidered handkerchief. Lucius Malfoy, her life-long companion, was slowly dying; he had been for the last few years. Just in the last two months had it gotten really serious. He would often have to stop and rest while he was walking down the corridors. He would cough for long periods of time during meals, as if he were choking the food down. Some days he would simply stay locked in his room, too weak to move from his bed.

She didn't want him to die. No matter what he did or how much he hurt her, she didn't want him to die. Narcissa was still in love with the man she had married thirty-two years ago when she was still in her early twenties. And somewhere, in the very bottom hollow of her heart, she felt that he still loved her too.

A voice called from inside the room, weak but loud, "Narcissa!" Her head slowly lifted from its downward position and her blue eyes shifted away from the green marble floor. It was Lucius. She got up from the couch slowly, walked to the opposite side of the corridor, and opened the mahogany door that lead to his bed chambers. Lucius Malfoy was on his throne-like bed, spread limply across the dark green covers and pillows. It took all she had not to start crying again.

"Yes?" she asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Lucius`s throat made a raspy, wheezing sound and he began to speak. "I`m going to die very soon...."

That was it; Narcissa had a steady flow of tears down her face. Lucius frowned, then motioned for her to come forward. She obliged, and he moved over on his bed to make room for her. Narcissa was stunned at this gesture, for Lucius Malfoy hadn't`t comforted her since her miscarriage that occurred two years after Draco`s birth. Slowly, cautiously, she began to climb onto the bed until she was laying next to him. He slid his arm under her neck and turned her head to face him. Gently, he wiped away the tears that were there with his thumb though it was in vain, for they were quickly replaced with new ones. He withdrew his hand, seeing that it would be of no real use.

He let out a long, low, rattling sigh. "It has come to my attention that our son does not want to spend his life ruling the Dark Side. There is no point," he caused to let out a violent cough, "There is no point in arguing for it is an obvious fact. He dreads going to the Dark Lord`s fort each day. He is no longer interested in the pure wizard blood that he has inherited. A new age has dawned and, though we have been fighting it somewhat successfully, it will overcome us; it is only a matter of time. Each year the line between muggle-borns and pure-bloods grows thinner. However, Draco will stay on the Dark Side as long as Voldemort lives."

Narcissa sighed sadly. "Can`t he just leave it?"

Lucius frowned. "He can`t get out now... None of us will ever get out." Lucius began to twitch, and Narcissa sat up in alarm, looking down in pure terror at her husband. The twitching got worse, and Lucius began to cough violently. "Get out," he said through his raspy throat. Narcissa didn't`t budge, nor did her facial expression. "GET OUT!" he repeated, this time nearly screaming it. Narcissa jumped off the bed, startled, and ran out of the room, her husband`s wheezing following in her ears.

Once she was in her room she grabbed her parchment and dipped her white quill into the thick, black ink of her ink bottle. She leaned over the parchment and bit her lip as she pressed the quill down onto the parchment, trying to control her shaking hand. In the end, she managed to write:

D.M.-

Your father is dying. He needs to speak with you... I`m afraid he won`t last for long.

Love,

Mother



She hurriedly attached the note to her old eagle owl and told him to find Draco and deliver the message as quickly as possible. When the owl had flown out her white-draped window, Narcissa laid herself down on her bed and cried, thinking of how the time was slipping away from her.





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Draco Malfoy, who had taken the last hour to restore his own body in replacement of Harry Potter`s, broke off a small branch from a nearby tree and went back into the cave were Darkbane and Potter were waiting for him. Since he had insisted on not using his wand to draw the plans up on the dirt floor, Darkbane had ordered him to get a branch from outside if he wanted to argue about it. Draco had obeyed, for he just wanted to be away from Harry Potter for just one moment. If the moment was a forced moment, then so be it, for it was still away from Potter. Draco sat down on a small log that would later be used for the fire and handed the branch to who he thought was a man named Jack Darkbane. Sirius took it and began to draw a series of circles and lines in the soft dirt of the cave floor.

"Here," he said, drawing a large circle, "is the Dark Lord`s fort. And here," he said, drawing yet another circle bit further away and much smaller, "is this cave. Voldemort has Death Eater guards all around the perimeter, each of them about twenty feet apart. They have occasional breaks when only one person leaves the perimeter for about ten minutes and then returns. That leaves us ten minutes to get through a forty-foot gap undetected. Are you two following me?"

Harry and Draco nodded obediently.

"Now," he said, pointing to a corrdinence on the opposite side of their circle from where their cave was positioned, "this area is densely covered with trees and a bunch of over-grown garden shit, making it a bit easier to sneak in. The guard that is positioned there leaves at approximately a quarter past two in the morning and returns around twenty-five past each night. There are only three entrances to the inside of his fortress. One is the main entrance in which his visitor go through, and another is the back door for secret exchanges. Both of these are heavily guarded."

"And the third entrance?" Harry asked, not skipping a beat.

"The third entrance isn't guarded at all. No one except Voldemort and myself know about it. It`s an escape route Voldemort secretly constructed himself. I found it by accident one day while I was visiting. It`s a tunnel that leads directly to Voldemort`s dormitory, though there were several doors along the sides of the tunnel I did not investigate. The entrance of it is very hard to find, much like the entrance of Diagon Alley, only much more complicated and not nearly as famous. There is a sequence to opening it by tapping your wand. Do either of you two have a piece of parchment?"

"I do," Harry replied, pulling out his shrunken suitcase from his pocket. He tapped it with his wand and it grew to its regular size. Opening the trunk, he pulled out a sheaf of parchment and a Bergen`s Automatic Ink Specialized Quill. "What`s the sequence?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "When you get past the guard, go forward ten paces. On the left you will see a trail of tiny mushrooms. Follow them. They will lead you to a small log. Malfoy, you will need to tap the largest branch on the left side of it."

"Why can`t I tap it?" Harry asked.

"The log is wired to dark magic. If you touch it, an alarm will go off."

Harry nodded. "Right, then. Continue."

Sirius nodded and went on. "After it`s tapped, look down. There will be a small, and I mean small, green arrow that will point out which way to go. Walk fifteen paces and turn to the right. You will see a large oak tree that is very large at the base and very small at the top, kind of resembling the shape of a pair fruit. There should be a big wooden knot in the center of it. Are you getting this, Potter?"

Harry nodded feverishly, scribbling the sequence quickly in order to keep up with Sirius`s fast talking.

"Draco will tap the knot three times at four second intervals exactly. The tree will open up and a steep staircase going down underground will appear. You two will follow it and it will lead you to what you might think is a dead end. Don`t be fooled. Draco, tap the wall in front of you five times at nine second intervals. It will open to the tunnel I told you of-"

"What happens if you don`t tap it at the right intervals?"

"You`ll be splinched and cremated," Sirius answered.

Harry winced slightly, and Draco nodded understandingly.

"Anyway, once you`re inside, I can no longer help you."

Harry looked like he wanted to say something, but he paused. "We won`t need any help once we`re inside," Harry decided.

Draco looked at Harry quizzically. "We won`t?"

Harry pulled out the small metallic cube he had taken from a counter in his office before leaving. "We won't," he stated, completely sure of himself. "Not with this on out side."

"Well, you keep that with you then," Draco said, thinking Harry had completely flown off his hinges this time. He didn't see how a small metal cube could help anybody at all. Just then, a familiar eagle owl flew in and landed on Draco`s lap, making him jump. He looked down and quickly recognized it as his mother`s. The owl had his leg outstretched, holding some parchment, and looking up at him. Draco untied the letter freeing the owl's leg. He read the letter and looked up at Darkbane and Potter, his face completely devoid of expression.

"My father is dying."





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Hermione woke up in the dungeon cell screaming, then immediately stopped herself when she remembered the vile things around her. She had the dream again; the dream that pulled her away from her lover. She figured it had to mean something....But she couldn't`t think of anything that the dream could represent besides her current position, but when she had been taken from Draco, it did not feel the same as the dream had. The dream had been more painful- much more painful.

Knowing all was hopeless, Hermione sighed in exasperation. She knew she loved both Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, and it had come to her attention that neither of them really deserved her. Both of them had hurt her so much in the past. Then again, everyone makes mistakes, don`t they?



She looked down and saw a snake slide through her foot. She blinked and looked back at the snake. Did I just see what I though I saw? she asked herself, almost afraid to answer. A snake just went through my foot. She paused, letting it sink in. Wait a minute! she thought, If that was real, then all of these creatures are illusions....

Hermione decided to test her theory. She decided she would rather touch a rat than a snake- just in case the were actually real. She looked around the dark, stone chamber which was only lit by two small torches and saw a rat. It was halfway across the room. Unfortunately, her path to it was swarming with snakes. Hermione swallowed hard, really hoping that the snakes were an illusion. She began to slowly go towards the rat, who appeared to be eating the remainder of the bread crumbs off her plate, trying carefully not to step on anything that would bite her. A few launched towards her attempting to bite her ankles, but she successfully dodged them and reached the rat.

Looking down at the rat, she noticed that it didn't`t seem to see her for it didn't`t move as she closed in around it. Rather, it still sat nibbling on the bread crumbs. Hermione reached down with trembling fingers towards the rat. Never in a million years did Hermione think she would voluntarily touch a rat; nonetheless, she did, or at least attempted to. Her theory was confirmed when her fingers went right through the specimen. She turned around and touched a snake, finding that it was she same as the rat. She touched another, and it was still the same result. Relief washed over her face. It was all an illusion created by Voldemort.

It was all an illusion. She smiled and walked freely around the room, stepping wherever she pleased. "It isn't`t real," she whispered. The creatures vanished instantly. The only thing that remained in the room was a small plate which held a few crumbs. She smiled again. Her mental block was over, leaving her to be fearless.





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Pansy Parkinson walked up confidently to Voldemort`s fortress whereupon a burly guard in a black and red uniform cloak stopped her. "What`s your business here?" he asked gruffly, staring down at her.

"I need to see the Dark Lord."

The guard chuckled at her confidence. "And what make you think you can do that? Hell, even I haven`t seen him!" he spat.

Pansy`s face showed no emotion as she held out her left wrist, burned and ugly with the Dark Mark, and said, "I am the heir`s fiancé. Let me pass or Draco Malfoy will shred you to tiny pieces and feed you to his pet dragon. I`m sure Killer will just love meat like your's. You don`t want that, do you?"

The guard looked nervously at the Dark Mark burned upon her wrist. He would not have been nervous if the skull on the Dark Mark didn't`t have a crown on it like her`s, which meant that she was in the Royal Circle of Voldemort`s Death Eaters. The guard glanced back over his shoulder at another guard behind him as if to ask a question. He must have for the guard nodded. They let Pansy Parkinson past them, emitting her into Voldemort`s fortress.

Pansy smirked as she passed them. Draco didn't`t have a pet dragon named Killer, and she wasn't`t exactly his fiance anymore either.





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Sirius and Harry stared at Draco, both thinking the same thing, only Harry was the one to actually say it: "So what? He isn't`t exactly what anyone could call a saint...Hell, he`s loads closer to Satan himself..."

"And he isn't`t very helpful or nice or anything," Sirius added. "He`s a prat...insolent as hell."

Draco stared blankly at them. "He is my father."

Harry looked as though he were in deep thought. "Well, I suppose it makes sense that only he could produce something like you, right? So I suppose that is perfectly valid. Come to think of it-"

"Oh, stuff it, Potter," Draco said coldly, though it would have sounded childish if it wasn't`t for the eye daggers Draco was giving Harry now.

"Look, Malfoy, I know he`s your dad and all," Harry started, but was fiercely interrupted by Draco, whose face had turned so serious it would have made the Wall of China crumble to ruins.

"He is not my dad, Potter. He is my father. Daddies act one way and fathers act another. My father strictly regards me as a biological son. Being the heir that Voldemort chose for his throne just gets me on his good side, if you could even say he has a good side. My father despises me, Potter."

Sirius and Harry stared at him, almost afraid to speak. The air between them was so tense that it seemed as though it would explode. The explosion seemed to Potter first, as always.

"So does that mean you`re going to see him or not? You said he hates you, and so do I; either way, you`re completely unwanted-"

"Shut it, Potter!" Sirius snapped.

"It`s either Hermione or your father. Choose now," Harry finished. Sirius shot him a powerful do-that-again-and-I`ll-kill-you look.

Draco`s eyes turned purple again, slightly alarming the two wizards across from him. He spoke very quietly, making him barely audible over the crackling of the fire. "No fair, Potter. No fair. My father is my blood; Hermione is my heart. You can`t ask me to choose between them and you know it." It was true. Nearly anything Draco said was true. He did not lie, and they all knew it.

Sirius looked at the two young men, who had resumed to shooting more eye daggers at each other. He sighed, running his worn hand through his jet-black hair. "Boys, we are getting ourselves absolutely nowhere. Draco, apparate to your father. Say a few words and apparate back here by midnight."

"That only gives me two hours," Draco said stonily.

Sirius grinned. "The I suggest you leave soon. Potter will start the mission without you if you aren't back by then. If he saves Hermione," said Sirius, jabbing his thumb in Harry`s direction, "I don`t reckon she`ll think of you in the highest regards, will she?"

Sirius barely had time to finish before the POP of Draco apparating out of the cave sounded.

Harry looked at his godfather and laughed. "You`ve really gotten everyone on the Dark Side convinced haven`t you, Jack Darkbane?"

"I know, I know...Harry, be quiet about it around Malfoy, okay? He doesn't`t know who I really am."

"Isn't`t that obvious, Sirius? I`ve been trying really hard just to call you Jack!"

Sirius`s grin faded. "Just keep it down, all right? If Draco finds out, he won't help us. We need him on this mission."





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Voldemort paced the room like an impatient tiger waiting to be fed, occasionally glancing at the frail, blonde woman on the opposite side of the room, standing impatiently, her robes dangerously revealing and her painted dark red lips in a pout- it was hard for him to refuse. Pansy Parkinson may have been a dumb blonde, but she was a rather attractive one; at least, to him she was.

"All right," he said, finally giving in and stopping his pacing. "Go and see her. Tell the guard I sent you. If he gives you any trouble, tell me and I`ll dispose of him."Pansy flashed a suggesting smile at him and left the room, swaying her hips a bit more than usual.

Pansy made her way to the dungeons, an evil grin spreading across her face. She was going to pay a little visit to Hermione. A visit which, of course, she would win, seeing as she had a wand and poor Hermione Granger didn't`t. How sweet revenge truly was.

Winding through the long, narrow, stone corridors, she finally reached the door that lead to Voldemort`s dungeons. She paused before opening it, making absolute sure that she wanted to go in there, for there was a strong, horrible odor seeping through the old, rotting wooden door. Deciding it was now or never, she flung the door open. The smell was, in very mild terminology, excruciatingly horrid. It was the stench of rotting flesh. She gasped for fresh air, but her needs were not satisfied as her lungs received the stale, foul air. She then remembered reading somewhere that ninety percent of your taste is based on smell, and she couldn't help but agree with that now. It was as if she was kissing a guy who had eaten a pound of garlic and twenty bags of rotten eggs the night before and not brushed his teeth in the morning.

Still, she went on, both hands on the handrail and carefully placing one foot in front of the other as she descended down the small, narrow, steep and slippery steps. Also, she could barely see where she was going as there wasn't really any light. She would have reached for her wand if it meant that she didn't have to let go of the handrail. She looked ahead and saw that she was approaching a corner. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have seen it if it wasn't for a bright green light glowing from around the other side of it. Curious, she turned around the corner and felt something hard hit her face. She heard herself scream as she fell back onto the floor in surprise and hit her head. Everything went black.





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Draco Malfoy apparated to the Malfoy Estate, which was delicately placed atop a hill over looking Hogsmeade. He made no waste of time as he instantly started walking down the main corridor to his father`s room, pausing once to looking in a mirror and make absolute sure that he did not look like Harry Potter anymore and too fix his already-perfect hair. His fast pace, to an ordinary person, would have seemed to get him nowhere, but Draco was used to the long corridors that the house held in its walls. Indeed, the hall was long, but he was gaining ground. After five minutes of walking, he came to his father`s large mahogany door; outside of it stood his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, who was silently crying. In a flash, Draco drew her up into a swift hug and then kissed her on the cheek.

"How is he?" he asked, looking down into the water blue eyes of his mother, who was about a head shorter than him.

She sniffed and drew out her beloved embroidered handkerchief and blew her nose. "Go and see for yourself, Draco," she said quietly, her nose still buried in the handkerchief.

He nodded, opened the door, and walked in, leaving his mother outside of his father`s bed chamber. He strode silently into the room, his black leather shoes moving soundlessly across the plush black carpet, and stopped at the foot of his father`s bed, completely unaffected by Lucius`s appearance. Lucius had large bags under his eyes and he seemed paler than usual, which was hard to accomplish. Lucius lifted his shaking hand and gestured for the nurse at his bedside to leave. The nurse nodded obediently and left the two alone.

"You wanted to speak to me father," asked Draco; it had been meant as a question, but came out sounding like a statement.

"Don`t be so harsh, Draco," said Lucius harshly.



Draco was tempted to call him a hypocrite. Instead, he retorted with: "Well, what do you expect me to be after the way you raised me?" Draco's jaw clenched tightly, making his jaw look impossibly square.

Lucius sighed. "Don`t be like this."

"Be like what, father? Like you? Honestly, what did you expect? Bloody Gildory fucking Lockheart?" Draco snapped, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"No-"

"Then what?"

"I expected you to be what you are," said Lucius, wheezing slightly as he said it. Draco rolled his eyes. "To be high in society," Lucius continued. "And you are, Draco. That`s all I wanted...That`s all I expected."

Draco snorted."Oh, please...Why did you badger me about discipline? Why did you beat mother and me? I remember when I was sixteen and you said that I wasn't`t good enough. I wasn't`t fucking good enough. Isn't`t second in my year good enough for you? Isn't`t captain and seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team good enough for you? Isn't`t being the only heir of the fucking Dark Throne good enough for you? And what about mom? Is she good enough for you?!" Draco shouted angrily.

"Don`t you bring your mother into this!" hissed Lucius, sitting up in his bed. "Listen here, Draco, I am still your father-"

Draco scowled deeply. Draco never remembered a scowl that felt as right as this one did in his life. "You never were my father." With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him and making a painting of himself when he was younger on the outside wall by his mother fall out of its place. The painting caught on the corner of a chair and the canvas tore. Draco stormed twenty feet away from the door and down the corridor before he turned back and came back up to the door and screamed as loud as possible, "I`LL BE GLAD WHEN YOU DIE!!!" The sound of an expensive vase breaking against the door was heard. Draco turned around, pause to look at his startled mother, and proceeded to storm down the hall, a long string of obscenities flowing from his mouth.

Inside his room, Lucius began to cry out of both anger and remorse. "I was just trying to be his father..." he said to no one in particular.

Outside of his room, Narcissa picked up the torn painting. The painting was of Draco when he was about six or seven; suitably enough, he wasn't`t smiling. The rip in the canvas slashed thru Draco`s young complexion. "My, my," she sighed, "what a broken childhood that boy has." She shook her had sadly and place the canvas back on the wall.





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DISCLAIMER: It`s not all mine, but the plot is.



NOTE: I AM SOOOOO VERY SORRY FOR TAKING SUCH A LONG TIME TO POST THIS CHAPTER! Hell, to post anything, actually. Anywho, I`m back and summer break is here, and that means I have much more time on my hands to write, so you can expect a lot more work out of me.:) Also, I`m looking for a beta for this story. If you`re interested, just say so and I`ll contact you or you could email me. Either way, I do need one. On a final note, I`ve put a ton of work into this chapter, so, naturally, I want you to review. *smiles sweetly* Or else.

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SO DON`T BE A CHICKEN, LEAVE A REVIEW!!!!! (there was a question as to whether or not you actually get chicken by Al, and the answer is: do you really want it? I`m sure that by the time I ship it to you, it could very well be green. However, if green chicken is what you want, be my guest. I will send you a green chicken, and that`s got to be worth something on ebay.:)