- Sorry this has been so long in the making. I've been sick, and I've had
homework, and my potions final is coming up soon... Well, the first two are
true. Anyway, I'm a review junkie (hint, hint!!!) so, ENJOY CHAPTER TWO! By
the way, I'm not entirely sure as to where this is going... It may develop
into H/D slash, so if you don't like it, don't read it. Title by NIN. Until
next chapter -Bouncing Ferret
Chapter 2 Salvation comes only in my dreams
"Fucking hell, Goyle!" Draco cried, slamming his fist against his desk. Both Goyle, and Crabbe, two enormous, and thick-headed Slytherins, blinked stupidly at the smaller boy. "What?" Goyle asked blankly. Draco glared at the cold, stone wall of his dorm, seething with anger. His so-called friends, they were more like bodyguards, really, frustrated him to no end. He wished, not for the first time, that he had selected his friends more carefully, back in first year. Perhaps he shouldn't have alienated so many of his peers. He sighed, trying to regain his normal, icy composure. "Now," he said slowly, as though speaking to a small, and perhaps rather stupid, child, "could you please leave me alone for three seconds? You two may be more than happy to let yourselves be thrown out, but I have work to do." At that, he gathered up his books, and stomped off towards to library, leaving Crabbe and Goyle, still confused, in his wake.
The Hogwarts library was huge, and not unlike Draco's father's personal library. Draco shuddered. He had heard the rumours, that his corrupt Death- Eater father had abused him as a child, but they were all lies. He had, in fact, been a happy, and completely spoilt little boy. But the rumour-mill did have one thing right, he never wanted to become his father. He detested looking in the mirror; the famous Malfoy platinum-blonde hair, the same sharp features, and cold grey eyes as his father. He looked exactly as the Malfoy heir should, and hated himself for it. Lucius was a Death-Eater, as everybody knew, but what they did not know, was that he was also a violent alcoholic, prone to frequent, volatile tantrums. Draco had learned to cope with these outbursts long ago, and escaped to the safety of his room whenever his father started drinking. Not that Lucius had ever turned on Draco, at least not physically, but Draco simply preferred his father sober, at least then he left him alone. His mother was the one no-one ever suspected as being the abusive parent, another thing the rumours had been wrong about. Her harsh words still echoed in his head. "Draco, you fucking pathetic little queer..." That had been the main reason he'd wanted so badly to attend Durmstrang, instead of Hogwarts, to get as far away from the Malfoy name as humanly possible.
He took a seat, and gracelessly dumped the books in front of him. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate, he rarely could these days. He supposed it was a combination of the anemia he was rather prone to, and the number of important issues he was turning over in his head. The end of his time at Hogwarts was drawing near, and the question of his future was nearing with it. He didn't have plans, post-graduation, however that wasn't a problem. It wasn't as though he needed money. The problem was the regular owls his father had been sending him; thinly veiled bribes to consider a life as a death-eater. Draco shook his head, trying to clear it. Although he had grown up surrounded by supporters of Voldemort, God, he had even been taught to use his name, he had no intention of joining them. He saw their cause as nothing more than pathetic hero worship, although he would never voice his opinion in front of his parents. His inheritance was already under threat, after his refusals of an arranged-marriage. That surprised even Draco. He had been raised under the impression that when he was old enough, his parents would select the daughter of another old wizarding family, and the two would be wed; no ifs, ands or buts.
The young Slytherin sighed. He wasn't sure what it was about the prospect of the arranged-marriage that he was so violently opposed to. He wasn't especially interested in love, or even sex for that matter. The whole idea was too messy, both physically and emotionally, for his liking. But what troubled him the most, was that his parents' involvement, he hesitated to refer to it as a relationship, was the product of such an arrangement. An agreement to participate would simply be another step towards truely being his father's son.
Draco sat back against the hard wood of the chair, and allowed his mind to wander. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar Gryffindor back, over the other side of the room. Hermione had become almost a permanent fixture in the Hogwarts library from day one. Draco didn't much care for her, but even he had to admit that she was rather a brilliant student. She was alone, as she usually was in the library, the only place she ever seemed to be alone. Normally, she was rarely seen outside the company of Harry and that little bastard, Weasley. At the thought of Harry, Draco's mind gave a slight jolt. There was something about him that fascinated Draco. He was no longer jelous of the Gryffindor, and the pair had assumed a cold distance from each other, rather than the white-hot hatred of earlier years.
He toyed with the idea of approaching Hermione, asking after Harry, but quickly decided against it. She, like so many others, detested Draco, and would enquire as to why he was asking. What could he tell her? He didn't know, himself. Why did he care? He gathered up his books, and quickly left the library, in search of asprin.
Chapter 2 Salvation comes only in my dreams
"Fucking hell, Goyle!" Draco cried, slamming his fist against his desk. Both Goyle, and Crabbe, two enormous, and thick-headed Slytherins, blinked stupidly at the smaller boy. "What?" Goyle asked blankly. Draco glared at the cold, stone wall of his dorm, seething with anger. His so-called friends, they were more like bodyguards, really, frustrated him to no end. He wished, not for the first time, that he had selected his friends more carefully, back in first year. Perhaps he shouldn't have alienated so many of his peers. He sighed, trying to regain his normal, icy composure. "Now," he said slowly, as though speaking to a small, and perhaps rather stupid, child, "could you please leave me alone for three seconds? You two may be more than happy to let yourselves be thrown out, but I have work to do." At that, he gathered up his books, and stomped off towards to library, leaving Crabbe and Goyle, still confused, in his wake.
The Hogwarts library was huge, and not unlike Draco's father's personal library. Draco shuddered. He had heard the rumours, that his corrupt Death- Eater father had abused him as a child, but they were all lies. He had, in fact, been a happy, and completely spoilt little boy. But the rumour-mill did have one thing right, he never wanted to become his father. He detested looking in the mirror; the famous Malfoy platinum-blonde hair, the same sharp features, and cold grey eyes as his father. He looked exactly as the Malfoy heir should, and hated himself for it. Lucius was a Death-Eater, as everybody knew, but what they did not know, was that he was also a violent alcoholic, prone to frequent, volatile tantrums. Draco had learned to cope with these outbursts long ago, and escaped to the safety of his room whenever his father started drinking. Not that Lucius had ever turned on Draco, at least not physically, but Draco simply preferred his father sober, at least then he left him alone. His mother was the one no-one ever suspected as being the abusive parent, another thing the rumours had been wrong about. Her harsh words still echoed in his head. "Draco, you fucking pathetic little queer..." That had been the main reason he'd wanted so badly to attend Durmstrang, instead of Hogwarts, to get as far away from the Malfoy name as humanly possible.
He took a seat, and gracelessly dumped the books in front of him. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate, he rarely could these days. He supposed it was a combination of the anemia he was rather prone to, and the number of important issues he was turning over in his head. The end of his time at Hogwarts was drawing near, and the question of his future was nearing with it. He didn't have plans, post-graduation, however that wasn't a problem. It wasn't as though he needed money. The problem was the regular owls his father had been sending him; thinly veiled bribes to consider a life as a death-eater. Draco shook his head, trying to clear it. Although he had grown up surrounded by supporters of Voldemort, God, he had even been taught to use his name, he had no intention of joining them. He saw their cause as nothing more than pathetic hero worship, although he would never voice his opinion in front of his parents. His inheritance was already under threat, after his refusals of an arranged-marriage. That surprised even Draco. He had been raised under the impression that when he was old enough, his parents would select the daughter of another old wizarding family, and the two would be wed; no ifs, ands or buts.
The young Slytherin sighed. He wasn't sure what it was about the prospect of the arranged-marriage that he was so violently opposed to. He wasn't especially interested in love, or even sex for that matter. The whole idea was too messy, both physically and emotionally, for his liking. But what troubled him the most, was that his parents' involvement, he hesitated to refer to it as a relationship, was the product of such an arrangement. An agreement to participate would simply be another step towards truely being his father's son.
Draco sat back against the hard wood of the chair, and allowed his mind to wander. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar Gryffindor back, over the other side of the room. Hermione had become almost a permanent fixture in the Hogwarts library from day one. Draco didn't much care for her, but even he had to admit that she was rather a brilliant student. She was alone, as she usually was in the library, the only place she ever seemed to be alone. Normally, she was rarely seen outside the company of Harry and that little bastard, Weasley. At the thought of Harry, Draco's mind gave a slight jolt. There was something about him that fascinated Draco. He was no longer jelous of the Gryffindor, and the pair had assumed a cold distance from each other, rather than the white-hot hatred of earlier years.
He toyed with the idea of approaching Hermione, asking after Harry, but quickly decided against it. She, like so many others, detested Draco, and would enquire as to why he was asking. What could he tell her? He didn't know, himself. Why did he care? He gathered up his books, and quickly left the library, in search of asprin.