Ahha! A disclaimer! Well, lalalala I dont own any Harry Potter stuff. Except a blanket my Mom gave me. And the books. Well, you know what I mean by that. And I make no money from this, blah blah blah, I make no money from anything. Thats why I have time to write fanfic. Although this is my first story so be nice to me... please???
Also I had so much help from Jenn! She has her own ff.net account. Her pen name is casper. You should go read her story.
It was Draco Malfoys seventh year at Hogwarts. He leaned back, looking out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. The view was the same as it had been every year, it was the people viewing it that had changed.
The whole world had changed. Voldemort had regained power. The Ministry of Magic had fallen apart and more and more wizards turned to the dark arts or were destroyed. Muggleborns had all but disappeared from most of the wizarding schools. Many had disappeared from Hogwarts as well, but the train felt almost crowded. Granger was still around, but no one knew how long that would last.
Dumbledore had been killed. McGonagall was now Headmistress of the school, and Snape had become the Defense against Dark Arts teacher he had so wanted to be. Potter lived his life in the spotlight, as usual, openly contemptuous of the Dark Lord's attempts on his life.
Draco sighed out of boredom, peering out the window for the first view of the castle. His compartment had only a couple of first years in it, who seemed almost terrified of him. The Malfoys were more infamous than ever.
It was an immense relief when he finally did see the castle. He couldn't wait to get off the train, honestly. It wasn't that he was all that happy to be back at Hogwarts. He just wanted to get the year over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.
When the train had pulled to a stop, Draco stood to get his cloak and robe. He glared at one of the first years, who practically whimpered in fright. The trip to the main hall seemed much shorter than it had in past years, especially compared to the first year, when they had had to cross the lake in boats.
He didn't want to think about the past anymore. Life in the present was good enough for him, and the future would be even better, he thought.
He spotted Potter ahead, surrounded by his throng of fans, and, of course, the weasel and his star-struck little sister, and Granger. She made him sick to his stomach. Out of everything that was going on, Voldemort's revival, muggle slayings and tortures, chaos and corruption around every corner; she still came back to Hogwarts. Why she had come back, he didn't know, and frankly, he didn't really even care. She intrigued him, though, in a way he had never thought possible, yet he didn't want to spend time worrying about it, Potter would always be there to get her out of any trouble she might be in. He watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing lightheartedly at something the amazing wonder boy had said. She adored Potter, as did many others. He had always been adored, probably always would be. "All because of a stupid scar on his forehead." Draco thought bitterly.
Potter wasn't the only one with scars. But he was the famous one, the hero. The one who had survived Voldemort thus far, the one who everyone thought would defeat him in the end. But Draco knew better. It was only luck that had allowed Potter to survive, luck and the sacrifices of others. The Wonder Boy seemed to not notice this, though.
A girl grabbed Draco by the arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Pansy Parkinson, her golden eyes shining into his own. She stepped back and looked him up and down. "Well, you certainly have changed for the better, Draco. . ." She gave him a flirting gaze and flipped her long dark hair behind her back. "Where ever did you go, last year, anyway?"
She was in full flirt mode. Draco shrugged, walking into the main hall silently. It was none of her business where he'd been. Nothing that went on in his life was anyone's business but his own.
It took a few days to get reacquainted to the school. There was a new Potions Teacher, Professor Bane. He seemed to know just as much about potions as Snape had, perhaps more, but his lessons were not as challenging or entertaining as Snape's had been. He also very rarely awarded points to anyone, but he was, however, quick to take points away.
It was two weeks into the start of term that Draco had the first dream. He had gone to bed late, and exhausted.
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He was walking alongside the lake, searching ahead for a sight of someone. . .or something. The moon was shining down on him, indifferent to who he was or why he was there. He paused for a moment, looking out to the lake, silent and murky in the dark of the night. It was a bit like himself at that moment, for he had no words, yet his mind was convoluted with so many thoughts and painful memories.
He shuddered as a cool breeze violently lifted his hair off his neck. The wind whipped around him, wailing as it hit the lake, forcing ripples and tiny waves over the surface of the once still water. A storm was brewing, in more ways than one. Dark clouds drifted eerily over the moon, casting sinister shadows over the terrain and the castle that had been erected upon it.
In the depths of an particularly gloomy shadow, a cloaked figure stood soundlessly, unbeknownst to Draco. He watched mirthfully as the unsuspecting boy turned away from him, too enraptured in the mysteriousness of his surroundings. The cloaked figure smirked maliciously as he pulled out his wand silently, aiming it at his prey.
Draco turned as he heard a twig snap on the ground a few yards away. His mouth dropped in surprise as he saw what had made the sound. A man, whose face was hidden under the hood of his cloak, was stepping slowly towards him, a wand gripped tightly in his hand, pointing directly at him. Draco reached for his own wand, but he wasn't swift enough. He suddenly found himself on his back, staring into the sky, unable to move or even speak.
He heard the crunch of leaves being trampled over, the slow footfalls echoing dimly in his ears. He tried to turn his head to look, but it was to no avail. A slight whimpering sound reverberated softly in his throat as he sought to free himself from the hex. The hooded man crouched over him and let out a heinous laugh, causing a few birds in a nearby tree to awaken and fly off into the distance.
Draco watched the man in terror as he pointed his wand at him once again. There came a slight muttering sound and Draco felt himself being pulled up into the air, levitating a few feet off the ground. The man began walking towards the direction of Hogsmeade, and Draco, drifting quietly behind him, found himself wondering what exactly what was going on.
As they neared the boundaries of Hogwarts, Draco felt a slight tugging, an invisible force trying to pull him back in to the school, away from all things evil and corrupted. Yet the man in front of him seemed to be stronger, for Draco was still following behind him, unable to speak or move or even blink.
The hooded man stopped abruptly as soon as they were outside of the boundaries of Hogwarts. He turned smoothly around to face Draco, smiling disdainfully. A hand reached up to the hood, pulling it down. Draco would have gasped but, seeing as how he was bound by the hex, all he could do was stare in trepidation.
A long gleaming strand of hair so blond it was almost silver fell across the man's face as the hood unearthed the identity of his capturer.
Lucius.
Just the very name brought bile to Draco's throat. He watched fearfully as his father pointed his wand at him for the third time that night. He saw his mouth form a word, and he fell to the ground suddenly, sprawled out at the feet of the man who had brought him into the world.
Lucius let out an evil cackle staring at his son, eyes flashing with a loathing many do not get the unpleasantness to see. Draco, finding he had regained the ability to use his limbs, scrambled away from his father as quickly as he could, cutting his hand on a jagged rock that lay in the darkness of the cobblestone street. Lucius rushed towards him, and clenched him by the arm with his hand, staring at him with contempt.
In an instant the two found themselves in a completely different place: stumbling over train tracks in the midst of the dense foliage of the woods that the Hogwarts Express traveled through every year in destination to Hogsmeade. Draco looked at his father in horror. What was about to happen?
A train horn sounded faintly in the distance, and Lucius smiled murderously at his son. Once again, he raised his arm, with wand in hand, and put Draco in another full body bind before the boy had the chance to say anything at all. He fell hard, the back of his head smacking loudly on the metal of the tracks, darkness falling over him within a minute's time.
A horn rang out suddenly, startling Draco's unconscious state, coercing him awake. He realized he was able to move again, only slightly. He lifted his head, looking for the reason why he couldn't move as much he knew he was able to.
Ropes crossed over him tightly, binding him still. The train whistled its horn again. Draco turned his head and saw it coming around the bend. It was then when he realized he was tied down to the tracks. He struggled desperately at the ropes, trying to free himself before he was mutilated.
The deafening roar of the train rumbled through the ground, reverberating through Draco, causing his heart to beat in time with the vibrations. His fingers clawed at the ropes, only causing himself more cuts and rope burns, rather than freedom. The rumbling grew louder, and Draco turned his head toward the train again, his face paler than it ever had been, sweat beading down his forhead, dripping into his hairline. The train was no more than 30 feet from him, and getting closer by the second.
Twenty feet.
Ten feet.
One foot.
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Draco sat up in his bed suddenly, sopping with sweat, shoulders heaving in time with his breathing, which was coming out in short, ragged pants, hardly classified as breaths at all.
Also I had so much help from Jenn! She has her own ff.net account. Her pen name is casper. You should go read her story.
It was Draco Malfoys seventh year at Hogwarts. He leaned back, looking out of the window of the Hogwarts Express. The view was the same as it had been every year, it was the people viewing it that had changed.
The whole world had changed. Voldemort had regained power. The Ministry of Magic had fallen apart and more and more wizards turned to the dark arts or were destroyed. Muggleborns had all but disappeared from most of the wizarding schools. Many had disappeared from Hogwarts as well, but the train felt almost crowded. Granger was still around, but no one knew how long that would last.
Dumbledore had been killed. McGonagall was now Headmistress of the school, and Snape had become the Defense against Dark Arts teacher he had so wanted to be. Potter lived his life in the spotlight, as usual, openly contemptuous of the Dark Lord's attempts on his life.
Draco sighed out of boredom, peering out the window for the first view of the castle. His compartment had only a couple of first years in it, who seemed almost terrified of him. The Malfoys were more infamous than ever.
It was an immense relief when he finally did see the castle. He couldn't wait to get off the train, honestly. It wasn't that he was all that happy to be back at Hogwarts. He just wanted to get the year over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.
When the train had pulled to a stop, Draco stood to get his cloak and robe. He glared at one of the first years, who practically whimpered in fright. The trip to the main hall seemed much shorter than it had in past years, especially compared to the first year, when they had had to cross the lake in boats.
He didn't want to think about the past anymore. Life in the present was good enough for him, and the future would be even better, he thought.
He spotted Potter ahead, surrounded by his throng of fans, and, of course, the weasel and his star-struck little sister, and Granger. She made him sick to his stomach. Out of everything that was going on, Voldemort's revival, muggle slayings and tortures, chaos and corruption around every corner; she still came back to Hogwarts. Why she had come back, he didn't know, and frankly, he didn't really even care. She intrigued him, though, in a way he had never thought possible, yet he didn't want to spend time worrying about it, Potter would always be there to get her out of any trouble she might be in. He watched as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, laughing lightheartedly at something the amazing wonder boy had said. She adored Potter, as did many others. He had always been adored, probably always would be. "All because of a stupid scar on his forehead." Draco thought bitterly.
Potter wasn't the only one with scars. But he was the famous one, the hero. The one who had survived Voldemort thus far, the one who everyone thought would defeat him in the end. But Draco knew better. It was only luck that had allowed Potter to survive, luck and the sacrifices of others. The Wonder Boy seemed to not notice this, though.
A girl grabbed Draco by the arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. It was Pansy Parkinson, her golden eyes shining into his own. She stepped back and looked him up and down. "Well, you certainly have changed for the better, Draco. . ." She gave him a flirting gaze and flipped her long dark hair behind her back. "Where ever did you go, last year, anyway?"
She was in full flirt mode. Draco shrugged, walking into the main hall silently. It was none of her business where he'd been. Nothing that went on in his life was anyone's business but his own.
It took a few days to get reacquainted to the school. There was a new Potions Teacher, Professor Bane. He seemed to know just as much about potions as Snape had, perhaps more, but his lessons were not as challenging or entertaining as Snape's had been. He also very rarely awarded points to anyone, but he was, however, quick to take points away.
It was two weeks into the start of term that Draco had the first dream. He had gone to bed late, and exhausted.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
He was walking alongside the lake, searching ahead for a sight of someone. . .or something. The moon was shining down on him, indifferent to who he was or why he was there. He paused for a moment, looking out to the lake, silent and murky in the dark of the night. It was a bit like himself at that moment, for he had no words, yet his mind was convoluted with so many thoughts and painful memories.
He shuddered as a cool breeze violently lifted his hair off his neck. The wind whipped around him, wailing as it hit the lake, forcing ripples and tiny waves over the surface of the once still water. A storm was brewing, in more ways than one. Dark clouds drifted eerily over the moon, casting sinister shadows over the terrain and the castle that had been erected upon it.
In the depths of an particularly gloomy shadow, a cloaked figure stood soundlessly, unbeknownst to Draco. He watched mirthfully as the unsuspecting boy turned away from him, too enraptured in the mysteriousness of his surroundings. The cloaked figure smirked maliciously as he pulled out his wand silently, aiming it at his prey.
Draco turned as he heard a twig snap on the ground a few yards away. His mouth dropped in surprise as he saw what had made the sound. A man, whose face was hidden under the hood of his cloak, was stepping slowly towards him, a wand gripped tightly in his hand, pointing directly at him. Draco reached for his own wand, but he wasn't swift enough. He suddenly found himself on his back, staring into the sky, unable to move or even speak.
He heard the crunch of leaves being trampled over, the slow footfalls echoing dimly in his ears. He tried to turn his head to look, but it was to no avail. A slight whimpering sound reverberated softly in his throat as he sought to free himself from the hex. The hooded man crouched over him and let out a heinous laugh, causing a few birds in a nearby tree to awaken and fly off into the distance.
Draco watched the man in terror as he pointed his wand at him once again. There came a slight muttering sound and Draco felt himself being pulled up into the air, levitating a few feet off the ground. The man began walking towards the direction of Hogsmeade, and Draco, drifting quietly behind him, found himself wondering what exactly what was going on.
As they neared the boundaries of Hogwarts, Draco felt a slight tugging, an invisible force trying to pull him back in to the school, away from all things evil and corrupted. Yet the man in front of him seemed to be stronger, for Draco was still following behind him, unable to speak or move or even blink.
The hooded man stopped abruptly as soon as they were outside of the boundaries of Hogwarts. He turned smoothly around to face Draco, smiling disdainfully. A hand reached up to the hood, pulling it down. Draco would have gasped but, seeing as how he was bound by the hex, all he could do was stare in trepidation.
A long gleaming strand of hair so blond it was almost silver fell across the man's face as the hood unearthed the identity of his capturer.
Lucius.
Just the very name brought bile to Draco's throat. He watched fearfully as his father pointed his wand at him for the third time that night. He saw his mouth form a word, and he fell to the ground suddenly, sprawled out at the feet of the man who had brought him into the world.
Lucius let out an evil cackle staring at his son, eyes flashing with a loathing many do not get the unpleasantness to see. Draco, finding he had regained the ability to use his limbs, scrambled away from his father as quickly as he could, cutting his hand on a jagged rock that lay in the darkness of the cobblestone street. Lucius rushed towards him, and clenched him by the arm with his hand, staring at him with contempt.
In an instant the two found themselves in a completely different place: stumbling over train tracks in the midst of the dense foliage of the woods that the Hogwarts Express traveled through every year in destination to Hogsmeade. Draco looked at his father in horror. What was about to happen?
A train horn sounded faintly in the distance, and Lucius smiled murderously at his son. Once again, he raised his arm, with wand in hand, and put Draco in another full body bind before the boy had the chance to say anything at all. He fell hard, the back of his head smacking loudly on the metal of the tracks, darkness falling over him within a minute's time.
A horn rang out suddenly, startling Draco's unconscious state, coercing him awake. He realized he was able to move again, only slightly. He lifted his head, looking for the reason why he couldn't move as much he knew he was able to.
Ropes crossed over him tightly, binding him still. The train whistled its horn again. Draco turned his head and saw it coming around the bend. It was then when he realized he was tied down to the tracks. He struggled desperately at the ropes, trying to free himself before he was mutilated.
The deafening roar of the train rumbled through the ground, reverberating through Draco, causing his heart to beat in time with the vibrations. His fingers clawed at the ropes, only causing himself more cuts and rope burns, rather than freedom. The rumbling grew louder, and Draco turned his head toward the train again, his face paler than it ever had been, sweat beading down his forhead, dripping into his hairline. The train was no more than 30 feet from him, and getting closer by the second.
Twenty feet.
Ten feet.
One foot.
-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-
Draco sat up in his bed suddenly, sopping with sweat, shoulders heaving in time with his breathing, which was coming out in short, ragged pants, hardly classified as breaths at all.