Disclaimer: Are you supposed to do this on every chapter? Shit, this is SOOOO dumb. Ok, so I'll do this now counting for all up and coming chapters, ok? I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER!!! SO ALL LAWYERS CAN FUCK OFF. :P

Author's Note: Wow, I got seven reviews! That's quite good methinks!! =) and in the same night/day that I uploaded it as well =) well, I'm writing this authors note before I go on to the chapter (why? No idea) so I dunno what it's going to be like or whether you'll like it or not but I hope u do!! =) REVIEW! ~rowanx

Chapter two – Fear Leads to Power, Love Leads to Death

"Mr Malfoy, you're awake!" Madam Pomfrey hurries over to me. She smiles; something she does not often do around an arrogant git like myself. "And how are you feeling?" she asks.

I simply nod in reply, not caring what answer she takes this as. I wonder at the level of pretence in her smile. I expect she feels sorry for me. No doubt she knows I tried to end my life. She feels sympathy for me, nothing more. No one feels anything more for me.

"Mr Potter brought you in last night," Pomfrey says as she tries to tidy up around me and fluffs my pillow – as if I'm going to be in here a long time. I nod again. "He told me of the little accident you had." This at last captures my attention. Pomfrey then became the usual stern nurse I've always known her to be. "Goodness knows what you and Potter were thinking – playing around with knifes like that, betting on who could hold on to their knife longer without the skin bursting I mean really." My heart skips a beat. "I alerted Professor Dumbledore, of course, and he says ten house points are to be deducted from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for such foolishness. You could have been killed." Pomfrey takes my hand in her own. I wince at the touch. She looks it over – the marks from the knife are still there, and I swear the skin looks darker stained from the blood. "Well," she says, "I supposed you'll do. But first, a good old muggle bandage."

My Malfoy instinct returns to me. "A bandage?" I scorn. "What do I need a bandage for? Can't you use magic?"

Pomfrey raises her eyebrows at me. "Not to heal the ache or the stain, Mr Malfoy, no." She finds a long piece of cream material and starts wrapping it around my hand. I do not quite understand it. Why is she wrapping a piece of material around my hand as though it will suddenly feel better? What ludicrous ideas muggles have.

At last I am allowed to go. I change and leave the hospital wing quickly, thoughts jumping around in my mind. Potter lied? Potter lied – for me – even if it got himself into trouble – even if he could have everyone knowing what I obviously don't want people to know? I frown in confusion. Was it just me, or had something changed without me knowing? Had the rules changed? No – the rules between me and Potter have always been quite simple. We do whatever we know the other will hate, and we'll try and embarrass the other as much as possible whilst doing it. I have never helped Potter nor ever wanted to; and until last night neither has he helped me.

I lift my left hand and run my fingers along the bandage. Suddenly I start ripping it off. I need to see the cuts, the scratches, the wounds. Pomfrey for some reason didn't let me see it before it was wrapped up hidden away in this bandage. Finally the material unwraps itself and falls to the floor. I wince in agony as I see the mess I have created on my own flesh. Deep and sharp cuts run along my hand in dark red lines. There is one in particular from the side of my hand to just above the thumb, and another running along my fingers. I open my hand slowly and almost cry out in pain. Surely Pomfrey could have casted a spell to make this heal quicker? Maybe she just hates me. Wait, what am I saying, of course she hates me. I'm a pompous arrogant git. Who doesn't hate me? Even I hate me… And now I have the scars to prove that.

I lower my hand as I reach the dungeons. I go down into them and into my common room. I have a shower and change into fresh clothes, before slowly making my way down to the Great Hall. From my watch I know that they will not yet have finished breakfast.

Pausing at the doors of the Great Hall, I open one and slip inside, hurrying over to the Slytherin table, hoping against hope that a certain Gryffindor boy will not see me. But even as I keep my eyes to the floor I can feel his gaze upon me. I sit down in between Crabbe and Goyle and try hard not to look up. "Where have you been?" asks Crabbe.

"None of your business," I answer shortly.

"Ok," says Goyle, and the two quickly hurry back to their food. I sigh in annoyance. Even Crabbe and Goyle hate me – it is obvious. They stay by my side only because their fathers make them. Everyone wants in on the goods to Lucius Malfoy's son.

Suddenly, I laugh aloud, causing a few Slytherins to stare at me. I'm crazy. Why the hell am I sitting here feeling sorry for myself? I'm Draco Malfoy. So what if people hate me? Besides, they don't hate me, they fear me. Fear leads to power. Love leads to death. That's what father always taught me. In whatever ways he thought necessary…

I block out that annoying side of me that knows I am lying to myself – that's the side of me that nearly commited suicide last night. But no, I'm not going to listen to it. I'm not that stupid. Not that weak.

I finish my small slice of toast and stand. Crabbe and Goyle do the same, even though it is clear they have not yet finished their large breakfasts. They follow me as I walk out of the hall and slowly go to Herbology. Still I refuse to let my mind think on the person linked to the green eyes that I know are following my every move.