A/N: ah, and now the question you're probably all thinking is, "Did he sleep with her?" Well, your pondering is about to end – or is it? I'm afraid not. Having not written this chapter yet I cannot confirm the previous sentence – I can however tell you that my plans for this chapter do confirm the sentence. In other words, HA HA! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO FIND OUT TILL THE NEXT CHAPTER! :P Having said that you may be able to guess anyway, lol. REVIEW ~rowanx
Ghost Of The Robot – you think I know anything about all the hints and unanswered questions in this story?! …well, I do kind of, lol, but what makes you think you'll ever find out!! :P "Does Draco sleep with the slut Pansy?" GOTR, maybe your question should be, "Does Pansy sleep with the pervert Draco?"
Snako – I'd be curious to know exactly which part of my story you found "fun" lol
Mistal:Abyss, Water Fairy – and your wish for another chapter has been fulfilled. :D
One-Winged Angel – Draco still is cool! Of course he is! No one can resist temptation, that's why it's called temptation, doy!!!! Lol. Anyway, who's to say he'll sleep with her? MWAHAHA.
Treachery89 – lol, a hundred virtual exclamation marks – how sweet!!
(if you reviewed the last chapter recently and I didn't mention you, then sorry, but I thank you now! :D )
A/N: ok, so I've just written this chapter and actually, it does tell you between the lines type stylee whether draco slept with her or not, BUT, it doesn't officially announce it or anything, so be prepared for any surprises my mind concocts up for the next chapter! Mwahaha… I hope you like this non-actiony, thoughts-and-explanations chapter that you're either about to read or about to run away from screaming boredom and pink fairies (warning: there are pink fairies). ~rowanx (oh yeah, REVIEW)
Chapter five – Malfoys aren't so great
Whenever I dream I'm always haunted by memories of my father. I don't know why. They say dreams are short captions of an emotion exploded into a world of fantasy. I guess that's the only way to explain my father getting tortured by rather amusing little pink fairies while I stand in a gleam of red and black, laughing, people praising me all around for my greatness. Praising me – not him. All my life people have worshipped and loved my father. They would be willing to give their lives up for him. Why, I've never fully understood. But I always wanted to be just like him. I wanted the power that he has. At first, it was pure admiration and respect. Then it turned into envy. Then of course came the jealousy and hate. I hated my father. More than I hated anything else, I wanted him gone, and I wanted to take his place. I hated him more for being everything I wanted than for beating me. I could take the beatings. I couldn't take the fact that he was worshipped, and I wasn't.
Of course, I was young. I didn't know anything. I soon came to realise that people don't respect my father. They fear him. They wouldn't give up their lives for him because they loved him, but because they knew he would kill them if they didn't. Strange, I know.
The summer before my third year at Hogwarts, we had a visitor. Voldemort. What, you think Potter's the only one who can say his name without flinching? Voldemort stayed at our house, plotting things with my father, who became very testy, taking it out particularly on me. If I breathed too loudly, he belted me. Especially if I did it around "our guest". He put the crucio curse on me once for leaving the table without asking to be excused.
Respect is what my father lives on. He knows nothing else.
I used to do exactly what he said, even if I knew it was stupid or wrong.
Oh, don't look so surprised. Yes, I do have morals, ok? Is it so surprising that I'm a human being?
That first day on the train, when I offered Potter my hand and he didn't take it, I was furious. How dare he not accept the friendship of a Malfoy. But over the years I started to realise exactly why he refused my hand. Exactly why I am trying my hardest to refuse Voldemort's, and to refuse the commands of my father.
Malfoys aren't great. We are fucked up. We go around thinking we're better than anyone else, and kill those who disagree. What a messed up way to live.
So I started to pretend I wasn't a Malfoy. I pretended that had no link to the people I lived with and made polite conversation with at my father's parties. When my father told me that Voldemort had most kindly said I could join him, I said no. I didn't have to do what he told me anymore, because he was no longer my father. Even if it did mean my cuts and bruises stung for about a week and my neck was broken in several different places, I refused to have any of it magically healed. I wanted to show Lucius that he had no control over me and that I would take the consequences and not give a shit about them.
I was free.
Well, as free as I can get with the bastard I live with.
Of course, the beatings and the pain only grow more every time I go home.
Before, I said I did not know why I'm going home this Christmas.
I'm going home, not just for my mother, but because I want to show Lucius that I'm not afraid of him.
I don't have to do what he says.
I don't have to do what he wants.
I can do whatever the hell I want to do.
But I can also do whatever I don't want to do. Why? Because I'm in control. Because I have morals, and mostly, because I hate Lucius – I will prove that I am not like him.
What Pansy said about me being a virgin was true.
Father's always said females are nothing, and we should use them how we like.
I used to think that too.
Until I changed.
I'm a virgin because I believe that father is wrong.
So did I sleep with Pansy?
I really did want to. I still do. I want to sleep with her.
But I hate my father more.
