First chapter, short. I just wanted something up, I need some feed back..please?
A/N: Plot is mine, anything you recognize probably isn't.
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The Call
Draco Malfoy felt a chill start deep down in the marrow of his bones, finally causing him to shiver uncontrollably. His palms turned clammy as he tried to grip his broom tighter through his leather seeker gloves. His gaze became unfocussed as an onslaught of sensations overloaded his nerves. Unable to recognize this tangle of emotions, Draco Malfoy could only process pieces of it. The blind rage, dark triumph, and bloodlust seemed to fill his head, yet his soul recoiled and closed itself off in fear and anguish.
He had never felt so alive.
Draco's grip slipped, and he began to fall backwards off his broom. His eyes were closed as he felt cool air rushing past him, caressing his body. The call sounded again, stronger than before.
Make them bleed, let them beg for mercy, let the bodies hit the floor…
A small smile flitted across his face – oh yes, surrender had never felt so sweet: with this surrender came not a promise of power, no, a feeling of real power. It coursed through his veins at the speed of the wind whipping though his robes, and hair.
The whole of Hogwarts' population gasped, as the infamous Lucius Malfoy's son plummeted head first from his broom to certain death. However, it was the series of events that followed that made people's spirits flutter, and created a buzz in the hallways for weeks on end. Even though they had all seen it, no one in Hogwarts could exactly describe what, how or why this happened…except for maybe Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy themselves.
Roughly two minutes before Malfoy slipped from his broom, Ginny Weasley felt the most frightening sensation course through her: it seemed to stem from the essence of her body. The creeping darkness, the shifting shadow, the thirst for vengeance and the craving for violence-all feelings that lay dormant, awoken only by Tom. And yet, it wasn't him, not this time, for the deceivingly silken voice did not accompany this feeling. No, it was a call darker, more ferocious, and more primal than any she had ever experienced. Nerves tingling, eyes darting, and magic barely held at bay, Ginny Weasley was not foolish enough to think she could resist the will that beckoned her.
Her eyes were unfocused as she stood abruptly, jostling her friends, and walked stiffly down the aisle to the Quidditch pitch; the call drowned out her friends' questioning voices. A few steps before the banister, she looked up unseeing at the oddly slowly moving figure of Draco Malfoy. Ginny felt his surge of power, and how it was now mirrored in her own body. She jumped over the banister, and landed feet first on the turf of the field. She would later realize that she had several broken bones in each foot. The Malfoy was leaning back on his broom, fifty meters above the field; Weasley began to run. No one took notice of the girl sprinting across the field as Draco fell backwards off his broom in a head first plunge.
Only when they saw his fall slow down, did they notice the girl with brilliant red hair with her arms extended above her head and her mouth open in a silent scream directly bellow him. He slowly descended, till his body was at her eye level.
"Malfoy, your powers are of no use to us if you are dead." The youngest Weasley, Draco noted as he open his eyes to her monotone voice, and her flaming hair. Her eyes were expressionless, and right now, two copies of them were swimming in his vision.
Before he succumbed to unconsciousness, his thoughts, completely incongruous in his situation shifted to how Slytherin-like the little Weasley's statement had been.
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Please tell me how you want this story to develop. I need some advice, before I pick the direction; there are many ways this story can go…
