A/N: Sorry this took so long. There isn't really a reason for the delay, but here's chapter two. Feel free to read and review. Questions, comments are always welcome.

Chapter two

Once he had finally been dropped off by his father Draco found an empty compartment and settled down to wait out the long ride back to school.  His father's recent lecture had left him feeling open.  Full of thoughts and he oddly wondered if he could change. If he could become a real person at all or if he'd be stuck as the lifeless copy of Lucius Malfoy - with honor and glory, and yet none at all. Could he replace the decay that his father had caused inside him? Could he become flesh?  His own person instead of this carbon copy of someone else.  Doing what he's told with no questions.

He had always been told that a Malfoy bows before no one but he always scrapped his knees for his father.  Could he change?  Or was he stuck in this mask that he was starting to hate.  Draco was left wondering just who he really was.  Everything his father had ever told him seemed like nonsense now that he was growing up into a man.  Isn't a man suppose to leave his father behind when he grows older?  Isn't he suppose to find his own way, be his own person.  Have his own thoughts.  Did every parent treat their child like his?  He didn't think so.

Looking out the windown he noticed Weasley and his family, the sneer an automatic response to years of conditioning by his father.  If he hadn't known that he was suppse to hate this family he would have been jealous of how the mother was hugging her children, obvious in her love and worry for them.  The father, standing slightly behind and away protecting his family, keeping them safe but still letting his children know that he loved them.  Draco snorted, his family was nothing like that.  His father saw him off every year, but only as far as the train.  He never left the carrage and was gone before Draco could step clear of it.  If Draco hadn't already hated Ron Weasley he would know, he hated being jealous of someone else.

Every day was like every other day.  Same routine, same lines, same people playing a part and he was growing tired of it.  Tired of not knowing who he was, what he was, where he was meant to go. Of course his father knew where he was meant to go. But did he really want to go in that direction? A path that only an insane person would follow, a Psycho-path. A path made up of lies, greed, hate, and blood. Lies, of course, was the structure. The part that held up everything else, kept it balanced and strong. The lies were his only truth sometimes.

Before Draco could fall further down into his thoughts the door slid open and Draco's mouth flowed back into the well worn sneer.  "Hello Weasley," that sweet honey voice that only a Malfoy could pull off.  A voice that screams out its disdain for all others.  Draco spoke to everyone in this voice, but Weasely was the only one that reacted to it so well. However, this day, he pretended to not hear Ron's unwitty come back and instead looked back out the window, not noticing the surprised look on Ronald Weasley's face or the emerald gaze of confusion that could only be Harry's. Instead he pondered on how the hell he could find himself. It was like he was reading off a script, the author Lucius Malfoy, played out in the Dark Ampitheatre. It took him so much just to ignore Weasley and turn away. Bad habits are hard to break but they can be, and Draco was determined to break his into tiny little pieces.

"What's wrong Ferret?  Miss your daddy?" Weasley's tone was one of scorn, full of hatred and pain but Draco didn't care.  Which shocked him to realize.  He didn't care about Weasley.  Ronald Weasley had no meaning in Draco's life, Draco had no personal grudge against the boy.  Draco had always just repeated what he heard his father say, 'Weasley's are nothing... low born idiots.  Disgrace to the name of pure blood wizards...' and on and on until all Draco could hear was scorn and his father's mocking laugh as he told Draco how he held Weasley Senior from advancing in his job.  All the little spitful things his father did, and Draco realized that he was doing the same.  Then he realized that it wasn't something he really wanted to do. 

Coming up with new ways to insult the other boy, new ways to put him down, get him in trouble when nine times out of ten he ended up in trouble as well.  What was the point?  Why did he waste so much time on this other boy?  Why did he waste his time at all? So much of his time was consumed by hate, by this thing he called living like a Malfoy. Maybe he didn't want to be a Malfoy. He just wanted to be himself if he could find out who he really was and maybe if he was lucky he'd like who he turned out to be.

Ron and Harry, surprised at Draco's lack of response, were easily shoved aside by Hermione who walked into the compartment like she owned it, her nose shoved in a book and oblivious to Draco's presence.  Harry and Ron could only stand were they had been shoved in wide eyed amazement as she settled herself into the seat opposite Draco book still open, eyes still moving across the words on the page, every now and then her mouth would move along with what she read and Draco was still ignored.

"Are you two gits going to sit down or what? I doubt Malfoy will bite you. Besides all the other compartments are full." she said without removing her face from between her book.

Ron coughed and Harry shrugged and they sat on either side of her. They stared, mercilessly, at Draco with much interest, waiting on him to react in some negative way. Draco, however, continued to ignore them.  The rest of the ride was made in virtual silence; Harry and Ron uncomfortable in their location, Hermione lost in her book, and Draco swimming in thoughts to deep to completely understand.