Disclaimer: I don't own Draco, I don't own Hogwarts, etc., and my initials are not J.K. But I do own Autumn, so hands off or she'll sic her dark pool nightmares on ya. Read below for more info on side effects.

A.N.: Hey now, we've actually gotten to some Autumn/Draco action. I'm not quite sure if I would classify it as fluff, or dialogue… but it was fun to write ^_^

Muchos thanks to my beta, Jenni of serene-silence.net. If she hadn't done all the work she did, you wouldn't be reading this now. Not that you probably are anyway…

Chapter 2: In Which Draco Malfoy Falls into Black Pools

Draco Malfoy had been taught since he was very young that the only admirable traits in a female were that she were beautiful, smart (if not slightly crafty), and most importantly, of the purest wizard blood. Up until this point the only girls who had ever fit one of these traits had failed utterly in the other two. The smartest girl in the school, Hermione Granger, was to Malfoy repulsively ugly (this would have been disputed fiercely by a certain redheaded Gryffindor), though more repulsive was the fact that she was a mudblood, a half-breed, a muggle born. Pansy Parkinson was of pure wizard blood, yet her looks and intellect anyone would question. By his 5th year, Malfoy had decided that girls were worth nothing except their money and his family's approval. It seemed certain he would keep this opinion all his life.

On the first day of his 6th year at Hogwarts, Draco sauntered into the dining hall for dinner, followed closely by Crabbe and Goyle, who served more as bodyguards than friends. His icy silver eyes swept over the room, settling menacingly on a black-haired boy at the Gryffindor table.

"Let's say hello to our friend Mr. Potter, boys." He drawled with a slight smirk on his handsome face.

Harry Potter was excitedly conversing with Hermione and Ron. As Draco approached Harry's back, Hermione, who was opposite the unsuspecting Gryffindor, stopped talking abruptly and set her jaw.

"Beat it Malfoy." She spouted.

"Miss Granger, I was certain you had more manners than to tell me to, what was that awful muggle phrase again? Oh yes, beat it before I had a chance to say hello to Scarhead here. But I suppose those muggle parents of yours didn't teach you to respect other's feelings."

Draco folded his arms, threw his head back, and laughed cruelly. By this time Harry and Ron had stood up and turned around, each clenching their fists tightly at their sides.

"That's funny, I didn't think you had feelings. As a matter of fact, I was quite sure you didn't." Hermione quipped.

Draco leaned inward onto the table with a look of detestation. "Then you have your facts wrong, mudblood. That's a first, now isn't it?" he sneered spitefully.

Hermione's two friends had had enough. Harry and Ron lunged at Draco, and what happened afterwards was whispered about in common rooms until after the New Year. All of it happened in a swirl before Hermione's eyes, and it wasn't over until a growling Snape pulled the boys apart. Draco came out with a bloody nose and gash in his forehead. Ron sustained a black eye, and Harry complained of a headache and sore knuckles for a week afterwards. All together, 100 points were taken from each house and 30 hours of detention were to be put in on the parts of the three boys.

When Father hears about this...I could have at least won.

Draco glared furiously at Harry and Ron from across the hospital wing. Though in the back of his mind he marveled at how much pain the two Gryffindors had inflicted upon him, he was furious at having not won the brawl, nor even having had the chance to bring it to completion. His father never minded him fighting anyone, in fact Draco might have gone as far as to say that Lucius Malfoy encouraged conflict of any kind. But the youngest Malfoy could hear his Father's angry voice already ...

You insolent fool, how many times have I told you to never, never, NEVER let anyone shame you in such a way. You are a disgrace to the Malfoy name!

As he shuffled back inside the Slytherin common room that evening, he could almost feel his father's rock hard hand, seasoned by years worth of beatings, smashing against his head. Unknowingly, he winced. Immediately following, a head popped up over the back of a black and green chair.

"Hey. You okay?"

Draco stared straight ahead and cursed himself silently for not walking faster. He was not going to talk to a soul. But then again, perhaps talking to someone would make him feel better. Yes, he needed to insult someone horribly. Drawing himself up to his full and proper height, he swirled towards the speaker vengefully.

Nowthat was a bloody smart move.

His head throbbed painfully from the fast movement and he gripped the back of the occupied chair for support before bowing his head. Maybe he would forgo insulting for the night.

"Gosh, what happened to you?" came a girl's voice that to Draco was almost so clear and so melodious that it hurt him all the more. Whoever it was now stood right in front of him, so close he could feel her breath lightly on his neck. He continued to stare at the floor, breathing deep and long, and waiting for the pain to subside slightly. The girl repeated her first question again softly.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Shut up." Draco blurted. He raised his head angrily.

"Sorry."

But it wasn't a crass reply. It was the reply of someone who cared. And it came from a face Draco could have mistaken as his sister's, if he had had one. The girl had ghostly white skin, but somehow it glowed in the light of the fire nearby. Her face consisted of a seriously straight nose, delicate mouth, and platinum blonde hair that framed her face, falling in layers by her eyes. And her eyes. Draco had heard other boys talk about girls with beautiful eyes, he even thought he had known a few at times, but these were definitely the highlight of this girl's face. They were dark brown, so deep they were almost black; black pools of thought and beauty. They were shaped in a way that made Draco feel as though they were seeing into his very soul. They were fixed at this moment on his own stormy gray eyes, which seemed for a second to soften under their gaze.

But only for a second.

Draco had met girls like this before. The stupid, gawking, caring kind. She was nothing special. Why hadn't he seen her before, though? It made him furious to think that that idiot Dumbledore was letting stupid transfers in now without announcing their arrival. Especially transfers to Slytherin. Perhaps he had been too busy that day to notice her. Whatever the explanation, he now only wanted her to go away. To leave him alone to stare into the fire and decide what he was going to tell his Father.

But she didn't leave. She simply stood there with a look of sympathy on her face, an awkward sort of smile that portrayed pity.

Pity. I don't need pity, he wanted to scream. I'm a Malfoy, and Malfoys don't need pity.

But all that came out was a growl, and he stomped painfully away from the common room towards his dorm.

* * * * *

Draco awoke the next morning with deep bags under his eyes and the worst headache he'd had in years. He had barely slept at all the night before, the pain had been so fierce and unmerciful that sleep had eluded him. And when he had finally been able to sleep, his slumber had been riddled with dreams of horrible, dark, deep pools that wanted to swallow him up for all eternity.

Black pools of thought and beauty.

The girl. The eyes. Yes, idiotic gawking girl, he reminded himself, almost hoping she had only been part of his nightmares.

He cursed under his breath as he pushed his hair down on his head and got dressed. One look in the mirror confirmed what he had indeed already dreaded – he looked awful. Not only did he have a large red mark on his temple, but the left side of his nose was swollen and raw. He grabbed some hair gel and smashed it onto his head. No luck. It was to him the forewarning of a horrible day to come.

Crabbe and Goyle were still snoring loudly, with no appearance of awakening any time soon. Draco crawled down to the common room and darted his eyes around. No pale blonde to gawk at him this morning. Honestly, she had been worse than Moaning Myrtle. He settled himself in a chair by the fire and wondered what time it was. He tried to focus on what he would say to his Father; how he would say it; what he would look like; how the infamous Lucius Malfoy would react.

Father, there were two of them, and those dolts Crabbe and Goyle didn't do anything to help me. I was all alone.

All alone.

It suddenly occurred to Draco that that was exactly what he was. Alone. No one cared what happened to him. He supposed he could jump out a window, fall to the ground and crack his skull open, and no one would come to pick up his pieces or mourn his passing. No one would cry, except possibly his mother, if his father even let her find out that a Malfoy would do something as disgraceful as die. No one would have sympathy… or pity on him.

She simply stood with a look of sympathy on her face, an awkward sort of smile that portrayed pity.

Draco turned towards the fire and focused his eyes intently on the flickering flames of heat. He would never be what his father so desperately wanted him to become. What would he turn out to be then? A sniveling, slimy recluse, like Snape? Or perhaps dark, frightening, yet horribly stupid like Tom Riddle a.k.a. Voldemort. It then occurred to him that possibly Lucius Malfoy wanted Draco to be something he himself had never been able to achieve. Perhaps Draco would turn out like his Father. Now there was a frightening thought. So frightening, in fact, that it jolted Draco from his vigil and back into the common room, where Pansy Parkinson stood smirking at him.

"I heard you decided to have a little fun last evening."

Draco could tell by the look of thrilled amusement on her face that the previous night's events had already been passed around most of the school.

"By the way, love the new look, you could almost pass as Scarhead himself." She said in a nasal voice.

Draco realized that at any moment, people would be streaming down from their dorms, through the common room, and out to the dining hall. And they would see him. Like this.

Not like this.

Draco bolted up out of the chair, practically knocking down a giggling Pansy. At least he would be in the dining room before everyone else. He snatched his cloak on, and raced out of the Slytherin common room. He didn't even take his usual time to poke fun at the paintings or to try stepping on (more like through) Nearly Headless Nick's robe. Each step pounded in his head, and when he finally reached the dining hall, he was so exhausted he sat down and threw his head onto his arms. Thoughts and memories flooded his head furiously as students streamed in. Each snippet of conversation turned itself, in his mind, into a horrifying reminder of how miserable his life truly was.

"Beat it Malfoy."

I could have at least won.

You insolent fool!

His own gray eyes seemed for a second to soften under their gaze.

I was all alone.

No one cared what happened to him.

I was all alone.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had for certain disgraced his Father's name. It had not only been the previous day, but for his entire life.

And someone was going to pay.