Bound
By: Angel Of Music

Chapter Two: The Fate of Heredity

Damned mudblood Granger. Always meddling in his affairs. She had destroyed his plans. Demolished his hopes. Killed his only escape from exile. Saved his life. Draco ran a hand through his flawless hair and grunted. Only a true no-blood would have such nerve. Oh, how her detested her. The very essence that was her. Her nasty, straggled hair, her strange, darting eyes, the way she moved and the way she talked; God! It was like having an itch that one just cannot scratch! He shook his head and wrapped his cloak tightly around his torso. It was always so algid in the castle near dawn. Draco sighed softly and cocked his head toward a window where a small portion of light was pooling through unto the opposing wall. He leaned his arm against the ray, trying deeply to digest it's warmth, and shut his eyes.

*I am supposed to meet him. This coming evening. I can't take it. I can't take seeing that face...* He dwindled in his mind's thought for a brief moment. Then, with a blinding flash of the cruel face that he dreaded retaining, he snapped his eyelids open again, and flung himself off of the wall. He stared out the window shakily, trying desperately to block the image from entering his thoughts again. The sun crept hastily over the trees that overpowered Hogwart's grounds, as if peering from a faultered dream. Draco gazed softly at it for a succulent minute, then with a swish of his cloak, departed.
* * *

He could not sleep. He kept shifting back and forth, trying to adjust his comfort. Attempting to block the loud, gasping snores coming from the bed beside him, he shut the curtains to the four-poster bed that was Vincent Crabbe's. He exhaled tiredly, then sat upon his own mattress. Leaning furtively over toward his night stand, he picked up from it a small, dragon-hide folder. It was simple but attractive, from the brass buttons that held it shut to the intricate stitching. Draco snapped open the buttons carefully, praying that the loud clicks would not awake any of his roomates. As it opened, he hesitated, then shoved his hand into its potent pocket. His fingers clasped upon the only item in the folder; a letter. He pulled it out slowly and balanced it on his fingertips for a moment before opening it. As he did so, he fixed his eyes on the writing:

Draco,
You refuse to comply with Lord Voldemort? Direct orders, nonetheless! Boy, you've worked yourself into quite a mess. QUITE a mess. I have owled you five times with that request. Voldemort wants you to join us. You know that he wants another Malfoy. A descendant. An assistant to my talent, if you will. Now, Draco, since you have refused this- generous offer so many a time, I have arranged to meet with you at 7:00 on the evening of December the Third. You will meet me in the highest astronomy tower. I don't care of your means of getting there, just do it. If you do not, boy, I can assure you that there will be more of a surprise in store than another letter...
-Lucius

Draco sighed as he shoved the letter hastily back into it's pouch. Join Voldemort. It had always been his dream. His reason for cruelty. He had always wanted to be like his father. Like the man he for so long wish to resemble. But times changed; people changed. Lord Voldemort was growing stronger and obtaining an even more vast army of men. If Draco joined- if he agreed to be a part of it all- his life as he knew it would be thrown away.

He couldn't tell his father this, of course. He'd be subjected to torture and verbal abuse. If he even coughed the word, 'no,' he'd be affiliated with the most unpleasant of results: his father. He feared him, admired him, loathed him. He was powerless to the man. And Draco did not like being powerless. And now he had Granger to thank for the self-pity and pain he'd put himself through. If he had killed himself; if he had made a quick, clean swipe, he'd have made things so much easier. Well, for him atleast. His father would be reprimanded, of course. Made a fool out of. Draco cackled at the thought.

But Hermione Granger kept returning to his mind. She was such an insolent fool; she had absolutely no care for others. Why couldn't she have just minded her own business? If she hated him so deeply, why did she save him? There were many question dancing throughout Draco's mind. He wanted her dead. He should've just done it right there in the library, then gone for himself. Then he would've had his way. He inhaled with a stifled breath and then stood. Flattening his robes, he placed the pouch back on the bedside table and softly opened the door that led to the common room. He was careful to be hushed, in the event of someone waking, as he stepped quietly down the churlish staircase that wound thoughtlessly down into a rocky, dank room. As he approached the dim firelight, he cast his eyes toward an emerald armchair thrown lazily upon the intricate serpant rug. He went to sit upon it, but the problem was, someone was already curled in it.

"Blaise!" Draco whispered fervently, checking to see if anyone else accompained her. She sat bolt upright as if she had not seen Draco there before.

"Whuddya want, Malfoy?" She asked curiosly, rubbing her eyes. "You startled me." She smiled and threw her long, auburn hair over her shoulder.

"I didn't know anyone was in here."

"Damn right. Likewise." Draco shook his head and smirked.

"Can I-" He motioned toward an identical armchair that sat near to Blaise's. She nodded silently as he pulled it closer to hers. After a brief pause, her sat upon it and shut his eyes. He hadn't told anyone about his father, and he was aching to confess. His mind swam with things that he could say, but he found no words. He was tacit, and he did not like the uncomfortable moments of silence that they were sharing. Blaise apparently did not care, for she went back to her ball-like sitting position and placed her head delicately against one of the arms.

"Hows your father?" She asked after a while. Draco opened his eyes and stared thoughfully at her. It was as if she could read his mind.

"I don't know. Don't care really." He muttered, wondering if she had seen him leave the common room earlier to go to the library.

"Aw, Draco, I thought you looked up to him-"

"I did, Blaise. At one time I did." He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. "But hes become scum. Unruly and sickening. I hate him more than I could ever think possible."

"Oh, c'mon, Malfoy. After all he's done for you? Brought you up, fed you, clothed you, bought you anything. Treated you like royalty. You owe him your consent, you know." Draco nodded sparsely and exhaled. "Besides," Blaise continued. "What can possibly be so bad about him?"

"I- I don't know." Draco admitted, trying to untangle the words that Blaise had just thrown at him. She was right, afterall. He did owe his father his presence in the cult of Death Eaters. "I just hope you know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I do. I do." She grinned and snuggled up comfortably against the armchair again, now displaying that she wished to get some sleep. "G'night, Malfoy."

"Night." He muttered, throwing his robes over him and heading back up to the dormatory.
* * *

The cold of the night air pressed tauntingly against Draco's cheeks, painting them a deep rose. He sniffed, and cocked his head for the slightest trace of his father. 6:55. Dinner had just been adjourned, and instead of the usual turn he made to get to his common room, he had swerved and cautiously found his way to the top of the highest astronmy tower. His legs ached from the climbing. Stair after stair after stair- it was a wonder he hadn't blacked out. He sighed and sat upon the frigid stone, peering up into the dark evening's sky and caressing the full moon with his eyes. He bent down and lied upon the rocky ground, hearing a distant howl from somewhere in the forbidden forest. He shivered and clicked his tongue. After a moment he was startled by a sudden crack from above him. He focused his vision and saw his father leaning dissaprovingly over him.

"Get up, you fool." He ordered, scoffing. "What are you doing on the ground, you filthy child? You'll dirty yourself." Draco stood and turned as his father dusted his back off.

"Apologies, father." He mumbled, frowning.

"Yes, of course you apologize. Stop groveling and tell me what you think of my letter. Are you going to agree, and come with Voldemort?" Draco shyed his head away.

"I- I suppose-"

"Speak up, son, so I can hear you good and clear." Draco looked up at his father and reminisced upon the times when he'd have done anything to be in this position. And now, what was he? He wanted to find the time to take a clear look at his pitiful, meaningless life. He wanted to know why he was destined to such a thing. He wanted to understand why heredity decided his fate. He bit his lower lip.

"I- yes." He whispered. Lucius shone a wide smirk at him, then placed his palm on his sons head and patted it.

"I knew you'd come around, boy." He retorted fatuously, nodding his head. "Knew my letter'd talk some sense into you." Draco said not a word, but stood rigid, feeling his weight upon the ground. It was hard to stand; his knees were oscillating visibly. "I'll send you word of when Lord Voldemort's next meeting is. He is planning an attack on a few mudbloods in London: he wants you there. He'll give you the...initiation." Lucius's fowl grin broadened. Draco remained silent. "Haven't you any curiosity as to what goes on in those meetings? What the initiation is like?" He wanted to say no, but thought better of it.

"I do." He said curtly.

"Yes, well you'll have to find out, won't you? All I can say is that I'm sure you'll find interest there, even if the process of becoming a true death eater is, to put it simply, painful." His face was almost collapsing in the wide, evil smile he was showing.

"P-painful?" Draco whimpered.

"Oh, well you thought it might not be? You know how awesome the power of our Lord is, I thought that you'd be smarter. Although with your current grades, I should have known better-" He sighed and leaned his chin on the back of his hand. Draco scoffed and brushed a hand through the tender night air.

"Of course, how insolent of me."

"VERY insolent, boy." Lucius responded, spitting. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Minister of Magic, that muggle-loving twit. Trying to get information on his whereabouts in a few weeks. Voldemort sees him as one of our next targets." And with a crack and a distant shimmer, he was gone.

"Call me ignorant, I'll show you..." Draco mumbled as he made his way back to the Slytherin common room. "I'll teach you to mess with a Malfoy. Parseltongue." He barked at the stone wall which led to the dungeons. The wall slid open and he stepped inside.

As he stumbled down the last few steps, he hurled himself over to the arm chairs toppled into one.

"Back a little late?" Came a ragged, mocking voice. Draco looked up.

"Blaise." He ackowlged, nodding.

"Library?"

"Uh, yeah. Researched for that damned Transfiguration project. Professor McGonagall is such a-"

"I know." She responded, smiling softly. "I was just there. Funny, I don't remember seeing you."

"How, er, strange. You know, I'm a little tired. I'm going to go to bed and-" But just as he stood to leave, Blaise reached a hand into her robes and pulled out her wand. Pointing it at Draco, she exclaimed,

"I know where you were, Draco. You don't have to lie to me." He looked at her curiously.

"How?" He questioned shortly. Blaise laughed.

"You think that you boys are the only ones who mess up the other gender's dorms while their away? Well you're horribly wrong..." Her smile faded slowly. "I found your letter. I didn't know things were getting so serious, Draco. Why didn't you tell me?" He bowed his head. Blaise was just another thing he had on his list of problems. They had been friends ever since they were children; since before they were able walk or talk. Draco had always found her strangely intriuging, yet oddly distant. But he felt that he was being unfair to her by not telling about his destiny. He couldn't live that way. So the heartless Draco Malfoy did have some warmth peirced into the frost. Draco swiped a stray hair out of his eye and replied,

"I just couldn't. Father said if anyone found out, even a Slytherin-"

"Since when did that ever stop you?" Blaise interrupted. Draco frowned an continued.

"He doesn't like the fact that your parents betrayed Lord Voldemort. He despises you, and despises me for not feeling the same way he does. I told him that your parents cannot decide the path that you take. But does he listen? No. So I couldn't tell. If you found out, he said, He'd have to deal with me. I don't want that again, Blaise." She nodded and put her wand down.

"Its okay." She responded slowly. "I just wonder how you can cope with all of this."

"I really can't, thats the thing." Blaise paused for a moment, then pocketed her wand. After a minute of thought, she said playfully,

"C'mon, Malfoy, lets go taunt some Gryffindors in the library. All for say I."
Draco stood, stretching and stated,

"I."
* * *