This story has been written to explore the dark side of fan-fic, and add
some further spice to the giant cocktail of fics. It does contain adult
references, so if anything above a PG-13 rating offends you, please
discontinue reading now. If you keep on reading, either enjoy eagerly and
wickedly, or cover your eyes and hum in a deranged way. I don't like
reading abusive reviews. However, constructive criticism totally rocks my
world so feel free to type away, or just review with anything. How was your
weekend? .. Anyway, I'm jetting, enjoy, and send me any URLs to any funky
stories you know.
After Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius, was captured in fifth year, Draco's life was severely changed. Without his father, the man who had taught him every hatred he knew, Draco finally had the freedom to be himself. But how can he do this when he has never known anything but hate? Draco challenges everything he knows to find out who he really is, and with a little help from Hermione Granger, the one person he thought he'd always hate, he finds himself- and somewhere he belongs.
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Draco Malfoy's cold, pale hand slipped as it turned the wide metal doorknob to his room above the Three Broomsticks. Sighing, he wiped his sweaty palm along the length of his travelling cloak. Grasping the doorknob roughly, he pushed the door open then swore loudly as it swung back at him, bouncing back from the force the door hinges had to take. Disregarding any prior agreement with himself to be quiet and therefore unnoticeable, he barged into the room and dropped his Hogwarts trunk and broom onto the raw wooden floor. Draco sighed yet again as he hesitated, then closed the door softly, quietly walking around his things before collapsing on the bed at the far end of the room. Even though he was somewhere he had never been before, without the rich comforts his home had to offer, he slept deeper and more peacefully then he had in many weeks.
The next morning Draco woke to a constant sharp tapping noise. Even through the groggy morning haze, he knew what the noise was. Pushing himself out of bed, still fully dressed in his travelling gear, he forced the thick glass window open. His large Eagle owl swooped silently into the room and perched on the single dresser. Holding out its leg, it whistled softly to its owner. Draco took the rolled up parchment from the owl, and without even a glance tore it up. He knew it was from his mother. He knew it was about him leaving. He therefore knew he didn't want to read it. He stared at the owl until it moved uncomfortably under his steely gaze. "I.." He began weakly, his voice getting stronger as he continued. " I.. will. NOT be going home. NEVER! Do not come back to me! I hate everything from there! EVERYTHING! DO NOT COME BACK TO ME!"
In a fit of rage and hatred he slammed the window shut after the already retreated owl, with such force that the thick glass shattered and spread across the floor. A sudden stab of pain made him look down and see a heavy gash along his forearm. Blood dripped onto the floor as he sank to his knees. It ran down his limp fingers and speckled the greying floor. It didn't hurt, he realised. Not as much as the pain inside of him. The pain which gnawed at his gut, throbbing throughout his chest as his throat tightened. It had been many years since Draco had felt a tear slide down his cheek. And now his father was gone, locked away and disgraced, Draco had the freedom to cry.
After Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius, was captured in fifth year, Draco's life was severely changed. Without his father, the man who had taught him every hatred he knew, Draco finally had the freedom to be himself. But how can he do this when he has never known anything but hate? Draco challenges everything he knows to find out who he really is, and with a little help from Hermione Granger, the one person he thought he'd always hate, he finds himself- and somewhere he belongs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Draco Malfoy's cold, pale hand slipped as it turned the wide metal doorknob to his room above the Three Broomsticks. Sighing, he wiped his sweaty palm along the length of his travelling cloak. Grasping the doorknob roughly, he pushed the door open then swore loudly as it swung back at him, bouncing back from the force the door hinges had to take. Disregarding any prior agreement with himself to be quiet and therefore unnoticeable, he barged into the room and dropped his Hogwarts trunk and broom onto the raw wooden floor. Draco sighed yet again as he hesitated, then closed the door softly, quietly walking around his things before collapsing on the bed at the far end of the room. Even though he was somewhere he had never been before, without the rich comforts his home had to offer, he slept deeper and more peacefully then he had in many weeks.
The next morning Draco woke to a constant sharp tapping noise. Even through the groggy morning haze, he knew what the noise was. Pushing himself out of bed, still fully dressed in his travelling gear, he forced the thick glass window open. His large Eagle owl swooped silently into the room and perched on the single dresser. Holding out its leg, it whistled softly to its owner. Draco took the rolled up parchment from the owl, and without even a glance tore it up. He knew it was from his mother. He knew it was about him leaving. He therefore knew he didn't want to read it. He stared at the owl until it moved uncomfortably under his steely gaze. "I.." He began weakly, his voice getting stronger as he continued. " I.. will. NOT be going home. NEVER! Do not come back to me! I hate everything from there! EVERYTHING! DO NOT COME BACK TO ME!"
In a fit of rage and hatred he slammed the window shut after the already retreated owl, with such force that the thick glass shattered and spread across the floor. A sudden stab of pain made him look down and see a heavy gash along his forearm. Blood dripped onto the floor as he sank to his knees. It ran down his limp fingers and speckled the greying floor. It didn't hurt, he realised. Not as much as the pain inside of him. The pain which gnawed at his gut, throbbing throughout his chest as his throat tightened. It had been many years since Draco had felt a tear slide down his cheek. And now his father was gone, locked away and disgraced, Draco had the freedom to cry.