DISCY CLAIMER (DISCLAIMER): I own not the world of Harry Potter, nor it's inhabitants or locations. I also do not own any of the lyrics found in this fic. They all belong to Silverchair, the best band ever. The title is also not mine. That belongs to the chair as well.
Ok, so we got this straight?
Me no own, so you no sue.

A/N: Ok, ok, so I haven't quite completed "operation finish fanfic, but I just couldn't toss this plot idea aside. As any Silverchair fans, or even fans of Australian alternative music would have noticed, this fic was inspired by the Silverchair song "Black Tangled Heart", from their third album, Neon Ballroom. The full song is in the last chapter, but unless I astound myself and everyone else by finishing this fic before I post it, that's not up yet. It's the 8th track on the cd, which costs about $30. If you have any money, like The Chair even slightly and feel like moving, buy it, and buy it now. Right. About the fic. It's a fic based around and about the infamous Draco Malfoy, so if ya doesn't like him, don't read. Oh, and I'm not over fond of Harry, as a warning. I'm not gonna satanise him or anything, I'm just not going to be very nice to him. Ok? Ok.
In this chapter, well, there's Draco, the twins (yay!), Ol' Scar-face (boooo!) and co (mehh.) aaand… a guest appearance by…. Sirius Black!!! (YAAAY!!!!)
Sirius is just the COOLEST character. He rocks. I would write a fic about him, he being the best character in the books, but this fic is about Draco, so yes.
Yes, yes, I know, I know, it's becoming a cliché to include good ol' Padfoot in Draco fics, but I don't care. Sirius rocks, he isn't about to be left out of the first even remoteley decent HP fic I've ever posted, so :p.
Yes, you're right.
Silverchair will probably be dragged into the fray as well… but only later.


Right. Onward!
LUV PEACE AND FLYING PURPLE LLAMAS,
ELFEÄ
Always remember: Candles are ok as long as you don't fall asleep & your house burns down.

: : RESPECT THE CHAIR: :

::Black Tangled Heart::

Maybe Your Luck Has Changed

[ Chapter one ]

Draco waited impatiently as his mother went through her usual ramblings before he went off to Hogwarts for the beginning of the school year. He'd heard it all before – "Just remember that no-one's better than you, honey," or "and you know you're better than that damn Potter boy, don't worry about Quidditch so much," and so on and so forth. This year it was slightly different – he had been made the newest edition to the Slytherin Prefects, after all – but it still went in one ear and out the other.
It wasn't that Draco didn't love his mother, oh, no, he loved her dearly, but did she have to go on like this?
"Mother, I have to go, I'll miss the train." Draco said as Narcissa went into the complex details of Arithmancy, and what to do if he didn't understand.
'Feh. I don't need any help with Arithmancy – I'm doing just fine in it, thankyou very much'. "Oh, all right Draco. I'll send you an owl in two weeks. I love you, Draco."
"I love you too mother." He replied, giving his mother a hug and the obligatory kiss on the cheek.
"And Draco?" Narcissa started as Draco turned towards the Platform,
"Yes Mother?" Draco turned.
"Do try to have fun, dear." Her voice had a slight, barely detectable quaver in it.
Draco paused. He hadn't expected that.
"Of course I will Mother. Bye."
With that, he turned and left, pushing his cart before him. "Of course I'll have fun." He muttered. His eagle owl, perched precariously atop his trunk, stared at him knowingly.
"Oh, quiet, you." He said and placed his cloak over the cage despite the cold.



***


As the burgundy train pulled into the station, Draco barely waited for it to stop before leaping aboard, cloaked and hooded so that his distinctive platinum coloured hair and flint grey eyes could not be seen. He didn't feel like wasting time with Crabbe and Goyle, telling jokes they wouldn't understand and laughing at theirs – which were never funny.
He wanted to be alone.
He glared down at the small first year that sat in the seat that he had intended to make his own.
The first year shrank back.
"Move." Draco said in a voice as quiet as death and as cold as Pluto's dark side.
The first year fled, leaving in such haste that they left behind a small, roundish plastic item with a black chord and two littler round things laying on the seat he had, until Draco's appearance, occupied. Draco, curious, closed the compartment door, shoved his trunk and owl on the opposite seat, and picked up the thing before sitting down, examining it.
On closer inspection he saw that it had a small glassy thing on the top with the number '12' displayed on it. There were also some buttons – labelled "Volume", "Play", "Stop", "Pause" and "Skip" respectively.
He seemed to recall hearing of one of these things, it was a Muggle Music-playing thing. Draco reasoned that the little black round things must be what you listened to, and so, because he had nothing better to do, pressed the 'play' button.
Nothing.
He leaned down closer to the little black things, and he could hear a faint beat.
After careful consideration, he decided that perhaps the little black things go in your ears.
Ah.
Draco was greeted by a musical concoction, which was dominated by Guitar, Bass and drums, with violin and piano in the background. And singing.
'Increase Delete Escape Defeat It's all that matters to you…'
Draco decided right then that he quite liked this… music thing, and that perhaps he wouldn't even attempt to return it to it's previous owner.
Not that he would have anyway.
Roughly 6 minutes later, Draco was greeted by a song that he liked even more than the last.
And did he ever agree with the lyrics.
About halfway into this song, Draco was moshing like there's no tomorrow, and the door to his compartment opened.
"Why can't you just stop hounding me, Potter, I know you love me but I don't fly on that side of the Quidditch pitch, and even if I did I wouldn't even consider you." Draco bristled.
"This carriage is taken, Harry, let's go. We don't want to spend any more time with Malfoy than necessary." A female voice from behind Potter said quietly.
Not Granger, the Mudblood was next to old Scar-face, as was the Weasel.
Huh. Ginny Weasely.
"No, certainly don't want to tarnish yourselves by breathing the same air as me," Draco said with all the fluffiness of a Koala*. If his voice had been any more acidic, it'd have burnt a hole in the ozone layer.
They didn't move.
Draco administered the infamous Malfoy glare-o-brutal-axe-murder (© the Malfoy clan, 800 BC onwards), and yet there was still no movement.


"Malfoy, are you listening to a Muggle Discman?" Granger said in disbelif.
"Yes. And It's bloody good. Now piss off." Draco retorted.
"Isn't that below your' fascist Malfoy honour?" Granger asked, obviously dumbstruck.
"Not If I like it. You probably wouldn't though, you have no taste in anything whatsoever, judging by the way you've done your hair, appalling, that, and the more obvious statement of stupidity – hanging around people like Potter and Weasley. Now go away, I'm trying to listen to music. There are plenty other carriages on the train." Draco turned and faced the window, as a fourth song came on, which was very loud, but deeply, deeply cool.
'These are the facts, so eat what you murder
this is animal liberation
eight billion killed for human pleasure!'
Struck dumb, Potter and co left the carriage.



***


"Is it just me, or was Malfoy being remotely civil?" Hermione said as the group sat down.
"I believe so." Ginny replied.
"It's starting." Ron groaned.
"What is?" Harry asked, a lopsided grin on his face.
"The Apocalypse."



***


On that train ride to Hogwarts, Draco did more emotional thinking than he'd ever done in one session in his life before.
The music he'd found was obviously written by a deity among musicians – the diversity contained in it, and the raw emotion behind the music and lyrics were unlike anything he'd heard before.
He vowed never ever to listen to "The Wyrd Sisters" again.


Maybe he'd be more civil to the mudblood, er, Muggle born members of the school from now on – he wanted to know who these people were.

In the proper Malfoy fashion, of course.



***


"Quickly, this way, hurry up, oi, you, if you don't hurry up I'll feed you to the giant squid that lives in the lake, don't think I won't – you there, you're going the wrong way, you're a Slytherin, you stupid sod, not a bloody Hufflepuff, follow me, the common room is this way, if you get lost there's a good chance you'll never find your way back, would you stop talking, this is important…." Being a Prefect, Draco concluded, was more fun than he'd originally thought it would be. And Pansy Parkinson had not once tried to suggest that she still thought he loved her – the day just kept getting better and better as it progressed.

"Ah, the infamous Slytherin dungeon, watch your step, there's a spike trap on that flagstone, just kidding, geez, can't you kids take a joke?" He stared around at the new Slytherins in disbelif.
"Alright, this part is very important, so listen, hey you, yes you, if you don't shut up you can figure out how to get into the common room and without being told, trust me, you'll be sleeping in the corridor with the polterglist for the whole year, you have to say the password. DON'T TELL ANYONE FROM OTHER HOUSES THE PASSWORD. The password this month is nice and easy for you ickle firsties to remember – Salazar."
The tunnel into the dimly lit common room opened.
"Welcome to the stronghold, the keep, the essence of Slytherin house, and your' personal abodes for the next seven years of your lives, so you'd better like it. First year boys, your dorms are that way, First year girls, that way. Go now." Draco turned and went to his own dorm, quite pleased with himself.



***


Draco stretched as he awoke, yawning loudly despite the ridiculously early hour he knew it was, and regardless of the other sleepers in the room.
Hey, he was a Malfoy – he could do whatever he wanted.
Bloody hell, why, oh why, couldn't he sleep in like a normal person? Why?
Stupid upbringing.
Walking over to his trunk (Draco had successfully dominated about half of the room – the other boys were forced to live within the other half.
He would never have gotten away with it had he been anyone but Draco Malfoy.
In fact, if Draco had been born as anyone other than a Malfoy, he'd be dead by now.), he sat down and rifled through the morass of black in his wardrobe. (Located next to the trunk, silly.)
Not that he minded black.
Quite the contrary – black was his colour. Black had existed all those years before his birth specifically so that one day he might take it on as his signature colour, even if black wasn't technically a colour.
Black clothing was invented for this Malfoy to wear, or so it would seem.
Needless to say, Draco looked good in black.
That would have been bad enough for the other members of the human race.
What's worse, Draco knew he looked good in black.
Almost nothing is more smug, more arrogant (yet strangely irresistible) than a Malfoy well aware of his (or her) near aesthetic perfection.
In fact, several Malfoys have managed to convince dragons that they are better looking than them. (To all those who don't know, this is near impossible.)
And woe betide any who disagree with this Malfoy.
Changing into jet black jeans and an equally sable shirt, Draco looked in the mirror for a second (just to check – better safe than sorry) and was greeted by "You look fine dear. Up early again I see." In the mirror's wheezy voice.
Ignoring it, Draco stomped across the room in his massive black boots (which may or may not have been purchased in a muggle army surplus store – what his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him, or, more to the point, Draco), making as much noise as humanly possible.
Grinning, he slammed the dorm door behind him, grabbing his cloak as he exited.



A/N: So, whadaya think? Good? Bad? Bleargh? Whatever? Mind Frizzling spectacular? I hope you agree with either the last or first one… lol
Please review! I've actually got a plot this time, so I'll be posting… more often..
(Also, sorry if the formatting is a little screwey. It's not my fault.) * Koalas may be cute and cuddly looking, but they're vicious bastards if they're not tame!

P.S. I consider spelling errors to add a certain.. rustic charm to my fics.

That, and I'm too damn lazy to bother using spell check.
hee
P.S I won't be posting for about 3 days as I am going on a camp. I'll try to have the next chap ready by then!