Disclaimer: Nope, Harry Potter and all his friends do not belong to me.
Author's Note: Okay- I know I've taken a while to update but my life has been chaos for the past couple weeks. Thank you for your reviews! I absolutely LOVE reviews! I only have about eleven reviews right now and that is very depressing. If you really like this story, keep reviewing. I'm not going to post anymore unless I have a decent amount of reviews! I'm evil, I really am! Anyway, 'nuff said there. I would like to thank all my wonderful reviewers (even if you only reviewed the first chappie).
burgundyred: Thanks a bunch for reviewing and for pointing out my mistake. I will have to add another Malfoy trait to the list unless I want people to think I am incapable of counting! One.Two.Six. Ha ha! Just kidding! I'm pretty sure my teachers aren't that dumb. Anyway, I'm getting way off topic here. Thank you soooooo much for reviewing! Also thanks for the suggestion; it was a good one. I kind of need ideas as I have stumbled across some writer's block. Please keep reading!
Araya Arwen: Thanks a ton for reviewing! Reviews make me happy! I'm glad you liked the whole thing with Crabbe and Goyle- it's kind of a weird idea but I liked it! Hugs and bunnies!
DraCoS*SlyTHeRiN*DeViL: I am really glad you like my story! I'll try and update more often! Thanx! ((((
FelineFire82: Thank you soooo much- reviews are my favorite! Also, on the whole Arnie thing I completely agree. Smiles!
XxLILBaBiEyEzxX: Thanks for reviewing! I hope you keep reading!
Armmonde: Thanks! I'm happy that someone appreciates my descriptions! (
Doneril: Thanks! I'll continue!
Variana Croft: Thanks for reviewing- even if it wasn't your fav story!
Lotrangel-13: Okay.. Er..right.well.I know who you are, too! Ha ha! Please keep reviewing my little groupie! If you don't I shall reveal your real name! Hugs from G.L.B.M.D.Y.M.P
Okay, onto the chapter. But before I go I have to tell you that I couldn't think of a sixth Malfoy trait (if any of you have a good one I'll use it) so I will fix my little boo-boo. There are only FIVE Malfoy traits, FIVE. Okay, I'm done now. Read on...
Chapter Three- Discovering Hidden Depths
It was with much reluctance that Draco signed the list to return to Wiltshire for the Christmas holidays on the Hogwarts Express. There was nothing to look forward to. From the moment he arrived on the platform his two burly "bodyguards", known as Crabbe and Goyle, were immediately replaced by a tall, thin, evil-looking man with sleek blonde hair and cold, intense, unforgiving eyes. Draco was constantly tailed by his father the entire holiday, and was let out of his sight only while he slept. Not only was this frustrating to Draco, but it made him feel like a little boy who didn't have a clue what he was doing. His father treated him like a dunce and never ceased to insult or beat his son.
The one remote hope that might have made Draco's Christmas much better was that he had a chance to see his mother. However, Narcissa Malfoy was away on a "business trip". When Draco heard this he had to shake of a mad desire to say out loud, Business trip my arse! Draco knew very well that Narcissa had been cheating on her husband for years, though it did not bother him in the least. Lucius had probably done the same to his wife anyway, so why did it matter?
Draco often lay in bed at night, counting off the days again and again until the time would come to return to Hogwarts. In his great canopy bed with silk sheets he would think, Nine more days. Nine more days. Sometimes he would actually long for his mother. During the day, even when Lucius' wrath came down upon him, he managed to avoid such undesirable thoughts. At night, however, he was extremely vulnerable. Help me fool! He would say to the image of his mother in his mind before shaking his head furiously, ashamed to think like that, as if he were a child rather than a young man of sixteen. I'm a Malfoy, Draco thought. Malfoys aren't afraid to be alone. Malfoys don't cry for their mothers. Malfoy's are fearless. These thoughts did nothing to help his yearning for anything but where he was, what he had and what he was being forced to live with. Every night Draco wished for a way to escape. To escape from his father, from the world, from everything, but his mind remained blank and suspended in misery and self pity.
Most likely the worst day of the Christmas holidays was Christmas Eve itself. Early that morning Lucius roused Draco with a sharp poke from his cane, demanding, "Get up! The Death Eaters are coming. I want to be proud of you, so don't smart off today if you would rather not suffer from my wrath."
Lucius Malfoy spoke smoothly to his son and left so quickly that Draco didn't have a chance to reply.
Draco rose out of bed, stretching and yawning. He felt like laughing, however odd it may have seemed. When he heard his father saying, "the Death Eaters are coming" he had involuntarily smiled slightly. The way he said it had made it sound like some kind of warning of alarm.
"The Death Eaters are coming! The Death Eaters are coming!"
In fact, Draco knew that if the Death Eaters were really coming, for a meeting, party etc., he was in for an unpleasant time, but he couldn't help chuckling to himself all the same.
In the drawing room later that morning Draco stood before his father. If an outsider had looked in on them it would have seemed that they were having a staring contest. Willing the other to blink first.
Draco looked at his father's pointed face and then into his eyes, a cold gray that were exactly like his own. Lucius Malfoy looked steadily back, a hint of a smirk etched into his face, as if he were secretly laughing at something.
"So," Draco broke the silence, "the Death Eaters are coming?"
"Yes. For a little Christmas party and then a meeting. They are bringing their families."
"Who's they?" Draco inquired politely, playing dumb.
Lucius glared at him before continuing. "I expect you to wear dress robes and be on your best behavior. Our guests arrive at five o'clock."
Draco nodded curtly and headed out of the drawing room, cursing under his breath.
* * *
Draco hated the Death Eaters. He absolutely detested them. And it was just Draco's luck that he got spend Christmas Eve with all of them.
He spent the first part of the evening greeting the guests at the huge front doors of polished mahogany.
"Good evening," Draco would say, nonchalantly while telling them in his head that they should go screw themselves.
In return the men (most of whom were burly, ugly and were wearing a very annoying look of superiority) would make some comment about "becoming one of us soon", or, at best, smirking without saying a word. The little, prissy wives, on the other hand, would coo over Draco, telling him how handsome he was and introduce him to all their ugly children. The last family to arrive was the Parkinsons. Even before Draco could manage one word of a greeting he was steered into the next room by Pansy Parkinson, who was already chatting away excitedly into his ear.
"Draco, how are you?" she squealed, hooking her arm underneath his.
"Fine."
"I've missed you. Have you missed me?"
Draco had a strong, nearly uncontrollable desire to tell her what he really thought about her, but decided against it. He didn't want anymore trouble with his father.
"Sooo," Pansy began, drawing out the word so long as if she was going to say something of extreme importance. "I've noticed that you haven't been in the prefect meetings lately so I'll have to break the news to you myself."
"What news?" Draco asked, wondering if it might actually be something interesting.
"We're going to have a ball this spring!" Pansy was overwhelmed with enthusiasm. "Won't it be fun? We haven't had one since the Yule Ball in fourth year."
Draco sighed, he had been hoping for something of more importance. Great, a ball. Hooray.
"I know it's kind of early and all," continued Pansy, oblivious to Draco's obvious lack of interest, "but, I was wondering if you would go with me?"
Draco again said nothing.
"What's up? You aren't acting like yourself," Pansy said.
"I'm fine," Draco snapped. Pansy looked at him with her mouth open and let out a little whimper, saying, "I thought you liked me, Draco."
Well, you thought wrong, Draco thought aggressively and left the room without another word.
Draco walked down the now deserted corridor; all the guests had arrived. His footsteps echoed throughout the passageway as he walked down the marble floor towards the drawing room. The Death Eaters were meeting in the drawing room before the party. All their children were most likely already stuffing themselves in the kitchen.
About one hundred yards away from the drawing room Draco could hear some of the voices within. They must have been arguing about something, as their tones sounded defensive and slightly angry. He could pick out especially his father's disingenuous, cutting accent, Robert Goyle's deep grunts and Macnair's strident drawl.
Draco neared the keyhole on the doors to the drawing room and bent down to peer through. The keyhole did not offer the best view, but it was better than nothing. Draco could see clearly his father, behind a desk in a black leather chair, glaring at whoever was speaking at the moment.
"...What the problem is, Malfoy," Macnair's was saying. "It is of no importance to us. We have much better things to discuss. He's your son and it's your responsibility to deal with him. Why should we care?"
Draco started. They're talking about me, he thought. He leaned closer to the door handle, straining to hear every word as he watched Lucius rise from his chair, obviously upset.
"Macnair," Lucius began icily, "surely this problem does involve you. We, as Death Eaters of a high position, need to recruit more Death Eaters. As we all know, it is much more difficult to recruit outsiders than our own family members. Outsiders are not allowed to move directly to our rank and often they are unwilling. Our children and other relatives, however, are able to begin as Death Eaters. They are vital to our community. We need their power and pureblood. It is true, yes, that thus far my son has been the only one to object to taking his place among us. But you must be aware that your children could be next in line to be brainwashed by people like Albus Dumbledore. We must take immediate action!" At this point Lucius banged his fist on the table, waiting for some response from his colleagues.
After a moment a few Death Eaters spoke up, agreeing with Lucius. Then Macnair spoke.
"Well, still I say that you must deal with your own son. Put the Imperius curse on him. Enroll him in Durmstrang. Do something that will knock some sense into him."
Draco was outraged. How dare his father sit in there like that, telling the Death Eaters about him? It wasn't right. In his rage Draco must've let out a noise of some sort because suddenly Lucius turned abruptly and said, "What was that?"
Draco willed himself to move, but stayed put. The door creaked open. Robert Goyle towered above him.
"Why, Lucius," he said. "It is the subject of our present conversation."
Goyle grabbed Draco by the scruff of his neck and literally threw him into the room. Draco landed hard in front of his father's desk, rubbing his neck where Goyle's callused hands had been. Lucius stared down at him. He raised his wand hand.
"I refuse to put my son under the Imperius Curse, now. He may yet be convinced. However, he does need, as Macnair just said, some sense knocked into him. Perhaps this will help."
Lucius smirked evilly at his son.
* * * When Draco awoke, the last thing he could remember was Lucius saying, "Perhaps this will help."
He was still in the drawing room, albeit he was the room's lone occupant. Sitting up, Draco felt pains in his lower back, either from being on the floor for hours or from whatever torture his father had put him through the night before. Looking down at his chest, he saw that his robes were ripped in places and that there were many new bruises blooming all over his body. Draco raised himself up slowly and with much effort, making his way toward his room. Gritting his teeth and trying in vain to ignore the pain, Draco concentrated on the one hopeful thought he could think of. Tomorrow I go back to school. Tomorrow.
* * * Hermione Granger sat solemnly at her dressing table, absentmindedly combing her bushy hair. She thought briefly of perhaps using her Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on her hair before she went back to school after Christmas break, but she didn't really want to. She cared about how she looked, yes, but learning was much more important. Why should she fix herself up just to go back to Hogwarts?
She sat in front of her mirror for awhile longer, contemplating things that a girl like Hermione Granger would contemplate. The latest book she'd read. Her studies and holiday homework. Her challenging N.E.W.T. classes. One of Hermione's favorite hobbies was thinking. It was so peaceful.
Her mother shortly and rudely interrupted her thoughts, with a shrill call up the stairs.
"Hermione, are you almost ready? You need to get down here if we want to make it to the station."
Hermione sighed. From her house it took nearly four hours to reach London if they traveled by Muggle transportation. Her parents forbid her to use Floo Powder. It was very frustrating. Her parents didn't understand the magical world at all. They were kind enough to her, and Hermione knew that they loved her, but all the same, she wished they could understand about the world she was a part of.
She had tried talking to her mother about her classes. She had told her about Arithmacy and Transfiguration- her two favorite classes. This conversation resulted in uninterested nods from Mrs. Granger and Hermione sensed that it was time to change the subject. She tried talking about Harry and Ron instead. This, Hermione soon found, was an even worse topic.
"Hermione, why don't you have any friends that are girls?" Her mother had inquired anxiously.
"I do have friends that are girls, mother. It's just that my best friends are Ron and Harry."
Mrs. Granger sniffed, unsatisfied. "Well, I just don't want anything, you know, happening."
"Mother," Hermione said impatiently, "We aren't dating or anything- yes, I know that I dated Ron a bit in fifth year, but that isn't happening anymore."
It was rather irritating really; it was almost as if her mother (and her father for that matter) were deliberately disconnecting themselves from Hermione and her education. The one thing they had understood was when Hermione became a prefect. It was probably the only thing they completely understood about Hogwarts and were able to be proud of Hermione for it.
"Hermione! Come on! And bring your trunk down!" Mrs. Granger was shouting again from the lower floor.
"I'll be right down," Hermione called back, pulling herself out of her stupor of thoughts. She gathered up some small items on her vanity and shoved them into her trunk. Scooping Crookshanks with one hand and holding the handle of her trunk with the other, she headed downstairs. She had to admit she was very glad to be going back to school.
* * *
Platform One and Three Quarters was crowded. Students bustled around, dragging heavy trunks and waving good-bye to their parents. Hermione had said goodbye to her own parents outside the platform, they had chosen (as usual) to leave her outside the magical barrier that led to the platform on which the Hogwarts' Express waited. To tell the truth, she was secretly glad to be rid of them. They were working over the holidays, so Hermione was more often than not left to amuse herself. The summer holidays were always much better. They went to France oftentimes in the summer, which was at least somewhere besides England and her parents didn't have to work.
Hermione heard the train whistle as it let out a billow of steam. Hermione had always wondered why the steam was necessary. The train itself worked by magic only, so most likely the smoke was just an illusion for the Muggles' benefits.
The watch on Hermione's wrist told her that there was only a few moments left to board. She heaved her trunk up the steps and walked down the corridor, searching for am empty compartment. She wasn't in the mood to be social right then. She passed a number of compartments full of students. She saw her fellow prefects, lots of little first and second years and a batch of Slytherins. By the time she reached the last couple of compartments she wished that Harry and Ron were there, she really needed someone to keep her company. Harry and Ron had chosen to stay at Hogwarts though. Harry never went home for the holidays and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were far too busy with the order to have Ron and Ginny home.
Hermione stood at the end of the corridor, considering her options. All of the compartments were full except for one, at the very back of the train, which had only one occupant. Hermione couldn't tell who was in there; they had their cloak pulled around them and the hood covering their face. The person might've been sleeping.
Ever so quietly, Hermione tiptoed into the room and pushed her trunk into the corner. She leaned over the person- whoever it was, they were sleeping. She looked at the person's trunk, for clues, but it was plain black leather with no initials or other engravements. Taking a seat across from the sleeping student, Hermione stared out the window, already deep in thought.
* * *
Draco awoke abruptly to the rattling of the train. He peered under the hood of his cloak and started. What the hell? He thought.
"Granger," he demanded suddenly, making her jump out of her seat. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
Draco pulled his cloak off, waiting for Granger to reply. Instead, she just gasped and pointed at his neck.
"What?" Draco said, moving his eyes from Granger to his neck. All around his neck were great, purple bruises. The bruises led down to his collarbone too. How could he have been so stupid? He was so anxious to leave the Malfoy mansion that he had completely forgotten to cover up the many bruises his father had presented him with on Christmas Eve. Draco swore.
"How did those get there?" Granger asked.
Is she actually concerned? Draco thought, though he said, "It's nothing. Just m-my father. Er.y-y-you know."
Draco could see that Granger was incredulous. "Your father did that to you?"
"Well, yeah."
Hermione sank down into her seat, feeling dazed. His father was abusing Malfoy, Malfoy. His rich, Death Eater father who, Hermione was under the impression, spoiled his son to death. Oh my gosh! Hermione thought over and over. Suddenly, Malfoy spoke again.
"Aren't you going to leave?"
Just as quickly as it came, Hermione's empathy for Draco Malfoy vanished almost instantly.
"Well, if that's what you want!" She said angrily. "I'm not doing anything to you! I was actually feeling a bit sorry for you, but I can see you don't want my sympathy!"
Hermione stormed towards the compartment door. She was just about to pull it open when Malfoy grabbed her arm, hard.
"Er.you don't have to go."
Author's Note: Hey, sorry to leave you guys hanging but I can't think of anything else at the moment and I really want to post this. I'm also sorry that this story is going so slow, but that's how it's got to be if I want Draco and Hermione to stay in character. Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! I want more reviews really badly!!!! So keep reading. Also, when I mentioned that Hermione dated Ron in fifth year you could probably tell that wasn't true to the book- according to some. According to me, however, and some of my friends who are also Potty fans, we think that Hermione and Ron were dating secretly in the fifth book. I mean, come on; look at all the clues. Ron gets Hermione perfume for goodness sake! I don't think you'd buy "just a friend" perfume for Christmas. Also, they keep exchanging looks when they think Harry can't see. Of course, those looks might actually be about Harry but still.
So, all I have to say to you is REVIEW!!! ( ( ( (
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Author's Note: Okay- I know I've taken a while to update but my life has been chaos for the past couple weeks. Thank you for your reviews! I absolutely LOVE reviews! I only have about eleven reviews right now and that is very depressing. If you really like this story, keep reviewing. I'm not going to post anymore unless I have a decent amount of reviews! I'm evil, I really am! Anyway, 'nuff said there. I would like to thank all my wonderful reviewers (even if you only reviewed the first chappie).
burgundyred: Thanks a bunch for reviewing and for pointing out my mistake. I will have to add another Malfoy trait to the list unless I want people to think I am incapable of counting! One.Two.Six. Ha ha! Just kidding! I'm pretty sure my teachers aren't that dumb. Anyway, I'm getting way off topic here. Thank you soooooo much for reviewing! Also thanks for the suggestion; it was a good one. I kind of need ideas as I have stumbled across some writer's block. Please keep reading!
Araya Arwen: Thanks a ton for reviewing! Reviews make me happy! I'm glad you liked the whole thing with Crabbe and Goyle- it's kind of a weird idea but I liked it! Hugs and bunnies!
DraCoS*SlyTHeRiN*DeViL: I am really glad you like my story! I'll try and update more often! Thanx! ((((
FelineFire82: Thank you soooo much- reviews are my favorite! Also, on the whole Arnie thing I completely agree. Smiles!
XxLILBaBiEyEzxX: Thanks for reviewing! I hope you keep reading!
Armmonde: Thanks! I'm happy that someone appreciates my descriptions! (
Doneril: Thanks! I'll continue!
Variana Croft: Thanks for reviewing- even if it wasn't your fav story!
Lotrangel-13: Okay.. Er..right.well.I know who you are, too! Ha ha! Please keep reviewing my little groupie! If you don't I shall reveal your real name! Hugs from G.L.B.M.D.Y.M.P
Okay, onto the chapter. But before I go I have to tell you that I couldn't think of a sixth Malfoy trait (if any of you have a good one I'll use it) so I will fix my little boo-boo. There are only FIVE Malfoy traits, FIVE. Okay, I'm done now. Read on...
Chapter Three- Discovering Hidden Depths
It was with much reluctance that Draco signed the list to return to Wiltshire for the Christmas holidays on the Hogwarts Express. There was nothing to look forward to. From the moment he arrived on the platform his two burly "bodyguards", known as Crabbe and Goyle, were immediately replaced by a tall, thin, evil-looking man with sleek blonde hair and cold, intense, unforgiving eyes. Draco was constantly tailed by his father the entire holiday, and was let out of his sight only while he slept. Not only was this frustrating to Draco, but it made him feel like a little boy who didn't have a clue what he was doing. His father treated him like a dunce and never ceased to insult or beat his son.
The one remote hope that might have made Draco's Christmas much better was that he had a chance to see his mother. However, Narcissa Malfoy was away on a "business trip". When Draco heard this he had to shake of a mad desire to say out loud, Business trip my arse! Draco knew very well that Narcissa had been cheating on her husband for years, though it did not bother him in the least. Lucius had probably done the same to his wife anyway, so why did it matter?
Draco often lay in bed at night, counting off the days again and again until the time would come to return to Hogwarts. In his great canopy bed with silk sheets he would think, Nine more days. Nine more days. Sometimes he would actually long for his mother. During the day, even when Lucius' wrath came down upon him, he managed to avoid such undesirable thoughts. At night, however, he was extremely vulnerable. Help me fool! He would say to the image of his mother in his mind before shaking his head furiously, ashamed to think like that, as if he were a child rather than a young man of sixteen. I'm a Malfoy, Draco thought. Malfoys aren't afraid to be alone. Malfoys don't cry for their mothers. Malfoy's are fearless. These thoughts did nothing to help his yearning for anything but where he was, what he had and what he was being forced to live with. Every night Draco wished for a way to escape. To escape from his father, from the world, from everything, but his mind remained blank and suspended in misery and self pity.
Most likely the worst day of the Christmas holidays was Christmas Eve itself. Early that morning Lucius roused Draco with a sharp poke from his cane, demanding, "Get up! The Death Eaters are coming. I want to be proud of you, so don't smart off today if you would rather not suffer from my wrath."
Lucius Malfoy spoke smoothly to his son and left so quickly that Draco didn't have a chance to reply.
Draco rose out of bed, stretching and yawning. He felt like laughing, however odd it may have seemed. When he heard his father saying, "the Death Eaters are coming" he had involuntarily smiled slightly. The way he said it had made it sound like some kind of warning of alarm.
"The Death Eaters are coming! The Death Eaters are coming!"
In fact, Draco knew that if the Death Eaters were really coming, for a meeting, party etc., he was in for an unpleasant time, but he couldn't help chuckling to himself all the same.
In the drawing room later that morning Draco stood before his father. If an outsider had looked in on them it would have seemed that they were having a staring contest. Willing the other to blink first.
Draco looked at his father's pointed face and then into his eyes, a cold gray that were exactly like his own. Lucius Malfoy looked steadily back, a hint of a smirk etched into his face, as if he were secretly laughing at something.
"So," Draco broke the silence, "the Death Eaters are coming?"
"Yes. For a little Christmas party and then a meeting. They are bringing their families."
"Who's they?" Draco inquired politely, playing dumb.
Lucius glared at him before continuing. "I expect you to wear dress robes and be on your best behavior. Our guests arrive at five o'clock."
Draco nodded curtly and headed out of the drawing room, cursing under his breath.
* * *
Draco hated the Death Eaters. He absolutely detested them. And it was just Draco's luck that he got spend Christmas Eve with all of them.
He spent the first part of the evening greeting the guests at the huge front doors of polished mahogany.
"Good evening," Draco would say, nonchalantly while telling them in his head that they should go screw themselves.
In return the men (most of whom were burly, ugly and were wearing a very annoying look of superiority) would make some comment about "becoming one of us soon", or, at best, smirking without saying a word. The little, prissy wives, on the other hand, would coo over Draco, telling him how handsome he was and introduce him to all their ugly children. The last family to arrive was the Parkinsons. Even before Draco could manage one word of a greeting he was steered into the next room by Pansy Parkinson, who was already chatting away excitedly into his ear.
"Draco, how are you?" she squealed, hooking her arm underneath his.
"Fine."
"I've missed you. Have you missed me?"
Draco had a strong, nearly uncontrollable desire to tell her what he really thought about her, but decided against it. He didn't want anymore trouble with his father.
"Sooo," Pansy began, drawing out the word so long as if she was going to say something of extreme importance. "I've noticed that you haven't been in the prefect meetings lately so I'll have to break the news to you myself."
"What news?" Draco asked, wondering if it might actually be something interesting.
"We're going to have a ball this spring!" Pansy was overwhelmed with enthusiasm. "Won't it be fun? We haven't had one since the Yule Ball in fourth year."
Draco sighed, he had been hoping for something of more importance. Great, a ball. Hooray.
"I know it's kind of early and all," continued Pansy, oblivious to Draco's obvious lack of interest, "but, I was wondering if you would go with me?"
Draco again said nothing.
"What's up? You aren't acting like yourself," Pansy said.
"I'm fine," Draco snapped. Pansy looked at him with her mouth open and let out a little whimper, saying, "I thought you liked me, Draco."
Well, you thought wrong, Draco thought aggressively and left the room without another word.
Draco walked down the now deserted corridor; all the guests had arrived. His footsteps echoed throughout the passageway as he walked down the marble floor towards the drawing room. The Death Eaters were meeting in the drawing room before the party. All their children were most likely already stuffing themselves in the kitchen.
About one hundred yards away from the drawing room Draco could hear some of the voices within. They must have been arguing about something, as their tones sounded defensive and slightly angry. He could pick out especially his father's disingenuous, cutting accent, Robert Goyle's deep grunts and Macnair's strident drawl.
Draco neared the keyhole on the doors to the drawing room and bent down to peer through. The keyhole did not offer the best view, but it was better than nothing. Draco could see clearly his father, behind a desk in a black leather chair, glaring at whoever was speaking at the moment.
"...What the problem is, Malfoy," Macnair's was saying. "It is of no importance to us. We have much better things to discuss. He's your son and it's your responsibility to deal with him. Why should we care?"
Draco started. They're talking about me, he thought. He leaned closer to the door handle, straining to hear every word as he watched Lucius rise from his chair, obviously upset.
"Macnair," Lucius began icily, "surely this problem does involve you. We, as Death Eaters of a high position, need to recruit more Death Eaters. As we all know, it is much more difficult to recruit outsiders than our own family members. Outsiders are not allowed to move directly to our rank and often they are unwilling. Our children and other relatives, however, are able to begin as Death Eaters. They are vital to our community. We need their power and pureblood. It is true, yes, that thus far my son has been the only one to object to taking his place among us. But you must be aware that your children could be next in line to be brainwashed by people like Albus Dumbledore. We must take immediate action!" At this point Lucius banged his fist on the table, waiting for some response from his colleagues.
After a moment a few Death Eaters spoke up, agreeing with Lucius. Then Macnair spoke.
"Well, still I say that you must deal with your own son. Put the Imperius curse on him. Enroll him in Durmstrang. Do something that will knock some sense into him."
Draco was outraged. How dare his father sit in there like that, telling the Death Eaters about him? It wasn't right. In his rage Draco must've let out a noise of some sort because suddenly Lucius turned abruptly and said, "What was that?"
Draco willed himself to move, but stayed put. The door creaked open. Robert Goyle towered above him.
"Why, Lucius," he said. "It is the subject of our present conversation."
Goyle grabbed Draco by the scruff of his neck and literally threw him into the room. Draco landed hard in front of his father's desk, rubbing his neck where Goyle's callused hands had been. Lucius stared down at him. He raised his wand hand.
"I refuse to put my son under the Imperius Curse, now. He may yet be convinced. However, he does need, as Macnair just said, some sense knocked into him. Perhaps this will help."
Lucius smirked evilly at his son.
* * * When Draco awoke, the last thing he could remember was Lucius saying, "Perhaps this will help."
He was still in the drawing room, albeit he was the room's lone occupant. Sitting up, Draco felt pains in his lower back, either from being on the floor for hours or from whatever torture his father had put him through the night before. Looking down at his chest, he saw that his robes were ripped in places and that there were many new bruises blooming all over his body. Draco raised himself up slowly and with much effort, making his way toward his room. Gritting his teeth and trying in vain to ignore the pain, Draco concentrated on the one hopeful thought he could think of. Tomorrow I go back to school. Tomorrow.
* * * Hermione Granger sat solemnly at her dressing table, absentmindedly combing her bushy hair. She thought briefly of perhaps using her Sleekeazy's Hair Potion on her hair before she went back to school after Christmas break, but she didn't really want to. She cared about how she looked, yes, but learning was much more important. Why should she fix herself up just to go back to Hogwarts?
She sat in front of her mirror for awhile longer, contemplating things that a girl like Hermione Granger would contemplate. The latest book she'd read. Her studies and holiday homework. Her challenging N.E.W.T. classes. One of Hermione's favorite hobbies was thinking. It was so peaceful.
Her mother shortly and rudely interrupted her thoughts, with a shrill call up the stairs.
"Hermione, are you almost ready? You need to get down here if we want to make it to the station."
Hermione sighed. From her house it took nearly four hours to reach London if they traveled by Muggle transportation. Her parents forbid her to use Floo Powder. It was very frustrating. Her parents didn't understand the magical world at all. They were kind enough to her, and Hermione knew that they loved her, but all the same, she wished they could understand about the world she was a part of.
She had tried talking to her mother about her classes. She had told her about Arithmacy and Transfiguration- her two favorite classes. This conversation resulted in uninterested nods from Mrs. Granger and Hermione sensed that it was time to change the subject. She tried talking about Harry and Ron instead. This, Hermione soon found, was an even worse topic.
"Hermione, why don't you have any friends that are girls?" Her mother had inquired anxiously.
"I do have friends that are girls, mother. It's just that my best friends are Ron and Harry."
Mrs. Granger sniffed, unsatisfied. "Well, I just don't want anything, you know, happening."
"Mother," Hermione said impatiently, "We aren't dating or anything- yes, I know that I dated Ron a bit in fifth year, but that isn't happening anymore."
It was rather irritating really; it was almost as if her mother (and her father for that matter) were deliberately disconnecting themselves from Hermione and her education. The one thing they had understood was when Hermione became a prefect. It was probably the only thing they completely understood about Hogwarts and were able to be proud of Hermione for it.
"Hermione! Come on! And bring your trunk down!" Mrs. Granger was shouting again from the lower floor.
"I'll be right down," Hermione called back, pulling herself out of her stupor of thoughts. She gathered up some small items on her vanity and shoved them into her trunk. Scooping Crookshanks with one hand and holding the handle of her trunk with the other, she headed downstairs. She had to admit she was very glad to be going back to school.
* * *
Platform One and Three Quarters was crowded. Students bustled around, dragging heavy trunks and waving good-bye to their parents. Hermione had said goodbye to her own parents outside the platform, they had chosen (as usual) to leave her outside the magical barrier that led to the platform on which the Hogwarts' Express waited. To tell the truth, she was secretly glad to be rid of them. They were working over the holidays, so Hermione was more often than not left to amuse herself. The summer holidays were always much better. They went to France oftentimes in the summer, which was at least somewhere besides England and her parents didn't have to work.
Hermione heard the train whistle as it let out a billow of steam. Hermione had always wondered why the steam was necessary. The train itself worked by magic only, so most likely the smoke was just an illusion for the Muggles' benefits.
The watch on Hermione's wrist told her that there was only a few moments left to board. She heaved her trunk up the steps and walked down the corridor, searching for am empty compartment. She wasn't in the mood to be social right then. She passed a number of compartments full of students. She saw her fellow prefects, lots of little first and second years and a batch of Slytherins. By the time she reached the last couple of compartments she wished that Harry and Ron were there, she really needed someone to keep her company. Harry and Ron had chosen to stay at Hogwarts though. Harry never went home for the holidays and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were far too busy with the order to have Ron and Ginny home.
Hermione stood at the end of the corridor, considering her options. All of the compartments were full except for one, at the very back of the train, which had only one occupant. Hermione couldn't tell who was in there; they had their cloak pulled around them and the hood covering their face. The person might've been sleeping.
Ever so quietly, Hermione tiptoed into the room and pushed her trunk into the corner. She leaned over the person- whoever it was, they were sleeping. She looked at the person's trunk, for clues, but it was plain black leather with no initials or other engravements. Taking a seat across from the sleeping student, Hermione stared out the window, already deep in thought.
* * *
Draco awoke abruptly to the rattling of the train. He peered under the hood of his cloak and started. What the hell? He thought.
"Granger," he demanded suddenly, making her jump out of her seat. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
Draco pulled his cloak off, waiting for Granger to reply. Instead, she just gasped and pointed at his neck.
"What?" Draco said, moving his eyes from Granger to his neck. All around his neck were great, purple bruises. The bruises led down to his collarbone too. How could he have been so stupid? He was so anxious to leave the Malfoy mansion that he had completely forgotten to cover up the many bruises his father had presented him with on Christmas Eve. Draco swore.
"How did those get there?" Granger asked.
Is she actually concerned? Draco thought, though he said, "It's nothing. Just m-my father. Er.y-y-you know."
Draco could see that Granger was incredulous. "Your father did that to you?"
"Well, yeah."
Hermione sank down into her seat, feeling dazed. His father was abusing Malfoy, Malfoy. His rich, Death Eater father who, Hermione was under the impression, spoiled his son to death. Oh my gosh! Hermione thought over and over. Suddenly, Malfoy spoke again.
"Aren't you going to leave?"
Just as quickly as it came, Hermione's empathy for Draco Malfoy vanished almost instantly.
"Well, if that's what you want!" She said angrily. "I'm not doing anything to you! I was actually feeling a bit sorry for you, but I can see you don't want my sympathy!"
Hermione stormed towards the compartment door. She was just about to pull it open when Malfoy grabbed her arm, hard.
"Er.you don't have to go."
Author's Note: Hey, sorry to leave you guys hanging but I can't think of anything else at the moment and I really want to post this. I'm also sorry that this story is going so slow, but that's how it's got to be if I want Draco and Hermione to stay in character. Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW! I want more reviews really badly!!!! So keep reading. Also, when I mentioned that Hermione dated Ron in fifth year you could probably tell that wasn't true to the book- according to some. According to me, however, and some of my friends who are also Potty fans, we think that Hermione and Ron were dating secretly in the fifth book. I mean, come on; look at all the clues. Ron gets Hermione perfume for goodness sake! I don't think you'd buy "just a friend" perfume for Christmas. Also, they keep exchanging looks when they think Harry can't see. Of course, those looks might actually be about Harry but still.
So, all I have to say to you is REVIEW!!! ( ( ( (
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