Disclaimer: All characters are copyright to J.K. Rowling
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"What happened to your hair?" Pansy shrieked, at the blonde haired boy standing in the doorway. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
Draco shot each of them a glare and frowned. What exactly was wrong with his hair? The truth was he hadn't bothered to gel it, his father had rushed him this morning saying he had important business to attend to, so he'd had limited time to get ready. He wasn't going to risk making his father mad; he was in enough trouble with him already.
"There is nothing wrong with it." He said to Pansy calmly.
"But…you always gel your hair back, are you feeling alright?" She asked running over.
Draco pushed her away, annoyed.
"I'm fine. I don't need you running round me like a mothering hen. Now if you'll excuse me I've changed my mind about sitting in here with you."
Crabbe and Goyle made a move to follow him, but Draco stopped them quickly.
"I don't need you big louts following me either."
And with that he turned round and slammed the door behind him, leaving the three Slytherins staring at where he'd stood in shocked silence.
Moving down the train Draco found an empty compartment, dragged his trunk in and flopped down on the seat. Every part of his body seemed to be crying out in pain, this was all due to the beating he'd got last night off his father. His father was always careful never to hit him in the face so no one would ask questions. Draco had once again disappointed him, however, he hadn't disappointed himself.
Since that day his father had returned home Draco's summer had gone from bad to worse. He'd gone downstairs into the living room and had almost died of shock when he had seen who was sitting in the chair. There by the fire sat the dark lord himself. His father hadn't been joking when he'd said it was a surprise. Voldemort had beckoned Draco forward, and told him that he would soon bear the mark of the deatheaters after a few lessons. Then he had laughed like a man insane, leaving Draco with no doubt he was mad, and so was his father who was looking at Voldemort with admiration. It was at this moment that Draco vowed he would never become like his father and join Voldemort. He had dreaded to think what the lessons were going to be.
He'd soon found out one evening, when his father had told him to come with him and the other deatheaters. That evening would be a memory he would never forget. He had stood there and witnessed the torture of muggles. The deatheaters had tormented the muggles and cast the Cruciatus and Imperius curse's on them. Seeing his father among them inflicting pain on others was too much for Draco to cope with. He had turned away from what was happening in front of him and had coughed his insides up. This had disappointed his father severely and he had grabbed Draco and forced him to watch what was happening, while Voldemort just laughed. A cruel, high-pitched laugh, which had chilled Draco to the bone. When they'd got home Draco had rushed upstairs to the bathroom and once again coughed his guts up, sickened by the sights he had seen. He never wanted to clap eyes on Voldemort again. He admired Potter who'd come face to face with Voldemort, in some shape or form, during the last four years, though he would never admit that to anyone else. Sadly, however, that wasn't to be the last time he seen Voldemort, even though once was enough for Draco.
Last night his father had called him again and told him it was time to put what he was taught in to practice. Fear like Draco had never known had gripped him at that moment. His fears were confirmed when he once again joined Voldemort and the deatheaters and Voldemort had said to him 'ready to join in the fun?' Draco had nodded mutely, unable to speak.
Draco was ordered by Voldemort to cast the Imperius and Cruciatus curses on the muggle before him. The deatheaters and his father had stood around him, watching. Draco could feel his father's eyes boring into the back of his head as he raised his wand. Looking into the pained, man's eyes before him though Draco found himself unable to do anything. 'What are you waiting for' his father had yelled at him, but Draco had backed away and ran. Voldemort had found this amusing and had cackled, a laugh, which had echoed through the night. Draco had been quickly caught and dragged home by is father where he'd had the living daylights beaten out of him, and been told over and over what a failure he was and how he had severely disappointed and humiliated his father. Draco knew though that he had done the right thing, and that had been the last thing he had thought before he had passed out after a nasty blow to the head.
So here he was now on the train to Hogwarts, free from his father and his psycho friends and of course Voldemort, however, he was still surrounded by mindless Slytherins who supported them. Draco had decided he was no longer going to be surrounded by them, to be honest he couldn't bear it, not after what he had seen. However, he was not going to let them see that he was deeply troubled and lonely. They wouldn't understand him, no one did. Most people just thought he was cold, proud and hated everyone other than his housemates. That was the impression he gave off but it was a defence mechanism, his smart remarks were a way to make people back off because he didn't want to reveal that he was weak. He was though, that was something he would not admit, he was too proud to do so, another Malfoy quality. He was proud of who he was, but not proud to be associated with his own father who he detested, especially after this summer.
Draco sighed hopelessly and pushed a stray strand of his silvery, blonde hair back. He stared out of the window at the passing scenery, his grey eyes glazed, fighting back the tears. He never allowed himself to cry until he was safely alone. Things weren't really going to be that much better at Hogwarts, he had no friends there. None of his housemates were really his friends; they were just other people who had fathers who were probably deatheaters. No use worrying about that now though, he would just deal with everything as it came. That's how he'd got by before.
Exhausted and aching Draco fell asleep with that thought in his head to comfort him.
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A/N – Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Once again thanks to everyone who reviewed (I know I keep saying this) and my other regular reviewer Taracollowen. In response to Princess of Mirrors, I'm not sure yet see what happens, but the story will focus on them more than the others.
