Seer Eyes and Cigarette Ashes :

By: ChubbyBunny

Ok, I'll admit it...I DO own Harry Potter. J.K Rowling stole my idea and is making profit off of my work! See why I'm so good at writing fiction?? ^__^ I still wish the idea was mine....*SOBSOB*

***Flashbacks***

'thoughts'

"speaking"

Draco laid on his green silk sheets staring emptily up at the ceiling. The only noise in the room was the sound of the rain pouring outside of the magic castle walls. He was in a reminiscing mode, something that he hated. He hated thinking about his past, and his parents, and this school and everything else that annoyed him. Damn he needed a smoke. But he promised Hermione he would stop, she hated his smelling like a cheap bar. He had stopped noticing the smell years ago when he had first started. There he was, a boy of no more than 9 smoking up a storm behind his family mansion. He didn't even know if his parents knew of his nasty little habit, and even if they did they wouldn't care. Narcissa, his mother was the one who smoked; that's where Draco had gotten his first cigarette, from his mothers nightstand. She of course used a special de-odorizing spell so no one would ever be able to tell of her 4 pack a day habit. Personally, he liked the smell. There was just something about the smoky, headache causing fumes that caused him to forget his dark thoughts.

***

The small boy peeked cautiously around the master bedroom doorframe; no one there. Draco crept across the floor and stared in awe at the extravagant surroundings. The decor was black and green, two colors he had always grown up with but never fully understood. A humongous four poster bed loomed in the center of the room, the black drapery's hanging like dark waterfalls down to the hardwood floor. On the right side of the room was a large oak vanity, his mothers. As if in a trance he walked towards it, observing his reflection in the enchanted mirror.

For a boy his age he was rather short and skinny, his white blond hair hung down too his shoulders and was tied back in a black ribbon. Dracos gray eyes were wide in amazement, so THIS is where his mommy played. With a great amount of effort, he pulled himself up onto his mothers' vanity chair and looked at himself once again in the mirror and liked what he saw: his daddy's hair, his mommy's nose, but his eyes...those were the only things that bothered him. Draco had often wondered where they had come from. If his father's eyes were blue, and his mothers eyes were green, how did his eyes end up the color of stone? He frowned, why were his eyes so ugly? They made him always look angry about something. His nanny had told him that he had 'Seer eyes', eyes that could burn into peoples minds and see what they were really thinking. Though he had never told anyone, he believed she was right. He knew his father wasn't the nicest man, especially when he got out his cane...

The boy shuddered.

And his mother, he knew she loved him, she just didn't know how to be a mother. More then once he had knocked on the bedroom door only to be shooed away by her attendants. He had always tried to convince himself that she was just busy, when in his heart he knew that she didn't want to, no COULDN'T deal with him. That's when he started to notice his mommy smelled funny when supper came around, she smelled musty and like smoke, almost as if she had stood over a chimney for a few days. While his father complained about it, something drew him to the smell. It was different kind of must then the kind down in the cellar, it was a somewhat sickly sweet smell. He wanted to know what caused the odd odor.

And then one day he had finally come into the library only to see his mommy standing by the window, a small smoldering stick in-between her fingers. He approached her like one would approach a growling dog,

"Mother?" he had asked meekly.

At first it seemed like she didn't hear him, she gazed out the window and blew a steady stream of smoke from in-between her pale pink lips. She then stubbed out the cigarette and smiled down at him,

"Yes Draco?"

He pointed cautiously at the gray lump in the ashtray, "What is that?"

Narcissa looked from her son to her cigarette. She sighed and smiled sadly down at him, "It's nothing for you to have Draco. It's called a cigarette, it's bad for you, Muggles always create bad things."

Draco nodded, "I understand Mother."

His Mother smiled again and held out her arms, "Come here." she murmured.

Draco paused, a confused look on his face.

"Come here." his mother said again, somewhat more insistent.

As if he was walking on glass, young Draco walked slowly towards his mothers arms and allowed her to envelope his small frame in a warm embrace. Narcissa sighed and tightened her hold on him, "Oh Draco..." she said softly, "...I'm so sorry if I'm not always there for you...you know mother loves you right?"

"Yes mommy." he said softly.

There was a sudden jerk in Narcissas body that told Draco he was in for it. She shoved him away hard and slapped him across the face, "DO NOT CALL ME MOMMY!" she screamed, "I WANT YOU TO CALL ME MOTHER! DO YOU UNDERSTAND YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE BRAT?! I WILL NOT BE ADDRESSED AS SOME COMMON HOUSEWIFE! ANSWER ME! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

Tears of pain stung Dracos eyes, but he managed to hold them back, "Yes Mother." he said. And once again, Narcissa hugged him tightly and covered his reddened cheek in numerous kisses. And that was the first time Draco closed off a piece of his heart.

And so now he was here, he wanted to see the little stick that filled his nostrils with that wonderfully obnoxious smell. Young Draco pulled open a drawer and observed a small, rectangular silver box with a snake gracing it's cover. He opened it, and inside were little white sticks called cigarettes. Draco pulled one out and smelled it, there was no smell. Then he saw the box of matches. He struck it and held it to the tip of the stick. It burned. It smoked. It reeked. And he loved it. The tip was slowly burning down, turning to gray ash, the same gray as his eyes. He raised it to his lips and inhaled, the hot smoke burned his mouth and throat all the way down to his lungs. Draco hacked and tried to muffle the sound with his sleeve, how terrible this feeling was! But he inhaled again, and again, and again.

***

The rain began to come down harder outside of Hogworts', causing a sheet of water to cascade down the slanted roof of the castle down to overly saturated ground. Draco sighed and rolled onto his side so he could see his clothes trunk. Inside of that trunk was just about everything he held dear, which wasn't much. A few robes, all black and green of course, some ties, an assortment of candies his father would send him during the holidays, some pajamas, socks, your basic travel necessities; cigarettes included. There was...one thing however, that Draco treasured more than anything in the entire world. It made him smile just to think about it. It was the Chocolate Frog Hermione had given him for Christmas. It still sat, relatively uneaten, encased in a green velveteen bag inside of that trunk.

Draco's scowl was replaced by a pained expression; how terrible he had been to her, his Hermione. For the first 6 years of their Hogworts career he had been nothing but downright nasty. But, was it really his fault he was a cold-hearted jack ass? Not that he wanted to point fingers, but he blamed his father, Lucious Malfoy. The arrogant, vicious, angry man he had been raised to respect and fear, but never love. It was never allowed to love in his household; though his parents were married, he wondered if it was really out of affection or just convenience. He assumed the second. Draco grunted, how often he tried to climb on his fathers lap and observe his work, give him bed time kisses and draw him pictures...Lucious had always pushed him away or told him to stop being a baby, that such things were, ' childish' and, 'not the sort of things other Death Eater children did', Draco didn't understand the meaning of Death Eater at the time, but he had learned rather quickly. Through many sessions of dueling and beatings and yelling Draco had learned emotions were petty and unnecessary.

***

"Again!" Lucious cried out, returning to the basic dueling position.

10 year old Draco coughed and rolled onto his stomach, every inch of his being was racked with pain.

Lucious rolled his eyes and stalked over to his son, "I said UP!" he growled, kicking Draco onto his back. Draco cried out in pain and coughed up a small spatter of blood.

"Hopeless..." his father scowled, "...and you call yourself a Malfoy..."

The platinum-haired child groaned as a small tear leaked out of his eye, "P-please father..."

Lucious kicked him again, but harder, "I'm not done speaking to you boy! And stop blubbering, Death Eaters don't cry!"

A small sob racked Draco's bruised body, "I-I'm not a-a Death Eater..."

Lucious's eye's flashed, "What did you say?"

Draco shut his eyes tightly and prepared himself for another blow, "I SAID I'M NOT A DEATH EATER! I DON'T WANT TO BE A DEATH EATER!"

To his surprise, no blow came. Instead his father began to laugh, "Maybe I was wrong about you...you truly are a Malfoy!" he chuckled, "You are stubborn and a pain in my arse." he gave Draco a swift kick to his rib cage, hearing one of them break with a snap. Draco screamed in pain, the tears flowing freely now.

"P-please father...stop...!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU KNOW HOW DEATH EATERS BEHAVE!" Lucious roared, grabbing Draco by the collar of his shirt and lifting him up roughly to his feet. Draco swayed and nearly fell back down, clutching his ribs, "First position boy." Lucious said again, getting into a crouch. Draco coughed and tried desperately to bend his knees, but the pain in his chest was to great and he fell against his father' chest . He tried to breathe, but every inch of him was in pain. It hurt to merely shut his eyes.

His small hand came up and clutched his fathers black robe as he buried his bruised face into the silk like material, "Please father..." he said quietly again, "...please...let me rest...just for a moment...it hurts..."

Lucious sighed and rested a hand on Dracos' shoulder and pushed him back gently. The young boy sniffled and wiped off what he now realized was a bloody nose. His fathers wand came underneath his chin to tilt it up so he could look into his gray eyes, "You need to learn," Lucious said softly, " that your enemies will give you no mercy my son...so neither will I ."

"Y-your not my enemy..." Draco growled, staring angrily at the floor, "...your my father."

Lucious smirked, "In this training room my son, there is no difference. Throw away your emotions, throw away pain, throw away all feelings you have ever known."

"And become like you?!" Draco spat out, "I am not a Death Eater! I'm not even in Hogworts yet! I want to be a kid-"

The young boy was smacked to the floor by his fathers wand, leaving a long bruise across his face.

"YOU WANT TO BE A MUGGLE, BOY?!" Lucious screamed, "YOU DON'T REALIZE YOU ARE A RARE BREED! YOU ARE A PURE BLOOD! I HAVE SACRIFICED FOR YOU! YOU WILL BE GRATEFUL! NOW FIRST POSITION!"

That was the moment Draco shut off all of his heart. His seer eyes no longer saw love, or pain, or anger...Draco from then on could feel nothing. Nothing but hate. He pushed himself up with shaky arms and finally rose to his feet. Draco turned to meet his fathers unwavering gaze as he crouched into the first dueling position, "First position..." Draco repeated.

***

Draco's eyes snapped open, he had fallen asleep. The rain was no longer falling as hard and instead was coming down in a light drizzle. The sky was a murky gray color, 'The color of my eyes...' he thought gloomily. He sat up and rubbed his wet eyes, he had been crying in his sleep. It as about 6 o'clock at night, dinner was going to be served soon. He rose to his feet and began to walk out of his dorm and towards the great hall. He made his way down the stairs and into the brightly lit room where he spied Harry, Ron and Hermione. Just the sight of her made his heart swell. Draco walked over and embraced her tightly from behind, burying his face in her dark, wavy hair. Even she was surprised by his abruptness.

"Draco?" Hermione asked, "What's the matter?"

He looked up, his gray eyes filled with warmth as he looked upon his once enemies, now somewhat friends. His heart realized what his Seer eyes knew all along. Without love, beautiful gray eyes could be as ugly as cigarette ashes.

~Fin~