Disclaimer: I am not married, have no children, am not fair-haired and my name is most certainly not Joanne Kathleen Rowling.

A/N: OotP has no effect to this fic whatsoever. ***sob*** I refuse to acknowledge the death of my favorite character. (And no, Draco isn't my favorite character, so if you haven't read the 5th book, and I gave you a scare, well you can relax now)

DRACO IN CHAINS

Chapter One: Revealing

"Stupid redhead."

"Empty-brained blondie"

"Freckled little twit"

Harry looked back and forth between Draco Malfoy and his best mate Ron Weasley. Since Potions class had begun that morning the two had not stopped bickering. He himself had joined Ron's side, of course, but he soon got tired of it. And besides, Ron wasn't the one sitting next to Hermione who had continued to kick Harry every time he made a comeback at Draco ("You're going to get into trouble with Snape again!")

"Stupid spoiled brat"

"Moronic, frog-faced imbecile"

"Arrogant, pale-faced dunderhead"

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor"

The whole class, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, looked up as Snape strode to the aisle between Ron and Draco. "For the worst, most stupid comebacks I have ever heard in my entire life," continued Snape, sneering. Draco smiled evilly, and watched with satisfaction as Ron muttered under his breath.

He nodded to Snape, who returned the equally dark smile. Draco watched as the Potions Master walked back to his desk and then continued to stir his potion. Contrary to popular believe, Draco did not pass because of his wealth.

'I'm not stupid, after all.'

A loud snore beside him caused him to smirk at Crabbe, who had fallen asleep while shredding his ingredients.

'Unlike some people I know…'

He looked at the Gryffindor table and saw Potter glaring at him. He sneered back. Contrary to popular belief, he didn't really hate Harry.

He loathed him. 'Well,' he thought. "Not as much as I loathe my father…"

He shook his head. Contrary to popular belief, Draco Malfoy hated his image as the mini-Lucius. He looked up and realized he had spaced out.

He turned his head and saw Potter, who was ready to stand up, and Snape, who was staring at Granger with the most malevolent smile on his face.

And contrary to popular belief, he didn't hate 'mudbloods' because he thought them unworthy and filthy.

He hated them because he was one of them.

***@***

Draco started to mince his wattlebird weeds, trying to ignore the smell. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, with its strong, lemon-like odor that seemed to be mixed with a bit of rose with the faintest hint of what seemed to him like caramel.

However, he still tried to ignore its fragrance for fear it might bring back a memory he had been trying to erase: A memory that still lingered like a ghost in his mind. He remembered that day at the Malfoy Manor, when he was older than four but younger than ten, when he looked up to find his mother looking down at him.

As usual when she was alone with him that cold look was gone from her face. Instead, however, it showed him pain and hurt, so he knew she and his father had fought again. Now that he thought about it, he rather found it amusing how a 'cold-hearted' Slytherin like him recalled being lifted into his mother's arms and rather cherished the moment when he inhaled her perfume, not unlike the wattlebird weeds' smell.

What he did not cherish, however, was the story his mother started to tell him once she had lifted him up from his playroom floor.

"Did you know how you came about, little one? No…no, you didn't, did you?"

He remembered the tearfulness in her voice and then and there, young though he was, he knew that she wanted to tell him something that would change him forever, and that his mother wanted to divulge this secret to him alone.

"When your father married me, my darling, both of us were soldiers for the Dark One. Do you know who he is, Draco?"

And it was amusing, too, how he remembered how he had shaken his head and saw more tears flow from her eyes.

"He is the devil, the monster behind every evil. Your father and I were his, and gladly did we serve him. Did you think we were happy then, Draco? Basking in the blood of the muggles, holding meetings in the darkest of taverns?"

He remembered hearing a bitter laugh from her mouth.

"Yes, my darling Draco, it was pure bliss."

Everything after that came out with hatred from her mouth, and he had clung to her, rather scared. But he remembered every-single-word.

"Until your good-for-nothing father forced me to bear him a child. You know your father's pride, don't you, my son? He couldn't bear to not have an heir. And why should he? He was and is a Malfoy, and he would torture me if he could get a son out of it, because he would inherit nothing from his old man if he had no grandson to present to him!"

Narcissa had fallen, then. Fallen to her knees, young Draco still in her arms. She was crying, and Draco had known she had cried because of her love for him and him alone as her baby.

She rocked them both on the floor, back and forth…back and forth, her tears flowing and flooding the floor.

"So when next the Dark Lord asked him to help kill another muggle village, he brought back with him a baby, with hair silver-blonde as his, a muggle child, whose parents he had killed. That was you, my darling. And he presented you to his father who was too deaf and dumb already to realize I could not possibly have conceived and delivered in three months!

And now, my Draco, now that his father IS dead, and he has his filthy money…he will kill you…You whom I fed, and bathed and played with as if you were my own, simply because you HAVE NO MAGIC!"

Draco recalled being showered with wet kisses from Narcissa, and thousand of promises from her.

"But you will not die, my child. You will have wizardry forced into you for you to live, my son…I will find a way…I promise, Draco…I promise."

***@***

The bell had rung and Draco had hardly noticed. He turned again to glare at Potter, Weasley and Granger as they filed out of the dungeon. He didn't know how he had managed to grow, as a wizard instead of a muggle, didn't know what his mother had done for him to be so, and it was indeed the mere fact that he could do magic despite his hidden identity that made him cringe inside. But that was not what greatly troubled him.

What scared him was his true heredity, and he would burn forever to conceal it... Potter and his sidekicks started for the Charms classroom, but Draco's gray-blue eyes followed them.

…Conceal it especially from the Boy Who Lived

A/N:

I can't say I'm that pleased with this one…but it's my first time to focus on Draco, so I need time to adjust. Sorry if it's lousy, I'll try to make it better! But no flames, those are useless, anyway.

So, click the review button and help me cheer up our dear Dork-o…er, I mean Draco…