Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything, except Lori.

A/N: I am SO sorry I haven't updated in months! I have been really busy with school and personal crap so I haven't had the time to work on this at all (also, I forgot about it for awhile, sorry…) I had the impulse to update it, so here I am, nearly 4 in the morning, working on it. It's all for you guys, so please R&R.  I'm starting to get annoyed by Lori, so I'm trying to use her less in the story. Oh, and no offense to Switzerland! All my respect to the Swiss, I promise. 

Chapter Four: Weeping Willow

            The first thing he noticed was that Malfoy Manor was enormous, with its twisting hallways and abundance of overly large rooms. Voldemort, knowing exactly where he was, chose a door on his left and entered silently. The darkened room seemed to challenge the entrance of the Dark Lord himself as he stepped into the room unnoticed by the owner of the splendid manor. He was busy writing furiously at his desk by the light of only a few dripping candles, muttering incoherent words now and then. Voldemort chuckled softly to himself and spoke, startling Lucius.

"Have you received the ingredients, Lucius?" the silky voice purred.

            Lucius jumped to his feet and upset his inkbottle. He looked down and tried to stop the blood red ink from oozing onto his robes before answering. "I…yes, I have. My son obligingly sent them this afternoon."

            Voldemort smirked. "Yes, yes. Have you completed the potion?" he asked, gliding over to the desk and staring at Lucius.

            Lucius shrunk back a little and replied, "It is finished."

            "I see." Voldemort walked to the far end of the room and examined the bookshelf. After a moment with his back still turned to Lucius, he said, "Tell me, Lucius, why are you lying?"

            Lucius started sputtering. "I…well…"

            "Finish the restorative tonight. And don't think of lying to me again." Voldemort left, closing the door softly behind him.

            Lucius stood in shock for a moment in disbelief, wondering if that had really happened. Suddenly, he grabbed a sheaf of heavy yellow parchment next to his desk and threw it violently across the room, striking a magnificently large glass clock and shattering it. A moment of heavy breathing and a squeak from Narcissa, who had entered the room to see what the commotion was all about, passed and he collapsed back into his black chair.

            "I've just seen the Dark Lord out…what did he want?" Narcissa asked timidly, eyeing the pile of sparkling shards on the burgundy carpet.

            "Nothing," Lucius snapped angrily, brandishing his wand at the pile of glass and constructed it back to its original form. "I must get to the dungeon." With that, he brushed past his wife and stalked off towards the dungeon.

            Narcissa looked at the retreating figure of her husband and sighed quietly. He was getting involved in something very dangerous, she knew. What it was she didn't know, however, but her son was a part of it. Eavesdropping skills came quite in handy sometimes. She knew that her son had aided her father in finding whatever ingredients he needed, but for what she did not know.

            I should write to Draco, Narcissa thought. I need to find out what's going on.

            Narcissa sat down behind the massive desk and tried to find a piece of parchment that wasn't torn or covered in crimson ink. She managed to pull one out of the drawers of the desk and began to write.

Draco,

            I'm very worried. Your father is acting unusually, and I know that you're involved with whatever is going on. To ease my mind, please tell me what's happening. I don't want you to get hurt.

Mother

            Sighing heavily, Narcissa tied it to the leg of a beautiful tawny owl and watched it fly out the window majestically.

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Miles and miles away, Draco was sitting in his common room, muttering to himself darkly. He had received a letter the day before from his father, informing him that Christmas holiday he would be past age eighteen, and become a Death Eater. An excellent gift, Draco guessed his father supposed, considering he himself was such a proud Voldemort supporter. But Draco had no intention of joining that side of the fight. Actually, he wasn't interested in being involved at all, so he remained strictly neutral. Like Switzerland. He was the Switzerland of the wizarding world.

His life has been predetermined. People thought he had the best luck of all by being a Malfoy. Born into a family of wealth, importance, and all things that you could want! It was like a dream to some and a nightmare to Draco. All he really wanted was a normal life, without all the secrets and death threats and Voldemort crap. But no, he was a Malfoy.

Draco stood and exited to common room. He needed to get away for a little awhile. He flung open the door to the common room and hurried out. Thoughts were whirling around in his mind.

Hooded faces…a sizzling black mark burning upon his arms…the low hiss of his master congratulating him…the shining face of his father looking down…

Draco wasn't even paying attention to where he was going. He was running, running far from his common room, far from the castle, far from the lake, until he couldn't run anymore. He collapsed next to a large tree at the far end of the lake, panting and gasping for breath. His side ached dully as he lay there. Caught up in his thoughts and pain, he didn't notice someone approaching him.

"Malfoy?" a tiny, innocent voice said softly.

Draco looked up. It was Ginny Weasley. "What…do you want?" he tried to ask scathingly, menace lost in his labored breathing.

"Are you all right?" she questioned timidly.

"I'm fine," he said shortly, still clutching his side. All he wanted was to be alone, but no. Little Weasley had to be here.

 "Okay…" she said, and resumed her position sitting by the lake peacefully.

This not only irked Draco, it infuriated him. Who does she think she is, hanging around to see him having a nervous breakdown? She needed to go away.

"Get lost, Weasel," he said, controlling his panting breath.

Ginny started, and slowly turned around. "Excuse me?" she said icily.

"I said get lost. Can't you see I'm occupying this place? I don't need your filth contaminating the place," Draco said, regaining his strength as well as sharp tongue.

"If anything is contaminating the place, it's you, Malfoy. I was here first," she declared menacingly, standing and approaching him.

"I don't care if you created this damn spot, you get the hell out of here!" he shouted, completely losing his composure, as he stood up and faced her tiny body.

Draco usually never yelled or swore at a person; it was totally unlike him. Ginny seemed to notice. Her sparkling brown eyes widened with alarm, and he saw her wince at his hostile tone. At this, he could tell Ginny was weighing her options. She could try and make him lose it completely, or she could run. Apparently, she chose the latter, and took off in the opposite direction.

After this, Draco would usually snicker at little, frightened students, but he was too shocked at himself to laugh. He slid down at the base of the tree and buried his head in heads. His life was a mess, and it was showing in his behavior. The cause of this – emotions. Even though Draco honestly didn't care about Voldemort, being forced to show support for him was against who he truly was. He'd been tormented like that for seventeen years, and he was ready to break free from his parents. He had wanted to escape from his life so many times, but he had stayed, out of fear for his life. He just wanted to get away.

Draco shook his head and tried not to think about it anymore. He looked up from his small space on the ground and viewed the area. It was quite nice, actually. A large, ancient willow generously shaded parts of the velvety green grass. The lake met the shore not far away, while silence engulfed the vicinity, shrouding the noise that usually overtook the school. Looking back at the school, he realized how far he'd run. This part of the school was never visited by students, or staff (except, perhaps, Argus Filch). Having cleared his mind of plagued thoughts, Draco thought of Ginny, and her reason for being in this specific spot. Perhaps she, too, was plagued by unwanted thoughts. Draco shook his head. What did he care? She was just a little Weasley girl, incapable of intellectual thought, Draco supposed. What did she have trouble with?

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Ginny hurried through the doors into the castle and dashed to the common room. She was frightened - something she had said or done sparked an unbelievable amount of anger in Draco. He had never yelled before, only threatened in a quiet and collected voice. He never lost it like that. What the hell happened? She knew she shouldn't have run, but she was always uneasy around Draco, and the thought of attempting to comfort him was almost laughable. How had he come upon the same exact spot that she had fled to, after hearing of Harry's strange behavior and Ron's rage? Ginny considered many possible scenarios, but none seemed to fit. Curiosity (and even, possibly, concern?) overwhelmed her, but if she were to do anything it was be as though she were tempting a giant cobra, one that would definitely strike.

"Gin? What's wrong?" Lori asked worriedly as Ginny rushed into the dormitory. Lori had been reading some sort of Muggle magazine, but quickly abandoned it and went to Ginny's side as they took seats on the edge of Ginny's bed.

Ginny looked to Lori. "It's really nothing, I know I'm over exaggerating, but he just sort of freaked me out."

"Who?" Lori demanded.

"Malfoy. I was by the lake, and he came running. He looked all nervous, so I asked him what was wrong. He just started yelling at me, you know? Malfoy never yells." Ginny looked down at her shoes and sniffled.

"Oh, Gin…" Lori put her arm around her and said softly, "Malfoy is probably just severely pissed off about something. Maybe he does yell, and we just don't know it." Lori stopped and asked, "Are you afraid of him?"

"No! Of course not!" Ginny said defiantly. "I was just taken aback. Look, don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want Ron to think I've gone bonkers," she said pleadingly.

The look in Ginny's eyes made Lori agree. She would rather have told Ron that Ginny got so scared after Malfoy merely yelled, but she couldn't break her promise to her best friend. Lori retreated to her bed and continued reading the magazine, watching Ginny search for the perfect nail polish color to apply. She was still shaken up about the whole thing, but she was trying to hide it. Little did she know, Ginny was plotting ways to get Malfoy to explain what was wrong. Before Lori could say anything else, Hermione barged in the room.

            "This is getting out of hand!" Hermione shrieked, stomping into the bedroom.

            Ginny nearly overturned her nail polish bottle. She jumped off the bed and approached Hermione warily.

            "What's wrong?" Ginny said calmly.

            "Harry! That damn temper he's suddenly developed! All I asked was why he hadn't been to Transfiguration class, and he started hollering at me like a maniac! If someone doesn't find out what's wrong with him, I swear, I'll strangle him!" Hermione huffed, and sat on the bed to settle down.

            Ginny glanced at Lori. "Hermione, we're going to Dumbledore. This isn't right. Something's happened to Harry."