Thank you Catmint and LPI3 for your reviews, they are very, very, very much
appreciated. * Smiles manically*.
I have added another few paragraphs to chapter 2, so depending on when you read it, you might want to check it out again.
I would like to know if people want a Hermione/Draco relationship...cause I am, as of yet, undecided, so your opinions would be very much appreciated.
* kneels and begs *
Oh yeah, and please tell me if it is any easier to read. And there is mild drug use in the chapter so don't read if it offends you in anyway, pretty please, cause I don't want to upset any body.
Your humble "author" xxx
And he was gone ...
That night, while he slept, Draco had a very strange dream.
*** He was lying on his bed at the manor when, suddenly, his window flew open and small pieces of parchment flew through it and swirled around the room. He leapt off his bed and picked one of them up, he stared at it for a moment then let it go quickly when he realised the words were written in blood. He waded through the mass of paper, seeing ominous words jumping out at him from the mass of letters. His door opened and his father stood in the door frame, staring silently at him. Instantly, the parchment flew with immense force. Lucius was knocked clean off his feet. The door swung closed behind him, leaving Draco standing in the room alone.***
He woke up remembering the dream vividly and wondering what it meant..."Hang on," he thought, "what it means? Since when did I believe in all that crap?"
He was searching for a meaning, for some justification for the way he felt...for some kind of solution to his problems...but it wasn't there. There was nothing. No hope. No sun on the horizon. No light at the end of the tunnel. Just dark. Just a doomed life.
In less than two months time he would turn 17. He would receive the Dark Mark. It would be the beginning of the end.
"The end..." he thought to himself, "the end...this really is the end...there is nothing after this. Up until now there was hope, hope of someway out, still time to change, to make things right...but now it's too late"
He wanted to scream, to cry out, to tear himself apart until he was beyond pain...beyond fear...beyond feeling...beyond thought...beyond emotion...beyond life.
He lay there, between the cool sheets for several more minutes before forcing himself to rise from the delusion of comfort. He walked over to the mirror as the far side of the room by the window. He stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He was tall and thin, but well built, probably from years of Quidditch and running for his life frequently. A mass of scars and newly healed wounds criss-crossed his back, stomach and legs, along with countless bruises, marring his pale skin. "Occaeco," he muttered, and his wounds instantly vanished.
The next few weeks passed without great incident. Draco sank deeper into his state of callous dejection which, unbeknown to him, had been noticed by several others within the castle. Not only did Draco fail to realise that others had seen a change in him, he failed to notice that there was a change in him at all. His mind was constantly wandering, so much so that he completely overlooked his responsibility of taunting any non-Slytherins.
In the first week of October was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Draco contemplated whether or not to break from his recent role of self- proclaimed social outcast and accompany the rest of his year to the wizarding village. Eventually he decided that there were several things he needed for school, and other things he just needed. Desperately. So, on the third of October he was to be found slumped against the wall in the entrance hall, waiting to leave for the village. After a few minutes Blaise Zabini wandered across and leant against the wall beside him.
"Feeling alright Malfoy?" he questioned, off-handily, "you seemed a bit...distant recently."
"I'm alright, just been a little preoccupied I guess," Draco answered slowly.
Blaise nodded, but eyed worriedly Draco's tired eyes, paler-than-usual skin and empty, detached expression.
The crowd began to move towards the grounds and Draco and Blaise followed slowly at the back of the group. They meandered down past the lake and out of the gates and made their way towards Hogsmeade. They arrived in the blustery rain street just as rain began to splatter upon the ground. They pulled their cloaks tight about them and bowed their heads against the wind.
"Shall we go to The Three Broomsticks first and warm up a bit?" Blaise suggested through chattering teeth. Draco looked at his wristwatch, "Erm.....it's nearly 11 o'clock, I have to meet some one in a few minutes.," he said, shivering.
"Who are you meeting?" Blaise asked, curiously.
"Just a friend from the village, I need to pick up some things..." Draco trailed off.
"You confuse me more by the minute mate..." Blaise muttered in reply, but followed Draco as the same.
They walked down the street and out of the main part of the village and down a small side street close to the hogshead pub and several other less desirable aspects of the village. At the end of the deserted street a man leant against the stone wall beside the door of what appeared to be a shop selling many different sorts of candles.
"Mal," Draco said sharply as he stopped abruptly before the man.
"Alright Draco," the man replied.
Blaise stood on the sidelines, mildly shocked at the appearance of the man. He was clad in poor robes, patched and frayed in certain places and a very faded colour, which might once have been blue. He was unshaven and had ragged brown hair around shoulder length and he wore a worn greenish hat. He did not look up when he spoke but stared continuously at the floor and dragged heavily on a cigarette.
Draco said nothing but pulled a out his wallet and counted out 15 gold galleons and handed them over to the man who was called Mal. Still the man did not look up from the floor but took the money, thrust it into his pocket and withdrew a small paper bag which he handed over to Draco.
"Thanks a lot mate," said Draco, and a shadow of a grin flashed across his face.
With that, they turned and left, Blaise looking completely bemused.
"Draco, what the hell was that about?" he asked, turning his head back to the space where the man had stood only moments before, then back to Draco.
"He was just doing me a favour," Draco quickly replied.
"What sort of favour," asked Blaise shrewdly, becoming suspicious.
"The sort of favour that saves my life for the next few months," said Draco, shortly. Blaise began to interrupt but was cut short, "Just drop it will you, and stop looking at me like that."
Blaise dropped his eyes to the ground and bit his lip, forcing himself to keep quiet. He was puzzled, but has a hunch about what was going on...
They stopped off at the apothecary to pick up some potion supplies before making their way to The Three Broomsticks to warm up with some butterbeer.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, occasionally sipping their drinks before Blaise suddenly broke the unnatural quiet.
"Look Draco, please tell me what's going on, you've been acting differently recently, and now this? What on earth is wrong with you?"
"I have been acting differently but I have not changed. I am just giving up on the act, it isn't worth it any more, and this," he signalled to his pocket in which resided the small, brown packet, "is certainly not new or changed."
Blaise simply gaped. He had always known Draco to be different to what everybody thought, but even he had thought Draco to be conceited, even if he knew he did not believe in the superiority of purebloods as much as everybody thought.
"Let's go back to the castle," said Draco, draining the rest of his glass.
Blaise sat and stared at him for several seconds until Draco snapped his fingers in front of his face.
"Come on man, get moving."
Blaise shook his head slightly and got too his feet, pulling on his cloak as he stood, then followed Draco out of the door into the bitter cold outside, still feeling somewhat dazed.
***
Draco sat in his bedroom later that night, pondering starting his Transfiguration homework, but in stead flicking through that book...
He read over what he had written the previous night, strangely proud of it. He began to write more, again hardly knowing where the words came from. He sat and wrote for hours. Sometimes poetically, sometimes just random thoughts. After hours, although he has by no means run out of things to say, he decided he had better stop before he filled the entire book.
It was now close to 2 o'clock in the morning now, but Draco was by no means tired.
He took the small paper bag which he acquired earlier that day and shook a small amount of the contents into a glass on his bed side table. He filled the glass with water from the jug beside the window and pointed his wand at it. The water soon began to boil. He held it close to his faces and breathed in slowly.
He felt himself becoming light-headed...
The room began to spin...
The colours began to swirl...
The bed he was sitting on began to melt and he fell to the floor...
The walls began to disintegrate before his eyes, forming twisted patterns like melted wax...
He felt something hot on his shoulder and looked up...
Drops of the ceiling were falling down onto him...
He was drowning in a see of soft bliss...
And he was gone...
Notes: the drug Draco is taking is henbane, it's hallucinogenic and can cause a temporary coma, but is not illegal.
I have added another few paragraphs to chapter 2, so depending on when you read it, you might want to check it out again.
I would like to know if people want a Hermione/Draco relationship...cause I am, as of yet, undecided, so your opinions would be very much appreciated.
* kneels and begs *
Oh yeah, and please tell me if it is any easier to read. And there is mild drug use in the chapter so don't read if it offends you in anyway, pretty please, cause I don't want to upset any body.
Your humble "author" xxx
And he was gone ...
That night, while he slept, Draco had a very strange dream.
*** He was lying on his bed at the manor when, suddenly, his window flew open and small pieces of parchment flew through it and swirled around the room. He leapt off his bed and picked one of them up, he stared at it for a moment then let it go quickly when he realised the words were written in blood. He waded through the mass of paper, seeing ominous words jumping out at him from the mass of letters. His door opened and his father stood in the door frame, staring silently at him. Instantly, the parchment flew with immense force. Lucius was knocked clean off his feet. The door swung closed behind him, leaving Draco standing in the room alone.***
He woke up remembering the dream vividly and wondering what it meant..."Hang on," he thought, "what it means? Since when did I believe in all that crap?"
He was searching for a meaning, for some justification for the way he felt...for some kind of solution to his problems...but it wasn't there. There was nothing. No hope. No sun on the horizon. No light at the end of the tunnel. Just dark. Just a doomed life.
In less than two months time he would turn 17. He would receive the Dark Mark. It would be the beginning of the end.
"The end..." he thought to himself, "the end...this really is the end...there is nothing after this. Up until now there was hope, hope of someway out, still time to change, to make things right...but now it's too late"
He wanted to scream, to cry out, to tear himself apart until he was beyond pain...beyond fear...beyond feeling...beyond thought...beyond emotion...beyond life.
He lay there, between the cool sheets for several more minutes before forcing himself to rise from the delusion of comfort. He walked over to the mirror as the far side of the room by the window. He stared at his reflection in the mirror.
He was tall and thin, but well built, probably from years of Quidditch and running for his life frequently. A mass of scars and newly healed wounds criss-crossed his back, stomach and legs, along with countless bruises, marring his pale skin. "Occaeco," he muttered, and his wounds instantly vanished.
The next few weeks passed without great incident. Draco sank deeper into his state of callous dejection which, unbeknown to him, had been noticed by several others within the castle. Not only did Draco fail to realise that others had seen a change in him, he failed to notice that there was a change in him at all. His mind was constantly wandering, so much so that he completely overlooked his responsibility of taunting any non-Slytherins.
In the first week of October was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year. Draco contemplated whether or not to break from his recent role of self- proclaimed social outcast and accompany the rest of his year to the wizarding village. Eventually he decided that there were several things he needed for school, and other things he just needed. Desperately. So, on the third of October he was to be found slumped against the wall in the entrance hall, waiting to leave for the village. After a few minutes Blaise Zabini wandered across and leant against the wall beside him.
"Feeling alright Malfoy?" he questioned, off-handily, "you seemed a bit...distant recently."
"I'm alright, just been a little preoccupied I guess," Draco answered slowly.
Blaise nodded, but eyed worriedly Draco's tired eyes, paler-than-usual skin and empty, detached expression.
The crowd began to move towards the grounds and Draco and Blaise followed slowly at the back of the group. They meandered down past the lake and out of the gates and made their way towards Hogsmeade. They arrived in the blustery rain street just as rain began to splatter upon the ground. They pulled their cloaks tight about them and bowed their heads against the wind.
"Shall we go to The Three Broomsticks first and warm up a bit?" Blaise suggested through chattering teeth. Draco looked at his wristwatch, "Erm.....it's nearly 11 o'clock, I have to meet some one in a few minutes.," he said, shivering.
"Who are you meeting?" Blaise asked, curiously.
"Just a friend from the village, I need to pick up some things..." Draco trailed off.
"You confuse me more by the minute mate..." Blaise muttered in reply, but followed Draco as the same.
They walked down the street and out of the main part of the village and down a small side street close to the hogshead pub and several other less desirable aspects of the village. At the end of the deserted street a man leant against the stone wall beside the door of what appeared to be a shop selling many different sorts of candles.
"Mal," Draco said sharply as he stopped abruptly before the man.
"Alright Draco," the man replied.
Blaise stood on the sidelines, mildly shocked at the appearance of the man. He was clad in poor robes, patched and frayed in certain places and a very faded colour, which might once have been blue. He was unshaven and had ragged brown hair around shoulder length and he wore a worn greenish hat. He did not look up when he spoke but stared continuously at the floor and dragged heavily on a cigarette.
Draco said nothing but pulled a out his wallet and counted out 15 gold galleons and handed them over to the man who was called Mal. Still the man did not look up from the floor but took the money, thrust it into his pocket and withdrew a small paper bag which he handed over to Draco.
"Thanks a lot mate," said Draco, and a shadow of a grin flashed across his face.
With that, they turned and left, Blaise looking completely bemused.
"Draco, what the hell was that about?" he asked, turning his head back to the space where the man had stood only moments before, then back to Draco.
"He was just doing me a favour," Draco quickly replied.
"What sort of favour," asked Blaise shrewdly, becoming suspicious.
"The sort of favour that saves my life for the next few months," said Draco, shortly. Blaise began to interrupt but was cut short, "Just drop it will you, and stop looking at me like that."
Blaise dropped his eyes to the ground and bit his lip, forcing himself to keep quiet. He was puzzled, but has a hunch about what was going on...
They stopped off at the apothecary to pick up some potion supplies before making their way to The Three Broomsticks to warm up with some butterbeer.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes, occasionally sipping their drinks before Blaise suddenly broke the unnatural quiet.
"Look Draco, please tell me what's going on, you've been acting differently recently, and now this? What on earth is wrong with you?"
"I have been acting differently but I have not changed. I am just giving up on the act, it isn't worth it any more, and this," he signalled to his pocket in which resided the small, brown packet, "is certainly not new or changed."
Blaise simply gaped. He had always known Draco to be different to what everybody thought, but even he had thought Draco to be conceited, even if he knew he did not believe in the superiority of purebloods as much as everybody thought.
"Let's go back to the castle," said Draco, draining the rest of his glass.
Blaise sat and stared at him for several seconds until Draco snapped his fingers in front of his face.
"Come on man, get moving."
Blaise shook his head slightly and got too his feet, pulling on his cloak as he stood, then followed Draco out of the door into the bitter cold outside, still feeling somewhat dazed.
***
Draco sat in his bedroom later that night, pondering starting his Transfiguration homework, but in stead flicking through that book...
He read over what he had written the previous night, strangely proud of it. He began to write more, again hardly knowing where the words came from. He sat and wrote for hours. Sometimes poetically, sometimes just random thoughts. After hours, although he has by no means run out of things to say, he decided he had better stop before he filled the entire book.
It was now close to 2 o'clock in the morning now, but Draco was by no means tired.
He took the small paper bag which he acquired earlier that day and shook a small amount of the contents into a glass on his bed side table. He filled the glass with water from the jug beside the window and pointed his wand at it. The water soon began to boil. He held it close to his faces and breathed in slowly.
He felt himself becoming light-headed...
The room began to spin...
The colours began to swirl...
The bed he was sitting on began to melt and he fell to the floor...
The walls began to disintegrate before his eyes, forming twisted patterns like melted wax...
He felt something hot on his shoulder and looked up...
Drops of the ceiling were falling down onto him...
He was drowning in a see of soft bliss...
And he was gone...
Notes: the drug Draco is taking is henbane, it's hallucinogenic and can cause a temporary coma, but is not illegal.