Disclaimer~ Once again, I must admit that I do not own any of J.K.
Rowling's characters. Any unfamiliar characters are mine, as well as the
plot.
a/n~ I'm sorry if the first chapter was a little confusing. To explain it a little better, these first two chapters start out with each of the characters in the present tense, and they begin to reflect on what happened in the past. From here on out, the story will be in the past until many, many chapters from now. I think you might be able to distinguish the difference when the time comes. So, just a reminder that each of these two chapters start out in the present, but switch to the past, and remain there for a while. Once again, sorry for the confusion. Also, I apologize if these two chapters sound repetitive, don't worry; the rest of the chapters will be their own, unique chapter!!
Chapter 2
"I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard."
Draco's POV:
I'm going to tell you about a day that changed my life forever. You might know me as Draco Malfoy, archenemy of the infamous Harry Potter, the epitome of the Slytherin House, the son of a death eater. Yeah, well, not anymore. When the story was last left off, I was in my fourth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard in the world had re-risen to power, and my father had returned to him. Now I am in my seventh year at the newly-rebuilt Hogwarts. Yes, newly- rebuilt.
As I'm sure you remember, my house is Slytherin, home of most of the death eaters, and the origin of all of the darkest wizards and witches. Back then, I was quite proud of myself. I was top of my class, excepting Granger, but she hadn't counted, she was only a mudblood. I knew that I would soon be the captain of my house's quidditch team, and I had two of the most intimidating bodyguards that Hogwarts had to offer, though their wit was nowhere near their strength. But I was also arrogant in the fact that all the witches fell head over heels for me, and I knew it.
The truth is, my mind wasn't really as focused on those accomplishments as they were on others. Don't get me wrong, they mattered to me, but, back then, I focused most of my thought on Voldemort's return. I couldn't help it really; "Father" had trained me to the perfect clone of himself. Now that I look back on it, it was sad, really. "Yes, Father, anything you say, Father, I'll go jump of a bridge because you told me to, Father." I grew up in that cold mansion, being taught all of the dark secrets of the "other" side of magic. I was skilled in all of the darker arts known to wizardkind, and I was proud. Its sickens me to remember how weak I was, how stupid I was. What was even stupider, if it could be possible, was when I received the darkmark, willingly.
Father was so proud of his perfect little Draco, and yet demanded that I pledge my life to another. I had never met the Dark Lord before in my conscious memory, but Father told me otherwise. Apparently, He had been to our mansion the day I was born, and had "blessed" my existence. When He came back at the end of my fourth year, and rose to power, Father returned very quickly to Him. Since I had passed the age required to take the pledge, Father insisted that I take it right away. What was I to do but follow his orders, become just like him. I unwittingly pledged my service to Voldemort the week he came back, and I was immediately thrust into the world of deatheaterdom. The pain of the ceremony still lingered, and grew to a blinding flash every time He called me to Him. The malice in His eyes was shocking as he branded me, His hatred spewing from his mouth as He muttered the words of the spell, or, more wisely called, the curse.
The very day I was branded, Father led me out to my first "task". Voldemort had captured several muggles for his new little recruits to practice on. I was told to torture them, until they begged me to finish them off. So, like the perfect little dragon I was, I did as I was told. Flashback: As I raised my wand to the old, graying man, I focused my thought on the purpose of what I was doing. Father stood off to the side, watching his son begin his first torturing. The room was small, cold and dark. The old man was cowering in the corner, frightened out of his mind by what was happening. He wasn't prepared for what was coming.
"Crucio!!!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, a little unsure of what I was doing. However, Father had taught me well, for the curse had struck the man with full force. He immediately doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. He held his scream inside, but only for a moment. He began crying out; just wailing as if he thought it would ease the pain. Then he looked up at me, still shrieking, and I saw his eyes. Such agony and such despair were pouring out of them with each tear. He looked at me as I held the curse on him, slowly breaking him, with almost pity in his eyes. The irony of it all, that a small fifteen year old boy could bring an older man to his knees without breaking a sweat.
I began to falter, the power radiating through me less potently. I realized, as the man collapsed and fell to the ground, that I had just inflicted lethal pain on another human being. I had just killed a man who might have had kids, a wife, and friends. The man lying dead beside my feet, had been alive only moments ago, and it was my fault that he wasn't anymore. I stood in shock for a few moments before Father came towards me.
"Well done, Draco, you have proved your loyalty. Come now, you must return home, you have done more than enough for today." he said, quite indifferently. I looked up at him numbly, as the realization of what I had just done swept over me. I stared at him, open-mouthed, as I was led outside the room, and dissaparated home. I will never forget the look in the man's eyes as he began to fall to the ground. They will haunt me for as long as I live.
After that day, I never killed another innocent. I made excuses to Father, telling him I wasn't ready for it. He reluctantly agreed, realizing I was, after all, very young. But I still aided the deatheaters. I became a secretary of sorts. Voldemort required me to keep records of all that we did, and to coordinate each meeting place and time. I dedicated myself to being useful, and making up for my weakness, for that's what I thought it was at the time. I pushed away my feelings of disgust, never admitting even to myself that I did not, could not believe that killing innocents, no matter how impure they were. So I threw my heart into my other work. School had been suspended, as the Board of Supervisors deemed it unsafe. So many muggle-borns were being kidnapped, and taken to work camps, I knew because I was in charge of the records, though I refused to ever go to any of them, I was too frightened of what I saw there.
But all of that changed quickly. Near the end of what would have been my fifth year at Hogwarts, I was visiting a cousin of mine, several hours from home. I was summoned by owl to return home as quickly as possible. I disaparated home to find Father sitting on the couch near the fireplace I our parlor, staring at absolutely nothing.
"What is wrong Father, what has happened?" I asked, for I knew from his blank stare as I arrived, something big had happened. That's when I noticed the sound of one of our house elves wailing in the kitchen. Since Father had not moved a muscle, I followed the sound through the corridors, into the kitchen. I wasn't anywhere prepared for what I found. My mother, my beautiful mother lay on the floor, in a pool of her own blood. Her face was battered, black and blue, and the blood seemed to seep from the back of her head.
It was at that moment that I felt what it's like when time stands still. I stood there, shocked, and could not bring myself to move. Almost instantly, I fell to my knees and gently lifted her limp form into my lap. I held her in my arms, feeling her pulse, amazed that there was still a hint of one. Miraculously, her eyes fluttered open.
"Mother, who did this to you?!?" I cried, anxious to know what happened.
"My son, my beautiful son." she whispered in gasps of air. She tried to smile up at me, but she then chocked up blood. "I love you, Draco." she struggled with each word.
"I love you to, Mum. Please, tell me, what happened?" I struggled to keep myself from yelling in my rage. She began to sputter out more words, barely audible.
"My son.you must.. look in the bottom.of my..trunk.find the little. green book. You must. read it. I'm fading, Son. Never. forget.goodbye, love." With that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, as her spirit left her body. I sat there, with her still in my arms, all the while screaming at her, "Mum.Mum???? You can't leave me. no!" I began to weep, my tears pouring out of my eyes, threatening to fill an ocean. I wept over her for what seemed like hours, barely noticing the movements of the house elves around me.
I was remembering all that I could of her. My beautiful mother, who was always there for me when Father overworked me, never hurt anyone in her life. She always seemed to carry sorrow in her eyes, yet she would always smile for me. She would always flinch when she learned of my training and my dealings with the deatheaters, and yet she would say nothing. She never showed any affection towards Father, though she obeyed his every command. When I was younger, and Father was away, she would cradle me in her arms, and tell me she loved me. As I got older, she would still at least hug me, and remind me of her love. She had taught me the value of life, how important it was, and I think it was because of her that I could not follow through with any more tortures after that one time. She was my comfort when I came home, and I couldn't face the world without her.
Whoever did this to her would pay. I gently picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her room, noticing that Father still stared at the wall ad I passed. I laid her on her bed. Then I remembered her words, what she had told me to do before she passed. Green book. her trunk. read it. I began to search her room for her trunk, noticing the faint smell of roses coming from the vase on her dresser. I searched and finally found the trunk in the back of her closet. Pulled it out, and quickly unlocked it. Inside, I found many little keepsakes. A photo album, a scarf, several other little odds and ends. And then I saw the book. It was a dark green color, bordered by gold. There was no lock on it, so I opened it to see fading yellow pages. I recognized the flowing script that belonged to Mum, and, as I sat down in middle of the floor, I began to read. The first entry was dated the very day of my birth. I realized that she had kept this diary for almost sixteen years.
"My dear son, Draco, how..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Tadaa!!!!! I know this was a long chapter, but there's so much to write!!! Thank you to my reviewers, I appreciate them. I feel I must warn you that this will be a very long and drawn out story, so please have patience. All comments, suggestions, and questions are highly welcome!!!! The lyrics belong to John Rzeznik, from "I'm Still Here"
a/n~ I'm sorry if the first chapter was a little confusing. To explain it a little better, these first two chapters start out with each of the characters in the present tense, and they begin to reflect on what happened in the past. From here on out, the story will be in the past until many, many chapters from now. I think you might be able to distinguish the difference when the time comes. So, just a reminder that each of these two chapters start out in the present, but switch to the past, and remain there for a while. Once again, sorry for the confusion. Also, I apologize if these two chapters sound repetitive, don't worry; the rest of the chapters will be their own, unique chapter!!
Chapter 2
"I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard."
Draco's POV:
I'm going to tell you about a day that changed my life forever. You might know me as Draco Malfoy, archenemy of the infamous Harry Potter, the epitome of the Slytherin House, the son of a death eater. Yeah, well, not anymore. When the story was last left off, I was in my fourth year at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard in the world had re-risen to power, and my father had returned to him. Now I am in my seventh year at the newly-rebuilt Hogwarts. Yes, newly- rebuilt.
As I'm sure you remember, my house is Slytherin, home of most of the death eaters, and the origin of all of the darkest wizards and witches. Back then, I was quite proud of myself. I was top of my class, excepting Granger, but she hadn't counted, she was only a mudblood. I knew that I would soon be the captain of my house's quidditch team, and I had two of the most intimidating bodyguards that Hogwarts had to offer, though their wit was nowhere near their strength. But I was also arrogant in the fact that all the witches fell head over heels for me, and I knew it.
The truth is, my mind wasn't really as focused on those accomplishments as they were on others. Don't get me wrong, they mattered to me, but, back then, I focused most of my thought on Voldemort's return. I couldn't help it really; "Father" had trained me to the perfect clone of himself. Now that I look back on it, it was sad, really. "Yes, Father, anything you say, Father, I'll go jump of a bridge because you told me to, Father." I grew up in that cold mansion, being taught all of the dark secrets of the "other" side of magic. I was skilled in all of the darker arts known to wizardkind, and I was proud. Its sickens me to remember how weak I was, how stupid I was. What was even stupider, if it could be possible, was when I received the darkmark, willingly.
Father was so proud of his perfect little Draco, and yet demanded that I pledge my life to another. I had never met the Dark Lord before in my conscious memory, but Father told me otherwise. Apparently, He had been to our mansion the day I was born, and had "blessed" my existence. When He came back at the end of my fourth year, and rose to power, Father returned very quickly to Him. Since I had passed the age required to take the pledge, Father insisted that I take it right away. What was I to do but follow his orders, become just like him. I unwittingly pledged my service to Voldemort the week he came back, and I was immediately thrust into the world of deatheaterdom. The pain of the ceremony still lingered, and grew to a blinding flash every time He called me to Him. The malice in His eyes was shocking as he branded me, His hatred spewing from his mouth as He muttered the words of the spell, or, more wisely called, the curse.
The very day I was branded, Father led me out to my first "task". Voldemort had captured several muggles for his new little recruits to practice on. I was told to torture them, until they begged me to finish them off. So, like the perfect little dragon I was, I did as I was told. Flashback: As I raised my wand to the old, graying man, I focused my thought on the purpose of what I was doing. Father stood off to the side, watching his son begin his first torturing. The room was small, cold and dark. The old man was cowering in the corner, frightened out of his mind by what was happening. He wasn't prepared for what was coming.
"Crucio!!!!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, a little unsure of what I was doing. However, Father had taught me well, for the curse had struck the man with full force. He immediately doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach. He held his scream inside, but only for a moment. He began crying out; just wailing as if he thought it would ease the pain. Then he looked up at me, still shrieking, and I saw his eyes. Such agony and such despair were pouring out of them with each tear. He looked at me as I held the curse on him, slowly breaking him, with almost pity in his eyes. The irony of it all, that a small fifteen year old boy could bring an older man to his knees without breaking a sweat.
I began to falter, the power radiating through me less potently. I realized, as the man collapsed and fell to the ground, that I had just inflicted lethal pain on another human being. I had just killed a man who might have had kids, a wife, and friends. The man lying dead beside my feet, had been alive only moments ago, and it was my fault that he wasn't anymore. I stood in shock for a few moments before Father came towards me.
"Well done, Draco, you have proved your loyalty. Come now, you must return home, you have done more than enough for today." he said, quite indifferently. I looked up at him numbly, as the realization of what I had just done swept over me. I stared at him, open-mouthed, as I was led outside the room, and dissaparated home. I will never forget the look in the man's eyes as he began to fall to the ground. They will haunt me for as long as I live.
After that day, I never killed another innocent. I made excuses to Father, telling him I wasn't ready for it. He reluctantly agreed, realizing I was, after all, very young. But I still aided the deatheaters. I became a secretary of sorts. Voldemort required me to keep records of all that we did, and to coordinate each meeting place and time. I dedicated myself to being useful, and making up for my weakness, for that's what I thought it was at the time. I pushed away my feelings of disgust, never admitting even to myself that I did not, could not believe that killing innocents, no matter how impure they were. So I threw my heart into my other work. School had been suspended, as the Board of Supervisors deemed it unsafe. So many muggle-borns were being kidnapped, and taken to work camps, I knew because I was in charge of the records, though I refused to ever go to any of them, I was too frightened of what I saw there.
But all of that changed quickly. Near the end of what would have been my fifth year at Hogwarts, I was visiting a cousin of mine, several hours from home. I was summoned by owl to return home as quickly as possible. I disaparated home to find Father sitting on the couch near the fireplace I our parlor, staring at absolutely nothing.
"What is wrong Father, what has happened?" I asked, for I knew from his blank stare as I arrived, something big had happened. That's when I noticed the sound of one of our house elves wailing in the kitchen. Since Father had not moved a muscle, I followed the sound through the corridors, into the kitchen. I wasn't anywhere prepared for what I found. My mother, my beautiful mother lay on the floor, in a pool of her own blood. Her face was battered, black and blue, and the blood seemed to seep from the back of her head.
It was at that moment that I felt what it's like when time stands still. I stood there, shocked, and could not bring myself to move. Almost instantly, I fell to my knees and gently lifted her limp form into my lap. I held her in my arms, feeling her pulse, amazed that there was still a hint of one. Miraculously, her eyes fluttered open.
"Mother, who did this to you?!?" I cried, anxious to know what happened.
"My son, my beautiful son." she whispered in gasps of air. She tried to smile up at me, but she then chocked up blood. "I love you, Draco." she struggled with each word.
"I love you to, Mum. Please, tell me, what happened?" I struggled to keep myself from yelling in my rage. She began to sputter out more words, barely audible.
"My son.you must.. look in the bottom.of my..trunk.find the little. green book. You must. read it. I'm fading, Son. Never. forget.goodbye, love." With that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, as her spirit left her body. I sat there, with her still in my arms, all the while screaming at her, "Mum.Mum???? You can't leave me. no!" I began to weep, my tears pouring out of my eyes, threatening to fill an ocean. I wept over her for what seemed like hours, barely noticing the movements of the house elves around me.
I was remembering all that I could of her. My beautiful mother, who was always there for me when Father overworked me, never hurt anyone in her life. She always seemed to carry sorrow in her eyes, yet she would always smile for me. She would always flinch when she learned of my training and my dealings with the deatheaters, and yet she would say nothing. She never showed any affection towards Father, though she obeyed his every command. When I was younger, and Father was away, she would cradle me in her arms, and tell me she loved me. As I got older, she would still at least hug me, and remind me of her love. She had taught me the value of life, how important it was, and I think it was because of her that I could not follow through with any more tortures after that one time. She was my comfort when I came home, and I couldn't face the world without her.
Whoever did this to her would pay. I gently picked her up and carried her up the stairs to her room, noticing that Father still stared at the wall ad I passed. I laid her on her bed. Then I remembered her words, what she had told me to do before she passed. Green book. her trunk. read it. I began to search her room for her trunk, noticing the faint smell of roses coming from the vase on her dresser. I searched and finally found the trunk in the back of her closet. Pulled it out, and quickly unlocked it. Inside, I found many little keepsakes. A photo album, a scarf, several other little odds and ends. And then I saw the book. It was a dark green color, bordered by gold. There was no lock on it, so I opened it to see fading yellow pages. I recognized the flowing script that belonged to Mum, and, as I sat down in middle of the floor, I began to read. The first entry was dated the very day of my birth. I realized that she had kept this diary for almost sixteen years.
"My dear son, Draco, how..."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Tadaa!!!!! I know this was a long chapter, but there's so much to write!!! Thank you to my reviewers, I appreciate them. I feel I must warn you that this will be a very long and drawn out story, so please have patience. All comments, suggestions, and questions are highly welcome!!!! The lyrics belong to John Rzeznik, from "I'm Still Here"