Author's note: Reviews are greatly appreciated, and constructive criticism is even better. : )
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Hogwarts, finally. I rule this school, with the exception of Potter. Back to stupid Potter. Maybe I should stop thinking about him; that should make him go away. In the dining hall we watch the sorting hat, and welcome the new Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle are sitting on either side of me, and everyone looks at me as king of Slytherin. Even the new ones take notice, though many of them are also taking notice of the idiot Boy-who-lived. I feel sick. I want to leave this hall, quickly and abruptly, but I suppose I will wait. I wouldn't want to run into anything, or cause attention to myself in any negative way. Soon enough we will return to our dormitory, and as always, our belongings will already be there.
The window by my bedside faces the courtyard. I can see the other houses from this perch, and all of the lights are out. Some lone figure sits at the window across from mine. Perhaps we are both phantoms of this night, cut from the same cloth. I almost feel that the figure is staring back. The moonlight shines dimly, and casts a silver sheen upon my blond hair, and upon the ground below. My beautiful hawk owl flies from me to find his midnight meal. I almost pity the mouse he shall find; I feel that it is I.
As always, we have Potions with Gryffindor. This is the only class that I truly enjoy, perhaps because Professor Snape is teaching it, and never lets Potter get away with anything. Potter and company sit farther back, and it is not the easiest task to glance back without getting noticed. Stupid Potter would think that I was enamored. That wouldn't be right, would it? I'll just concentrate on my potions, and hope Potter will make a fool of himself.
Hah ha! Stupid Longbottom has found another way to melt his bloody cauldron. Professor Snape doesn't seem too amused by the whole ordeal, and so, naturally, five points are taken from Gryffindor. I snicker, and Crabbe and Goyle follow my lead. Ah, I grow more and more tired of their company as the years progress. I don't know why I put up with them. Potter and I exchange looks of hatred. Yeah, Potter, make that face again. It looks nice on you. Hatred definitely becomes you.
I received a letter from Mother and Father today. They sent me a package filled with all sorts of things. The owl had a hard time carrying it. Why do they still do this? I am not a child anymore. Sometimes I wish that they would just leave me be. Father also wants me to prepare. He said that in the note. It would be foolish to ask what for.
My Dearest son,
Father and I miss you dreadfully. I hope that everything is perfect as always. Keep up the good marks, all right? I don't want to get another one of those notes saying how poorly you've done. I will send you some more sweets the next time I write.
Love, Mummy
Draco,
You had better prepare. I expect to find you present at the next meeting. You know I have big plans for you.
Father
I am not sure which one I like better. Mother is doting and childish, and Father is stern and strict. Neither letter made me feel very good. Father knows fully well that I cannot go to that meeting. If I were found out, I would be expelled. That would ruin everything.
It's not as though I want to go through with the plan. I have to, or else I will ruin everything. Besides, It doesn't matter what I think. It is about honor, and I will do what is expected of me, no matter what the cost. As for the others in this world, they don't even understand the basis of this feud. Our family does; We were the ones who had our honor stolen from us. We, who were cursed with the meaning of our name. This feud has hundreds of years upon any "light" soldier who challenges it. Potter doesn't know anything; he wasn't even raised in this world. All of those opposing us, they don't even understand what Voldemort stands for. But we Malfoys do; we were there. Now the fight for honor comes upon us. We are not bad people; after all, we are standing up for what we believe in. The good side is tainted with Muggle attitudes and blood. They don't understand how we are the privileged class. After all, we have powers that Muggles can't even grasp in imagination. Muggles treat us as pariahs. Why should we revere them?
Between classes, Potter, Weasley and Granger always seem to be up to something. They are always snooping around, figuring out things here and there. It is relatively simple to get them in trouble; they always seem to be where they shouldn't be. If only all of the other professors were like Professor Snape. "Harry Potter-- Our new Celebrity ." I see right through that, and I always have. He is not the hero that everyone thinks he is. He is weak, foolish, and ever so alone. Sure, he has friends, and fans, but what is all that anyway? Something is missing, and I know what it is. He doesn't want this fame, and he doesn't know how to deal with it. Modesty, hah! If I were that famous, I would walk proudly, not like I was trying to hide. I think that that is what I loathe the most about him; he has everything I never had, and doesn't even want it.
I need to write to Father and Mother. Father will be very disappointed in me, but I will just tell him that it would help the plan better if I don't attend the meeting. After all, the plan does not directly involve anyone there, so why bother? Only Father and I know anyway, after all It was my idea. I just don't think I can go through with it. Perhaps life would just be better if I threw myself from the castle walls right now. I want to run away. I suppose I need to get my priorities straight. Voldemort just seems like the easiest means to an end. Perhaps the end I am looking for is mine.
No. That's not it. I suppose that these hours are hardest. It is an early morning kind of feeling. We all lie in perpetual darkness. Soon enough the ignorance of night shall be cast off, and daylight shall come upon us. Potter shall not have the glory of this victory.
Nights and nightmares. They seem to go hand in hand with me. I have no trouble slipping into the darkness, but those dreaded images of things that could happen, that would happen; Oh, how they haunt me so.
Potter, Potter, Potter. Everywhere I go I am haunted. Even in my dreams. Stupid Potter, why can't you just leave me alone. Why are you present even in my dreams?
You should never have refused me. I would have been your greatest and most loyal ally, yet you shot me down. You of all people, You, Potter the magnificent, refused me. I grew up speaking your name, I worshiped you, and you threw that all away. It is as though you felt I was worthless. If you had just... I, well I would have been your slave.
Father says I have an obsession. He told me that over the holidays. I suppose it was because I kept talking about how Potter always beats me at everything. Potter is so perfect; it's all really sickening.
"...Everyone loves him. It seems that all you need to do to be famous is have some unsightly scar on your forehead! He always wins..."
"Draco, you have already told me this at least twenty times. Really, you make it sound like you are quite ...fond of him. Don't become too obsessed, It won't pan out the way you want it."
"But...I... Really, Father, that's slanderous!"
Like that can ever be true. Why would I be obsessed with Potter? Well, Mother defends me. She says that this is just healthy rivalry. Leave it to mother to think up such a story. Father says I should watch my feelings more carefully. Our little protagonist, the little savior of the mudbloods and Muggle lovers, and his whole family, they always seemed to cause trouble; take Professor Snape for instance. James Potter had to go off and ruin Snape's pride by saving him. It's bad enough being saved by someone you like; it's even worse being saved by someone you hate.
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Hogwarts, finally. I rule this school, with the exception of Potter. Back to stupid Potter. Maybe I should stop thinking about him; that should make him go away. In the dining hall we watch the sorting hat, and welcome the new Slytherins. Crabbe and Goyle are sitting on either side of me, and everyone looks at me as king of Slytherin. Even the new ones take notice, though many of them are also taking notice of the idiot Boy-who-lived. I feel sick. I want to leave this hall, quickly and abruptly, but I suppose I will wait. I wouldn't want to run into anything, or cause attention to myself in any negative way. Soon enough we will return to our dormitory, and as always, our belongings will already be there.
The window by my bedside faces the courtyard. I can see the other houses from this perch, and all of the lights are out. Some lone figure sits at the window across from mine. Perhaps we are both phantoms of this night, cut from the same cloth. I almost feel that the figure is staring back. The moonlight shines dimly, and casts a silver sheen upon my blond hair, and upon the ground below. My beautiful hawk owl flies from me to find his midnight meal. I almost pity the mouse he shall find; I feel that it is I.
As always, we have Potions with Gryffindor. This is the only class that I truly enjoy, perhaps because Professor Snape is teaching it, and never lets Potter get away with anything. Potter and company sit farther back, and it is not the easiest task to glance back without getting noticed. Stupid Potter would think that I was enamored. That wouldn't be right, would it? I'll just concentrate on my potions, and hope Potter will make a fool of himself.
Hah ha! Stupid Longbottom has found another way to melt his bloody cauldron. Professor Snape doesn't seem too amused by the whole ordeal, and so, naturally, five points are taken from Gryffindor. I snicker, and Crabbe and Goyle follow my lead. Ah, I grow more and more tired of their company as the years progress. I don't know why I put up with them. Potter and I exchange looks of hatred. Yeah, Potter, make that face again. It looks nice on you. Hatred definitely becomes you.
I received a letter from Mother and Father today. They sent me a package filled with all sorts of things. The owl had a hard time carrying it. Why do they still do this? I am not a child anymore. Sometimes I wish that they would just leave me be. Father also wants me to prepare. He said that in the note. It would be foolish to ask what for.
My Dearest son,
Father and I miss you dreadfully. I hope that everything is perfect as always. Keep up the good marks, all right? I don't want to get another one of those notes saying how poorly you've done. I will send you some more sweets the next time I write.
Love, Mummy
Draco,
You had better prepare. I expect to find you present at the next meeting. You know I have big plans for you.
Father
I am not sure which one I like better. Mother is doting and childish, and Father is stern and strict. Neither letter made me feel very good. Father knows fully well that I cannot go to that meeting. If I were found out, I would be expelled. That would ruin everything.
It's not as though I want to go through with the plan. I have to, or else I will ruin everything. Besides, It doesn't matter what I think. It is about honor, and I will do what is expected of me, no matter what the cost. As for the others in this world, they don't even understand the basis of this feud. Our family does; We were the ones who had our honor stolen from us. We, who were cursed with the meaning of our name. This feud has hundreds of years upon any "light" soldier who challenges it. Potter doesn't know anything; he wasn't even raised in this world. All of those opposing us, they don't even understand what Voldemort stands for. But we Malfoys do; we were there. Now the fight for honor comes upon us. We are not bad people; after all, we are standing up for what we believe in. The good side is tainted with Muggle attitudes and blood. They don't understand how we are the privileged class. After all, we have powers that Muggles can't even grasp in imagination. Muggles treat us as pariahs. Why should we revere them?
Between classes, Potter, Weasley and Granger always seem to be up to something. They are always snooping around, figuring out things here and there. It is relatively simple to get them in trouble; they always seem to be where they shouldn't be. If only all of the other professors were like Professor Snape. "Harry Potter-- Our new Celebrity ." I see right through that, and I always have. He is not the hero that everyone thinks he is. He is weak, foolish, and ever so alone. Sure, he has friends, and fans, but what is all that anyway? Something is missing, and I know what it is. He doesn't want this fame, and he doesn't know how to deal with it. Modesty, hah! If I were that famous, I would walk proudly, not like I was trying to hide. I think that that is what I loathe the most about him; he has everything I never had, and doesn't even want it.
I need to write to Father and Mother. Father will be very disappointed in me, but I will just tell him that it would help the plan better if I don't attend the meeting. After all, the plan does not directly involve anyone there, so why bother? Only Father and I know anyway, after all It was my idea. I just don't think I can go through with it. Perhaps life would just be better if I threw myself from the castle walls right now. I want to run away. I suppose I need to get my priorities straight. Voldemort just seems like the easiest means to an end. Perhaps the end I am looking for is mine.
No. That's not it. I suppose that these hours are hardest. It is an early morning kind of feeling. We all lie in perpetual darkness. Soon enough the ignorance of night shall be cast off, and daylight shall come upon us. Potter shall not have the glory of this victory.
Nights and nightmares. They seem to go hand in hand with me. I have no trouble slipping into the darkness, but those dreaded images of things that could happen, that would happen; Oh, how they haunt me so.
Potter, Potter, Potter. Everywhere I go I am haunted. Even in my dreams. Stupid Potter, why can't you just leave me alone. Why are you present even in my dreams?
You should never have refused me. I would have been your greatest and most loyal ally, yet you shot me down. You of all people, You, Potter the magnificent, refused me. I grew up speaking your name, I worshiped you, and you threw that all away. It is as though you felt I was worthless. If you had just... I, well I would have been your slave.
Father says I have an obsession. He told me that over the holidays. I suppose it was because I kept talking about how Potter always beats me at everything. Potter is so perfect; it's all really sickening.
"...Everyone loves him. It seems that all you need to do to be famous is have some unsightly scar on your forehead! He always wins..."
"Draco, you have already told me this at least twenty times. Really, you make it sound like you are quite ...fond of him. Don't become too obsessed, It won't pan out the way you want it."
"But...I... Really, Father, that's slanderous!"
Like that can ever be true. Why would I be obsessed with Potter? Well, Mother defends me. She says that this is just healthy rivalry. Leave it to mother to think up such a story. Father says I should watch my feelings more carefully. Our little protagonist, the little savior of the mudbloods and Muggle lovers, and his whole family, they always seemed to cause trouble; take Professor Snape for instance. James Potter had to go off and ruin Snape's pride by saving him. It's bad enough being saved by someone you like; it's even worse being saved by someone you hate.