He felt the wind blowing in his face and drops of condensation brush pass his cheeks. It felt great to be able soar in the sky with the birds and have a bird's eye view of the world. He felt the blood rush to his head and his stomach clenched and unclenched as he pulled into a dive, plummeted to earth and pull up just in time.
Flying was like drugs to him. It made him happy. Happy enough to forget everything in the world.
Suddenly the wind died down and there was a sudden stillness in the air. It was harder for the broom to slice through the air. The air around him was as thick as toffee. He was no longer moving and for one second, he seemed to be hanging in mid-air.
Then he started to fall. Fall through the heavy air and towards the ground. He closed his eyes, waiting. Waiting for the very second to hit the ground and die.
He watched himself fall, slowly, half-suspended in time. He knew he was dreaming. Things like these always happened. In a few minutes he would wake up, it was always like that. Always. Then he'll sink back into his pool of dread, fear and anxiety. That black stupor.
His falling self flailed his hands, trying to avoid from crashing to the ground. Suddenly, it screamed. A name, a girl's name.
"Draco."
He opened his eyes, blinking out tears. Damn! Why was he crying?
"Draco."
He sat up, slowly, focusing his eyes on the face looming in front of him. His vision was blurred out. By the bloody tears, no doubt. He rubbed his eyes again.
"What do you want?" He said, voice slathered in drowsiness.
"Time to go, honey." The voice said. Sweet, feminine, soothing. Who was it?
Draco tried hard to focus his gaze. The wine he drank the night before was strong, the hangover effect was worst than he had ever experienced before.
"Bl…Blaise?" He said, savouring the name on his lips. It felt good to say it.
"It's your mother, Draco." The voice hardened at the sound of that name.
"Oh."
He remembered. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was take another swig at the amber liquid and open the gates to his dreamland again.
"Time for what?" He asked, remembering what Narcissa had mentioned before he mistook her for Blaise Zabini.
"School." Mrs. Malfoy said, drawing the drapes and standing by the huge window, looking at the rain.
"Oh."
He slid out of bed, trying to prolong his time before going back to that dreaded place. He never liked Hogwarts castle. It was too cheery for him. He preferred the cold, dark halls of Durmstrang.
Another pang of agony hit him. Durmstrang. The last thing he needed now was to remember that all of his friends had transferred there, right after the fall of the Dark Lord. It was the last haven for the offspring of Death Eaters. Not like anyone outside the circle knew.
Draco himself had plans to be with his friends but consequences slashed everything into bits. He had to be in Hogwarts, no matter what. It made him hate his father even more.
"I'll be outside in the carriage." His mother said, gliding gracefully out of the room, "And, Draco?"
Draco turned to face her, inhaling deeply. "Yes, Mother?"
"Forget her." She said, moving down the hallway.
He grabbed the black button-up shirt draped over the back of his chair and slipped it over his shoulders in one graceful motion. He did up some of the buttons and left the rest for later. He was running late.
"But, wait," He thought, "I don't want to go back to that scummy castle. Why should I care I'm a few minutes off schedule?" He smirked and slowed down his pace intentionally, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
Before his eyes was a full-grown man. Quidditch did a boy wonders. It turned him into a man.
"Looking good, Sir," Said the magical mirror, "A new day has begun."
Draco didn't know what he meant by that. Annoyed, he spun on his heel and strode into the bathroom, grabbing a pair of black trousers from the closet on the way in.
"Master Malfoy?"
"What?" He sneered. His voice dripping with venom.
"Master Malfoy," The house-elf squeaked, trembling with fear, "The Madam is waiting in the carriage. She is very angry."
Draco glanced at the quaking figure with hard, steel-grey eyes. He raised one eyebrow and the elf went scurrying out of the room. It was his first visit into the Master's chambers and he was determined to make it the last.
Draco ran his fingers through his platinum-blonde locks, ruffling it up as he massaged his scalp. The throbbing headache soon lessened its torment on his cranium and he released his fingers from its silken prison. He glanced up at the floor-length mirror on the wall, decided that he like what he saw and gave his best sneer. Perfect.
"Time to go," He whispered to his midnight-black owl, Demos. The majestic bird flapped his wings on top his perch and flew out the window. He will reunite with his master in Hogwarts.
The blonde man swept out of the room, picking up his dark cloak at the door. As he strode along the dark hallway he threw on the cloak and pulled the hood over his grey eyes. His black boots clomped noisily on the wooden panelling as he ascended the staircase lazily and strutted out the heavy oak doors into the blinding sunlight.
"I don't see why you take an eternity to put on some clothes," Narcissa said, motioning the horses to start their journey.
"Beauty takes time to perfect." He replied, ignoring her tone of eminent displeasure.
All he heard was 'humph', followed by a string of incoherent words. They sat in silence throughout the journey. Mother and son, facing each other on a set of plush black velvet seats. Sometimes Draco wondered whether they had ever said anything genuinely loving in a mother and son way to each other.
The carriage stopped. Draco could hear the voices and sounds of the outside world bustling beyond his heavily curtained window. He slid his finger between the slit of light and pulled the black fabric apart. It was raining cats and dogs.
"By Merlin," He muttered, "I'm going to get drenched."
"Pierre, get an umbrella for Draco." His mother said, not even looking at him.
Draco ignored her and opened the door, stepping out into the rain. He felt the soft patter of raindrops on his hooded head and onto his shoulders, dripping and trickling down the water-resistant cloth. He stood there, breathing in the moisture-saturated air and exhaling deeply, driving the putrid scent out of his mouth. The professors won't be too happy to catch a cloud of alcohol lingering around his head.
"Master, your umbrella." Pierre, the butler said, holding out the umbrella, ceasing the healthy trickle of rainwater onto Draco's robes. "I'll escort you to the barrier. Mr. Jones will take care of your luggage."
Draco nodded, very slightly and turned back to his mother in the carriage.
"Farewell, Mother," He said, nodding curtly, "I'll see you in the summer, I presume?" With half the numbing alcohol gone from his system, the classic Draco Malfoy-witty remarks were flowing back into his bloodstream.
Narcissa Malfoy looked at her son in the eye, observing his finely chiselled face and steely eyes.
"So happy to leave me. Always the same Draco." She said, "I predict that you will receive news once you arrive."
"News?"
"From your father."
"I have no father."
Narcissa raised her pale, manicured hand and slapped her son across the face. Her black eyes were ablaze in flame as she watched her son cock one silky brow and smirk, the right side of his pale face reddening.
"Farewell." He said, walking away from the black carriage, "I have no father."
"You will regret those words, Master." Pierre said, softly.
"I don't care." Draco replied, continuing his way across the street, hands in pocket. "I have no father, it's a fact. He is dead, to me."
Pierre decided to clamp his mouth shut and lead his young master towards the shelter of the train station.
Draco kept his smirk on his face while he spoke lightly to his lifelong servant, whom he spoke quite often. But inside his emotions were churning. Anger and hurt were the most prominent ones in the rumbling ocean of his heart. He hated Lucius and was angry that his mother chose to defend him. HIM, of all people!
"Leave, Pierre." He said, stopping at the ticket office. "I can find my own way."
His butler bowed and smiled. Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Draco stood still for a few moments, surveying the muggles around him with severe displeasure. He despised them even more when he spotted a group of giggly muggle girls, sizing him up from top to toe. He sneered and clomped off towards the barrier.
He kept his eyes and hair hooded, looking at everyone through dark shadows. He knew he was not going to be hanging around the dark pillars sniggering with his friends. Not with his posse of Slytherins off to some invisible school in Bulgaria. Once again his heart sank.
Then something tickled his nose. The all-so familiar scent of honeysuckle with the spicy twang of cinnamon. The seducing, alluring smell of a certain mane of thick, black hair came wafting towards him, luring him. Draco's eyes snapped up, scanning the crowd. He couldn't see much.
"Damn hood." He cursed under his breath, wrenching the hood off his forehead.
Draco looked around, hoping for the sight of long, silky black hair in the crowd. He spotted it once or twice, but it wasn't her.
"Too short. Not silky enough." He thought as he picked out all the raven-haired girls in the dense river of people in front of his eyes.
The scent came nearer and nearer, till it seemed as though she was standing right in front of him. He looked down. She was.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Cliffhanger! Emm…you would have to wait and see who the two mysterious men in the previous chapters. Let me tell you that they are NOT who you think they are. Hehe. You might notice the sudden changes in Draco's feelings throughout this chapter. Sad, happy, hopeful…Ah wells, that's what I think he is. Moody and unpredictable. REVIEW PLEASE!
DISCLAIMER: Don't tell me you don't know!!