Hi everyone! Hope you like the story so far and I'd really appreciate reviews and criticism.

Ms Snuffles

Part 2

Draco seated himself at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall with a feeling of vindictive pleasure flowing through his veins. His eyes crept over to the Gryffindor table where Potter sat with Weasley and Granger.

His eyes lit up with some of the satisfaction he was feeling inside as he acknowledged the memory of his plan. Potter had already destroyed the Prophecy, but Draco knew how he could examine every last detail of it. He smiled to himself again as Dumbledore called for silence, and watching the sorting closely, noted every student that was sorted into Slytherin. He had strategically placed himself away from Crabbe, Goyle and any other of the Death Eater's sons, because he didn't want them pressing him for information. Anyone could be listening here at Hogwarts, and he was even wary about speaking in the privacy of his own room.

He had secured a room of his own this year. Dumbledore knew perfectly well that Draco Malfoy was now a Death Eater, and also a replacement; but he also knew that there was a second, third, fourth and so on. By killing Draco, it would only mean that the eleventh in command would be the tenth. Draco had demanded a separate room, and Dumbledore had seen this as a way to keep him away as much as possible from the rest of the school. He knew Draco would have his own methods of communication to members of the Dark Side, but at least he could do all that was possible to ensure that the entire student body did not panic.

After the start of term feast, Draco sidled swiftly out of the Great Hall towards the far West tower. Nobody saw him leave although regular recipients of his insults were slightly baffled at his absence.

He climbed a wide staircase and then stopped in an empty corridor to the left of the staircase. A solitary portrait hung there just as Dumbledore had said. He looked up at it and grimaced, as he saw that it was an elaborately painted representation of the galaxy. Nine planets were spinning around a fiery sun emblazoned in the centre, comets hurtled in and out of the picture and twinkling masses of stars adorned the pitch-black background like precious diamonds. He snorted at the art, and stroked the edge of the frame to open the room. Emotional depths were not within him to be sounded when confronted with such a beautiful piece of artwork, as he was rarely given the opportunity to feel anything.

Still laughing inside at the inadequacy of the portrait Dumbledore had left him with, he stepped into his room.

It was unlike any room he had ever owned. It was neither exquisitely furbished, nor dreary and Draco felt, though in an odd way, that he was fully alone, peaceful, and home at last.

The few lamps that were lit cast the room into a comfortable, private light and Draco could see a fireplace set into the wall straight ahead of the door, and along the wall above it, four large windows. Towards the right a bookshelf stood flat against the wall, already containing his sixth year books. Lamps adorned the walls at intervals, and drawing his wand, Draco was able to light all of them, so as to see the room clearly. On the left stood a four poster bed, it's back against the wall, and next to it a door led to marble bathroom, similar to the one he was used to in his dormitory, although slightly more spacious. He came back into the main room and noted two soft armchairs by the fireplace into which he sank gratefully after removing his robes; relaxed and off guard at last. Pointing his wand lazily at the stone fireplace, he muttered a spell and the hearth was soon full of leaping flames. He extinguished the lamps around the room and sat, gazing into the dancing flames, as though hypnotised by their flickering, inconstant, random movement.

It was so unlike his own life, he thought as he sat, just watching the flames dying by the hour. Randomness and acting on impulse were yet another thing he was proud he didn't do. The spur of the moment was meant for those who didn't consider the future, or make big plans as he did. For years he had studied the Dark Arts of his own accord, and had now reached a stage of almost mastering them. His qualities in this sense far surpassed his father, and definitely his mother, and he had now achieved what he wanted because of it.

His head nodded as sleep overpowered him. Tilting his head back against the soft padding of the armchair, he fell into a deep sleep; his knees bent sideways up on the chair, arms huddled towards him.

In sleep Draco Malfoy was innocent. Crouched in this foetal position, lost in the realms of slumber even the most evil human being appears innocent. The glow of the fire shone unsteadily on his thin but built frame, highlighting his muscular prominence, evident through the t-shirt and trousers he wore under his robes. The flickering flames caught snatches of his pale face, pointed and elegantly handsome, and the blond hair that fell with gentle recklessness about this striking face. He was attractive, there was no reservation to that opinion; but when his personality shone through those good looks in waking hours, the longing to draw towards you, this remarkably stunning male, evaporated entirely. His malevolence could not be hidden from his notable physical attributes while he was awake.

When asleep, there was no doubt at all that Draco Malfoy was desirably handsome young man.

Draco woke with a stiff neck and realised with annoyance that he had not slept well in the armchair. He needed to have rested well; these next few weeks would require him to formulate a plan and also study hard enough so he wasn't kicked out of Hogwarts. Ideally, being away from the pressures of schoolwork and exams was exactly what a member of the Dark Side needed, but in order to gain a copy of the Prophecy he had to be in school. He walked groggily across to the bathroom and glanced at his tired face in the mirror whilst brushing his teeth. Lack of sleep only added to the stress that was now embedded in his face, but it was something he had accepted as a pitfall of being a Death Eater.

He glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall as he ran a hot bath. He still had plenty of time before the first lesson started, and he didn't really want breakfast anyway. He pulled off his t-shirt and trousers and stood on the cold tiles in his black boxer shorts waiting for the bath to fill. He had his back to the mirror on the wall, but turned his head to see himself standing there, reflected in the glass. The perfect arches of his pale back tensed as he turned his body to face the mirror and lift his left arm. The Dark Mark was there, as clear as ever, like some loathsome black insect that had crawled under his skin and now leeched the life out of him like a parasite. It was still quite sore, yet the skin was as smooth as it had ever been. He turned quickly and saw that the bath had nearly over flown. Removing his boxers he slid into the warm water and closed his eyes. The warmth was soothing and it was incredibly rare to see Draco this relaxed. His mind was clear and he lay still, ever so still.

His first lesson was Potions, with the Gryffindors. He stalked past the crowd into the dungeon, straight past Potter, Weasley and Granger, who looked slightly puzzled that he hadn't made his usual sarcastic jibe. The truth was that he had forgotten. Recovering himself he stepped back and brought himself eye to eye with Potter, ice blue reflecting green. "I almost forgot to greet you", he drawled "The famous Mr Potter" he turned to Ron, "his red sidekick Weasley", he eyes flickered down to Granger, "and the Mudblood".

He knew the last remark was bound to send Weasley and Potter onto him, and sure enough, wand out, both of them tried to curse him as Granger grabbed their robes to hold them back. But as usual, drawn to trouble like a moth to a flame, Snape appeared round the corner, black robes billowing and strode silkily past the scene of the crime taking 20 points from Gryffindor as he did. Draco smirked and followed him into the dungeon, curses hissing from the Gryffindors behind him. He spent the Potions lesson ignoring everyone and focussing on his idea.

The basic concept was this, he thought doodling on self-destructing parchment, Voldemort needs to hear the prophecy, and I know that Professor Trelawney was the one who had the vision, so I can do either one of two things: make Trelawney tell me, or break into Dumbledore's office and make a copy of the memory I know he has in his Pensieve. Well if I make Trelawney tell me, someone could just as easily find out what information had been extracted from her, and worse still, who had done it. He scribbled out that idea and began quickly noting the next. Breaking into Dumbledore's office may not be as easy, and even if that were accomplished, escaping would be an entirely different matter.

He leant back in his chair, folding up the parchment and slipping it into his pocket. He knew it would ignite at any moment and needed to excuse himself from class before his robes caught fire and the bell rang in ten minutes. His problem was solved for him.

"Draco I have asked you a question three times and yet you continue to ignore me", said Snape approaching Draco's desk. "What have I been teaching you for the past hour and twenty minutes"?

Draco looked up at Snape, a pink tinge appearing in his cheeks from the embarrassment of having all the attention focussed on him.

"Er, was it something about Moonstone?" guessed Draco recalling a vague lesson from late last year.

"You really ought to sort out your priorities Malfoy", said Snape leering down at him, then walking slowly back to his desk. "I do not allow, ah, events outside this classroom to be disrupting your learning if you wish to continue with NEWT standard Potions. Now get out of the classroom. And I want an extra essay from you, to be handed in tomorrow on Magical Concealment Potions. They should be right up your alley", he finished sarcastically.

Draco stalked out of the classroom, ran along the corridor to the nearest window and placed the scrap of parchment near the ledge. Not a moment later the parchment burst into flames, and a few seconds later was being brushed out of the window as smouldering ash. Draco grinned to himself as he stared out of the window, enjoying the peace and quiet of the corridor. He looked across the grounds and took out another piece of self-destructing parchment. He placed an Automatic Quill above it on the window ledge and paused to think. This plan would take longer than he had anticipated. More stealth would be required and a few magical supports wouldn't go amiss either. He had been following Voldemort's example until now and decided that innocent people were indeed the most easy to manipulate.

Draco collapsed onto his bed that evening, closing his eyes in fatigue and exasperation. His homework was finally done, at nearly midnight, but he was far off from being ready to tackle duties of the Dark Side, he was exhausted. He turned over, trying to regain his concentration and blame the lack of it on the first day back stress.

But all to no avail. Much as he struggled to avoid it, adolescence was now catching up with him. Better late than never, normal teenage thought patterns were starting to disrupt his poise. Having never been introduced to feeling them, Draco became angry at not being able to sleep or focus and sat up furiously, head in his hands, hair scuffed. He pressed his eyes with his palms, as though trying to push his thoughts out the back of his head. When this failed, he stood up and raged about his room, throwing his inkbottle at the wall and a sheaf of self-destructing parchment into the fire. Not realising that this would result in a cataclysmic explosion until it had blasted away half his fireplace, Draco sank down to the floor, amongst the chips of stone and wood, unable to fight it any more.

Draco woke and dressed slowly, wanting to deter entry to the Great Hall for as long as possible. His anger from the night before lay strewn around the room as though a hurricane had invaded Hogwarts, and he ignored it, guessing that the house elves would come and clear it during the day. He strode towards the door, not noticing the large puddle he'd left on the floor when he came out of the bath. A second later he lay flat on his face, a stinging pain searing through his cheek, where, upon later examination in the bathroom mirror, he noted a chip of stone had lodged itself into his skin, the break of which was now pouring with blood. Cursing he went opened the bathroom cupboard and took out a herbal ointment and his wand from his robe pocket. Pointing it at the wound he muttered a spell that extracted the stone, though rather painfully. He cleaned it with a pad of cotton wool and water, and then rubbed the ointment on it, wincing as it stung. He rubbed it off again, leaving the cut open to heal now that it had stopped bleeding and walked, rather more carefully out of his room.

Draco lay in bed that night, having skipped dinner again in order to finish his mountain of homework. The teachers had already piled lots of work on the sixth years and insisted that it was essential that they work hard these two years to achieve the best results possible in their NEWTS. However, as Draco lay there contemplating the exams the next year, he realised that if Voldemort reached the full height of his powers soon, there would be no need to stay on at Hogwarts, unless he was specifically asked to. What was the point, he thought, of staying to get qualifications to get a chance to prove myself, when I've already got that chance? I'm not going to blow it, this opportunity, its way too important.

He lay there for another half hour before deciding he couldn't sleep. Dragging himself out of his warm duvet he went and stood by the window on the left hand side of the fireplace, and flinging it open, breathed in the refreshing early autumn air. Closing his eyes and leaning against the pane, Draco relaxed completely, allowing the tension to leave his body.

What he felt everyday of his life was insurmountable pressure. He was clever enough academically to deal with schoolwork; but what he wasn't well equipped to do was to deal with the emotional pain that came with it. Living socially, in the company of other wizards required more than academia, and by immersing himself in the Dark Arts he hoped to avoid that type of social contact. Far apart from avoiding the usual adolescent trauma of boys chasing girls, he was thoroughly aware of the implications of such actions. He had seen the way apparent 'love' had destroyed both of his parents; the forced smiles, and the painful kisses, all because two Pureblood families couldn't stand it if their children married anyone else. By submerging himself completely into the way of life he had chosen, he had unwillingly sentenced himself to force the emotion this way of life carried upon his future. The 'love' was different with every way of life, and he had chosen, without realising, the same one his parents, and countless generations of Pureblood families before him had. The only difference was, he didn't want that 'love'. His ancestors, centuries before him did. All he wanted was power. But humans eventually submit to emotion and feeling, it is part of who they are, and more importantly, of who they become.

Draco tried to regain his poise and disdainful attitude over the course of the following week but struggled terribly. His schoolwork, while easy, was proving to be a hindrance to focussing on issues associated with the Dark Side. He was panicking, something he never did. However small, the adolescent normality was disrupting his plans, and the opportunity he had been given to prove himself was slipping away, and he knew it.

Staring at the page of Potions notes that evening in the deserted library he questioned the state of his mind and doubted everything he had ever told himself, everything anyone had ever told him. Could it possibly be this difficult to stay concentrated on something you really wanted? Something you desired with all your being would surely not allow you to even see the obstacles. He had always blasted anything that stood in his way, out of the way. What was so different with this new emotion? Frustration at his Mother, Narcissa for never realising compassion for her son; anger at his Father for exposing him to the Cruciatus Curse at the age of eleven, causing him so much pain. He had dismissed these emotions to remember what was really important to him, why was adolescence taking such a heavy, longwinded toll on him? He doubted it could possibly get any worse than this.

Stepping out of his room the next morning he felt almost afraid to go into his first class. The isolation his new living quarters had provided, made it possible to avoid people, including girls, especially Pansy Parkinson. He wasn't sure he could face the prospect of as much female attention as he usually received with the burdens he was carrying. With a sigh of relief looking at his timetable, he saw he had double Arithmancy first, and that the only female taking such a male dominated subject at NEWT standard was that jumped up Mudblood, Hermione Granger. He strolled into the classroom, a little calmer than before and placed himself strategically at the back of the class. It was a vantage point for observing people, always sit behind a crowd, that way you're near the exit and have your eye on everyone. He slouched in his seat, appearing at ease to the rest of the world, but on guard as he had been trained to do. Eyes travelling around the room, he noted each head from behind and the face that owned it. As his eyes followed the students on the front row, they lingered on a head he did not recognise. He exercised curiosity as well as caution, waiting for the girl to turn around, so he could put a face to this mysterious new identity.

Professor Vector entered the classroom a few moments later and launched straight into the topic they had begun covering at the start of the year. Draco sat back, disappointed that she hadn't done the register. He didn't have long to brood however, they were soon set a long page of difficult problems, and for about an hour the entire class sat in silence completing them. Draco however, was close to finishing after 30 minutes and as he attempted the last two problems, he knew the only person to put their hand up to ask for more questions would be Granger. He was astonished when the voice that sounded from the front of the classroom telling Professor Vector she had finished her work, did not belong to Hermione Granger.

The entire class, including Granger turned to face this stranger, perhaps acknowledging her presence for the first time. She turned and looked around the classroom, surprised at the sudden attention, and Granger looked rather surprised if not a little flustered. She wasn't egoistic, but this had to have affected her pride a little.

"Get back to work", snapped Professor Vector, "you won't reach the standard that the new girl has reached already".

The class bent their heads quickly and got back to work. All that could be heard for the next half hour was the scratching of quills and the particularly furious one of Granger.

Professor Vector spent the last half hour going through the questions by asking the class at large what the answers were. It wasn't so much a class learning exercise, than a competition between Granger and the new girl as to who could answer the quickest, thought Draco from the back of class, ticking all of his answers.

When the bell rang, Draco swept out of the classroom, stuffing his homework into his bag and hoping to find out the name of the new student and the house she was in. He stood beside the door, inconspicuously watching everyone filing out, until finally he saw her walk out with Professor Vector, clutching a bundle of parchment.

Saying her goodbyes to the teacher she walked off in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room, and Draco, taking a chance, caught up with her.

"Hi" he said, coming up beside her.

She stopped and faced him, and he was pleased to mentally confirm her identity as a Slytherin, noting the badge on her robes.

"Hi" she said, also glancing at his badge.

She stood waiting for some kind of explanation, and he hurriedly continued, "Are you new? I can show you where the Common Room is if you're not sure".

She gave him an appraising sort of smile. "I'm fine, but thanks for asking," she said walking away.

Draco stood for a couple of seconds, analysing this behaviour, and after deciding it was something beneficial he shouted after her to wait.

She paused again, turning her head to wait for him.

He caught up with her again, "aren't we even going to observe the civilities?" he asked giving her a small grin, "if you're part of Slytherin House I'd like to know your name".

She smiled at him again, though a little more warmly. "I'm Cameron Halliwell, and you are"?

"Draco Malfoy" he said offering his hand, "and may I congratulate you on successfully annoying Hermione Granger".

"Oh was that the girl sitting next to me"? asked Cameron smiling again, "yes, she did seem slightly put out at me constantly answering the questions. Is she usually the brains of every class then"?

"Yes" replied Draco rolling his eyes and walking towards the Common Room, "she's a stuck up Mudblood, hell bent on irritating the rest of the student body with her vast amount of knowledge". Draco continued looking at Cameron wearing an expression of mild annoyance. "So where are you from"?

"I'm from Ireland" she replied "I attended The National Irish Institute of Magical Arts before this, but now I'm sixteen, well, lets put it this way, I wore out my welcome".

"Elaborate" said Draco after reciting the password in front of a camouflaged piece of stone wall.

"Do you always ask this many questions"? she asked looking directly into eyes.

"Well, let me put it a certain way, then" said Draco unconsciously touching his left forearm; "I have my own reasons for asking questions about people I've never met".

Her eyes lingered on his arm and he straightened it quickly.

"Wait a week", she said climbing through the hole in the wall, "if I still like you then, you have the freedom to ask me whatever you want. I know I'll be able to trust you, otherwise we wouldn't both be in Slytherin House, would we"?

She disappeared into the Common Room and Draco shook his head in disbelief.

Here was a Slytherin girl with some...real attitude.