Disclaimer: All to Mrs. Rowling, darlings. Sorry, perhaps in another lifetime.
Warning: Slash eventually, I suppose there's language too. And perhaps OOCness...
Pairing: HPDM
Summary: Christmas' not something Draco looks forward to and this year is, by far, the worse.
Notes: First attempt at HP, here goes nothing. And I didn't quite remember the name of the librarian and of the Death Eaters so I kinda went along.
Chapter one, 'First Mistake'It's ironic how things end up happening when you least expect them. Of course, Fate has indeed a very wicked mind of its own. And once you have your guards down, you're done with it. Game over. One would think you would anticipate the strikes but Fate never does strike when you want her to. Or when you are prepared for her. No, Fate strikes when you finally let you bloody guards down.
For one, I hated the fact that every aspect of my life, from where I stood, sucked and from where others stood, was great. My life isn't great, it never has been. Oh, I won't go as much as to say I was this poor, unfortunate child. I was born with a bleeding silver spoon in my mouth. But then again, not all wealth is made from gold and silver. Not the wealth that counts at least.
From the first day Draco Malfoy was born, a very merry day it was, Lucius Malfoy, his father that is, had his life already planned. All of it. To the first charm he'd learn, to the first hex he'd learn, to his Initiation, to his first mission, to his very first murder, to his first torture, to his first hunt, to his already planned marriage, to the first child he'd make evil...
First words, first steps, first Christmas, first friends, first love. It didn't matter to Lucius Malfoy. All that mattered was that his son followed in the very footsteps he had been stepping in. To some extent, one could say Lucius Malfoy wanted a clone of himself. His wife gave him love when he wanted worshipping, his wife gave him a curious, stubborn child when he wanted a clone, perhaps even a servant ?
No, Lucius Malfoy would never want to soil his own name by calling his son his servant, although, one could claim that is what he was. What I am. But Narcissa Malfoy is as much a part of what made me as he is. Merlin only knows what I've would've done if it hadn't been for her. Probably would've killed him then killed myself. Would've done something stupid.
And, yet, more than often, I found myself seeking his pride, his approval, his support. For all the shit I suffered, I had it fairly never. Still I kept trying and trying, honestly hoping to achieve something that would make him proud. How foolish of me, I know. Though it is a true I was a Malfoy, I was also a child. A child in dire need of any sign of affection from his father. Or pride at the very least.
----
It started the day of Christmas. I hated Christmas. I loved Christmas. That year, I truly despised Christmas. I was staying at Hogwarts. The bloody bastard. He had firmly stated, ordered or else if you ask me, that I was to stay at Hogwarts. Official business he was attending to during the holidays, concerning who knew what. Probably for that Half Blood he called Master. Pure joke that cunt was.
But who cared ? I was staying at Hogwarts for the Holidays. Bloody alone too.
Crabbe and Goyle had gone home. Blaise was somewhere in America. Why'd he want to do that was beyond me...Pansy was husband-hunting with her lovely parents. Millicent was Merlin knew who. Even that Nott mate was gone. And all the other idiots were gone, except for those first and second years. Which I did not, under any circumstances, want to spend all my holidays with. Great.
Granted I did not like those two buffoons but they could amuse one out of one's boredom. And Blaise, he was a good mate, a good shag, he was bloody shaggable though not really my type and Merlin only knows that I could've done with a good shag during those sodding holidays. Pansy always annoyed the hell out of me but it was nice to be the center of attention even if it came from her.
Perhaps I could've even shagged her a couple of times. Gross, I had to live with these thoughts...I truly wondered who would want to be engaged to that. Without being forced that is. I'd been this close to be that poor man that got affianced with her. This close. Thank the heavens for saving me from a horrible future.
Millicent was alright, I guess. It wasn't like I really talked to her. She could be the girl version of Crabbe or Goyle. But aside from that, she could have done the trick...Perhaps, possibly, okay, not at all. And that Nott. I genuinely had no idea who he was. Some seven year Slytherin that seemed to lust after Blaise. Hehe, got to him first.
Well, I got to almost everybody first. The rumours were true. The stories were founded. The 'victims' were real. Don't get to far of yourselves though. I didn't do that rape shit. I didn't believe in that crap, still don't. Yes, I may have been a cold bastard but I wasn't that foolish. All my partners were willing and disposed. Very willing. Another notch on my bedpost. Figuratively speaking. I wasn't that conceited.
I rather used 'victims' in the sense that I don't shag and cuddle, or shag and fall in love. I just wanted to enjoy myself, have a good time. I wasn't interested in that lovey-dovey shit. All victims of Draco Malfoy's cold heart. I didn't intend to fall in love. Frankly, I didn't believe in that thing called love. I hadn't had the best example.
I believed in that parent-child love even in that friend-friend love, friendship some call it, but love as in lover love ? Nope. That was bullshit. Soul mates, life mates, meant for each other, love at first sight, spend all eternity together ? I clearly didn't believe in those pretences. But then again, I had to be proved wrong, right. ? Bloody fate.
Oh well. Bookshelves are very appealing, don't you think ?
----
Christmas. That day was put under a severe routine. A routine I'd grown accustomed to. Not this year, though, mate. Mum would order the house elves around, making sure the diner was ready, Father would be in his study or gone on 'important, top-secret business' and then, there'd be his boring evening with lots of those Ministry folks, including Fudge himself, ugh, where he would present me to the lot of them, most if not all were, I already knew, Death Eaters. Oh, proud Death Eaters, don't forget that.
Speaking of Fudge. That was what I called conceited. He was a greedy bastard. He craved for power and control and authority. He was daman proud of being Minister of Magic. Even though he was only second best to the great, the wonderful, Muggle-lover, one and only, Albus Dumbledore. Fudge wasn't that great. He wasn't even good. He was average and that was being generous.
And that was who we put to the command. A greedy, old fucker who would like nothing more than join forces with Lord Voldemort and gain powers beyond his imagination. One thing was: he was the bloody Minister of Magic and with that came obligations. Like not turning evil that is and not team up with one of the greatest Dark Wizards of all times. I don't think it was that great of a incentive but, oh well.
And there would be all of Father's Death Eaters friends. All looking at me with a thousand promises in their eyes. I knew they just waited for me to wear that bloody mask and enter the inner circle. Crabbe and Goyle Sr., Avery, McNair, Nott and all those losers. All proud Pure Bloods kissing the hem of a Half Blood ! Daft men they were. Good thing we put them away...
But Mum would be there. One wouldn't think that we were that close. I know how it might've looked like. But we were. I think she's the only person I've ever loved that much except.... She virtually had to hide the fact that we were so close to Father. I don't think he's ever said he loved me. Maybe Mum compensated for him. Though, he was proud of me. At one time. Before he entered my life. Again, Fate's sodding doing.
More than once I had to hear him say how much he was disappointed of me : couldn't get Potter's friendship, couldn't have better grades, couldn't make the team, couldn't catch the damn Snitch, couldn't round pass that age- limit, couldn't do this, that, this again and that...Once he was so angry, he even threatened me of disowning me.
Not angry, begging your pardon. He was never angry as one would normally react when angry. Malfoys do not explode in anger. Malfoys keep their cool but throw daggers with their icy glares and freeze soul with their glacial tone. Malfoys do not do such things as let their emotions overcome them. They are masters of themselves. Masters period.
There never once had been some plates or vases broken, there never once had been shouts and yells, there never once had been any slaps, kicks, punches, hexes, curses, there never once had been any 'physical proof' of his utter disappoint in his only son. The only proof was in the heart of this very son.
That time, I didn't even remember what I had done to upset him. It wasn't the most shining moment in Draco Malfoy's life. All I could recall was bribes, parts, glares, smirks, sneers of that day. He clearly said I was dirtying our name, our pride, our reputation, our heritage. He clearly enunciated how it was upsetting to have such an hopeless son for lone heir. To hell with it, I was a bloody disgrace.
I can remember clearly Mum's reaction. She had been horrified when she heard 'disowning'. But she hadn't said a thing. She just clapped her hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening with held tears. And she stayed still, barely breathing. I thought she would pass out on us. And yet, I didn't blame her for not saying a word. I knew she didn't want to go up against Father. And even if she had tried to, he wouldn't have let her.
I had to understand what being a Malfoy meant. Mum had it all down when she went in the public eye. Even when she was with Father, sometimes. Being a Malfoy was great lot of responsibilities. Carry the name with honour, hold your chin up, veil your eyes, curl your lips in a smirk, drawl your words, shoot insults at everyone lower than you, that is everyone period, choose carefully your friends, watch your back, bow down at the Dark Lord...
Because Malfoy meant a lot. Being a Malfoy meant mastering that smirk, that stare, that glare, that impassive gaze. Being a Malfoy meant no public displays of emotions, not any, not ever. Anger was tolerated. Although being a Malfoy meant you could control your feelings, hide them, make people think you have none. Being a Malfoy meant being superior to others, or at least feeling in my case.
Yes, I thought I was. But I sure as hell wasn't. All my life I had been taught that garbage about pure blood and Malfoys. Yes, we were unbeatable, unstoppable, untouchable. Almost gods. Since the very first day I was born, my future was all mapped out. I was to become this great wizard, a dark wizard I might add, and league with Voldemort. I don't know why Father even joined his ranks the first time.
All the pride that being a Malfoy instigated was soon flushed under that cagoule. Faceless, nameless, only a dark mark craved on your arm. And it was blood ironic. I was supposed to be this greater being and yet, I had to follow orders from a bloody muggleborn ! And yet, Father still preached to me the fucking blood purity ! Now, that's what I call ironic. Hilarious, really.
I would've laughed my arse off hard and long if it hadn't meant for me to become one at soon as my studies at Hogwarts would be finished. Speaking of which, they were almost over. Which also meant my Initiation was soon to be. A year or so, now. I didn't know what I wanted to do but I didn't want to be a bloody Death Eater, that's for sure. Yes, I know Father has a job apart from that. I just don't want to be one, period.
I told my mum that once. She had gazed at me with loving, understanding eyes but she had said nothing. I knew she didn't want to meddle in Father's plans even if it was my life, after all. That was one of the very few times I got angry with her. Though deep down, I understood. I wasn't really mad at her particularly. Just mad at the whole world. Sticking world. Sometimes I wish I was a Muggle. It'd be so much simpler. Go figure.
-----
It all started on Christmas day. No, in fact, make that two days before that bloody holiday. I was bored out of my mind. Madam Pince eyed me suspiciously at first. I remember I had flashed her one of my most charming smiles and she had flushed. But she had recovered quickly. Now, she always looked as if I was preparing to launch those fireworks of the Weasel twins in her library. Granted I never put a foot there unless it's of urgent business but hell, I think it's a goddamn public place.
A few hours of pissing her off truly was truly all there was. And I was truly bored. My work seemed to have vanished. It's funny how your work pile seem to disappear quicker when you just want to burry yourself and die of fatigue. Ironic again. Merlin, do we live in an ironic world or what ? Or maybe it was just my world that was ironic. Or Fate that was truly pissed off at me for some unknown reason. Or both. Yes, that's it, join forces and kick me in the guts again. Good job.
It was a day like the others, an utterly dull day. And even when Golden Boy came by. I was so lifeless I couldn't even think a something to spit at him. And to my utter surprise, he didn't even attack me. And he was alone. He just settled at a table, in front of me, dropping loudly all of his parchments and quills and bottles on the table. I remember quite clearly the snort I gave. And the sigh he made. Serves him right for disturbing my utter boredom.
Still slumped down on the chair, I stared at him. He was bent on a long parchment, books opened, scattered everywhere and a frustrated frown on his face. Seemed to be Snape's essay. Poor Potty, Potions never were his best subject. Too bad for him. He let out another groan of frustration and then looked up at me. I lifted a questioning brow at him. He shook his head and looked back on his essay.
I coughed a bit and he gazed back at me again. Now, what I was about to do gave me another reason, if not the best, of hating Christmas. I truly don't know why I did it. It just felt natural, I guess, Merlin only knows why. Damn bastard. I don't think anyone knows of it even now. It was just our little secret. Sometimes, after, it even made me sick. Now ? I don't know. It's just ironic. Again.
I cocked my head to him and then to the exit. I saw his face change from annoyance to disbelief to pure confusion. It actually was quite amusing. But, being a Malfoy and him being the Boy Who Lived, I kept it to myself as I watched him shrug, frown, sigh and step on his Gryffindor pride and gather his things around as I did the same thing.
He strode slowly towards the door, his bag on the shoulder and holding tightly on every last piece of paper and quills he had. Finally, it was as though he decided that the faster he got there, the better he would be and he picked up the pace quickly. Madam Pince watched him distrustfully as he passed by her, trying to keep everything he had in his arms.
I waited a bit, grabbed my bag and stood up. I slowly walked by the librarian who, again, ogled me warily. Oh, hell. I tried again with the charming smile. To which she abruptly stuck her nose in her book, letting an indignant sound out. I smirked at that and blew her a kiss, while she spied on me, trying to be discreet, above her glasses. And then she actually smiled at me. Good doing, Malfoy. You've got yourself another admirer. Fuck.
I exited the library and looked around to find my dear Hero. He was leaning back to a wall, arms crossed against his chest, head bowed, tapping his foot edgily. Clam down, Pots, you're going blow up something. Preferably not me, I've grown quite attached to myself. Have to. Who have I got besides myself ? But that wasn't the point. Ah, Potter. Care to entertain me ?
"What do you want, Malfoy ? "he asked, not looking up before I could speak.
"Oh, nothing much. I was bored and you were nearly crying over your troublesome essay, so I figured I'd help you out, "I said almost too sweetly.
"Yeah right. The day you help me without any tricks up your sleeves will be the day I kiss you of my own free will, "he snarled more and more annoyed.
"I wonder if you're a good kisser then, "I replied, unmoved, as he wrinkled his nose. "I wonder if your lips will feel as soft as they look or if you use much tongue or not. Are you a tongue or lip person ? I wonder how you taste, "I said, winking at him.
"STOP ! I'm gonna have bloody nightmares for the rest of my life, cunt !"he said, covering his ears.
"Prude, "I said as he snorted, "perhaps virgin then..."
"What's in it for you ?" Ooh radical change of subject. Virgin it is.
"What ?"
"I know you, Malfoy, you're not one to help when there's nothing at the other end. What's in it for you ? What will you find to humiliate me again ?"
"Oh, nothing, Hero. Absolutely nothing. I just thought we could keep each other company seeing as we were both left behind, "I said, trying to sound indifferent.
"You're actually saying you'd rather spend time with me than alone ? Am I going fucking insane here ? Am I hearing correctly ?"
"Oh, your hearing is quite correct though you might want to check that thing you call a brain. Come on, Pots, I am utterly bored, you need help and I am willing to help you if, "
"Ha ! I knew there was a catch, "he said triumphantly. "What is it ?"
"...you are willing to entertain me, "I replied, a slow, wicked grin curling my lips.
"You sick bastard ! I should've known, I should've seen through this !"he cried out, disgusted.
"Oh breathe out, Hero, you're not gonna choke on me. I didn't mean it that way. Besides, you're the sick bastard. Who knew Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived had such naughty thoughts ? "I teased him as he flushed a bit. "Oh just shut up and be grateful already."
"Alright, "he conceited, "Where ? Oh, I know where. Good place. Come. Follow me."
I snorted but still, I followed him. He had actually agreed to let me help him. I had actually offered to help him. When classes were to begin, I was going to hex Snape for this bloody essay. Take that, Father. I'm helping Potter out. Just like friends do. Ugh, shouldn't have thought that. Made me want to retch. Me, friends with Potter ? Someone was surely tired. Yes, that probably was it.