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Chapter 5
Impressions
Dear Son,
I hope your school year is starting off well. It is very important that you keep up with your studies so that one day, hopefully within the year, you shall follow in my footsteps and become a servant of the Dark Lord. Indeed, he has plans, but of those we will speak face to face. In fact, your first Hogsmeade trip shall take place in a couple of weeks. Meet me in Hog's Head at exactly 3:47 in the afternoon. If you are late or fail to arrive, be sure that I will send someone out looking for you, and I do not believe you will be happy with the result if that should occur. Use your own owl to send a reply and not one of the schools. We don't need Dumbledore's pets knowing where the Dark Lord is hiding, now do we?
Your Father,
Lucius Malfoy
Draco finished reading the letter that he had received that morning at breakfast and threw in the wastebasket in the corner of the Slytherin common room. He hated his father and wished with all his heart that the man would die the most painful and torturous death known to man. So much for father-son love.
He knew what his path would be if he met with his father. It would be one of death, servitude, and pain. Pain didn't bother his, and he didn't mind Avada Kedavra-ing anyone who annoyed him. But he would never become anyone's servant-especially one of someone who couldn't even slaughter a helpless infant. He was his own person. And he would never become a Deatheater; for himself, and to prove everyone wrong who thought he was an evil, cold-hearted murderer.
He gathered his materials: books, quills, parchment; and walked out of the dark Slytherin common room to his first class of the day, arithmancy. Wonderful, another class with that cursed mudblood and that arrogant head of hers. He entered the classroom and took his usual seat in the back away from Granger, who always say in the front. The lecture began; mindless babbling about ancient number and charts that he had long ago memorized, and soon he found himself dozing into oblivion......
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"DRACO!" A woman's shrill scream echoed in the dead night air.
"Where are you?" she yelled again.
He wanted so badly to call out to her but couldn't; his lips were frozen together and his arms and legs were locked in place as well. Where was he...and why couldn't he move? Suddenly, a light flared, a voice screamed, and he was looking at his own cold, hard body dead on the forest floor. Something cackled and the a loud pop resounded through the air.
The girl ran up to his body, knelt, and sobbed the sorrowful tears of death and love lost. He saw her feel for a pulse or any fickle sign of life, but she was too late, and she knew that. Draco tried to comfort the mystery girl with kind words but she couldn't hear him. He reached out for her, but his translucent hand passed right through her quivering shoulder.
She felt something very cold pass through her and looked up from the body. She saw no one. Meanwhile, Draco could see the girl's face when she looked up. He stared into her warm amber eyes that were laced with fury, sadness, love, and defeat, but she still couldn't see him. He was a ghost.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He jerked awake in the middle of class. Thankfully, nobody noticed that he had been asleep. Professor Vector was now announcing the homework, a two and a half foot long essay on Germanic runes and their role in interdimentional transportation. The bell rang and Draco quickly exited the classroom. Someone came up behind him as he headed to double potions,
"Oh, didn't you love Professor Vector's, Malfoy?" Hermione inquired smirking, "Do you mind recalling for me what Dagaz is, or perhaps Thurisaz. Not that you would know, I could hear your snores all the way in the front."
"Shut up mudblood, you don't' know anything," he replied coldly.
"Shut your mouth Malfoy, and don't you ever call her a mudblood again," the approaching Harry yelled. Hermione fell back to join her friends, but Draco just continued walking to Potions.
"I can call her whatever the hell I want to Potter, and I would like to see you stop me."
"Take that back Malfoy," Ron screamed, "or does being a Deatheater mean you can't do anything without consulting your 'Master' first?"
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to face the trio. His eyes were cold and leaked hatred.
"Don't ever judge me by my father Weasley," he spat, "ever, or else you will be very, very sorry. I'm not a Deatheater nor will I ever be. I'd suggest that you don't speak of matters that don't concern you."
Ron was red and Harry was pale. But Draco was startled when he looked at Hermione. It was er eyes that scared him. He had seen those eyes once before, but then they had been shedding tears of grief for him, not reflecting hate. He turned and continued down the corridor haunted by that pair of beautiful golden-brown eyes.
~*~*~
The rest of Hermione's day was uneventful, but Draco's words stirred her. So he wasn't a Death Eater? She always assumed he would follow in his father's footsteps. Not that she was disappointed, but she was impressed. She also couldn't forget the way he had looked into her eyes. Something had spooked him away. That boy was a complex puzzle she would never be able to figure out. He was supposed to be evil and bloodthirsty, but she couldn't help but think that there was something good behind the mask.
A.N./ Ok I'm trying to hurry it up the best I can. I hope you liked that chapter, a little more...contact. Please review. Any tips or criticisms are welcome.
Chapter 5
Impressions
Dear Son,
I hope your school year is starting off well. It is very important that you keep up with your studies so that one day, hopefully within the year, you shall follow in my footsteps and become a servant of the Dark Lord. Indeed, he has plans, but of those we will speak face to face. In fact, your first Hogsmeade trip shall take place in a couple of weeks. Meet me in Hog's Head at exactly 3:47 in the afternoon. If you are late or fail to arrive, be sure that I will send someone out looking for you, and I do not believe you will be happy with the result if that should occur. Use your own owl to send a reply and not one of the schools. We don't need Dumbledore's pets knowing where the Dark Lord is hiding, now do we?
Your Father,
Lucius Malfoy
Draco finished reading the letter that he had received that morning at breakfast and threw in the wastebasket in the corner of the Slytherin common room. He hated his father and wished with all his heart that the man would die the most painful and torturous death known to man. So much for father-son love.
He knew what his path would be if he met with his father. It would be one of death, servitude, and pain. Pain didn't bother his, and he didn't mind Avada Kedavra-ing anyone who annoyed him. But he would never become anyone's servant-especially one of someone who couldn't even slaughter a helpless infant. He was his own person. And he would never become a Deatheater; for himself, and to prove everyone wrong who thought he was an evil, cold-hearted murderer.
He gathered his materials: books, quills, parchment; and walked out of the dark Slytherin common room to his first class of the day, arithmancy. Wonderful, another class with that cursed mudblood and that arrogant head of hers. He entered the classroom and took his usual seat in the back away from Granger, who always say in the front. The lecture began; mindless babbling about ancient number and charts that he had long ago memorized, and soon he found himself dozing into oblivion......
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"DRACO!" A woman's shrill scream echoed in the dead night air.
"Where are you?" she yelled again.
He wanted so badly to call out to her but couldn't; his lips were frozen together and his arms and legs were locked in place as well. Where was he...and why couldn't he move? Suddenly, a light flared, a voice screamed, and he was looking at his own cold, hard body dead on the forest floor. Something cackled and the a loud pop resounded through the air.
The girl ran up to his body, knelt, and sobbed the sorrowful tears of death and love lost. He saw her feel for a pulse or any fickle sign of life, but she was too late, and she knew that. Draco tried to comfort the mystery girl with kind words but she couldn't hear him. He reached out for her, but his translucent hand passed right through her quivering shoulder.
She felt something very cold pass through her and looked up from the body. She saw no one. Meanwhile, Draco could see the girl's face when she looked up. He stared into her warm amber eyes that were laced with fury, sadness, love, and defeat, but she still couldn't see him. He was a ghost.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He jerked awake in the middle of class. Thankfully, nobody noticed that he had been asleep. Professor Vector was now announcing the homework, a two and a half foot long essay on Germanic runes and their role in interdimentional transportation. The bell rang and Draco quickly exited the classroom. Someone came up behind him as he headed to double potions,
"Oh, didn't you love Professor Vector's, Malfoy?" Hermione inquired smirking, "Do you mind recalling for me what Dagaz is, or perhaps Thurisaz. Not that you would know, I could hear your snores all the way in the front."
"Shut up mudblood, you don't' know anything," he replied coldly.
"Shut your mouth Malfoy, and don't you ever call her a mudblood again," the approaching Harry yelled. Hermione fell back to join her friends, but Draco just continued walking to Potions.
"I can call her whatever the hell I want to Potter, and I would like to see you stop me."
"Take that back Malfoy," Ron screamed, "or does being a Deatheater mean you can't do anything without consulting your 'Master' first?"
Draco stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to face the trio. His eyes were cold and leaked hatred.
"Don't ever judge me by my father Weasley," he spat, "ever, or else you will be very, very sorry. I'm not a Deatheater nor will I ever be. I'd suggest that you don't speak of matters that don't concern you."
Ron was red and Harry was pale. But Draco was startled when he looked at Hermione. It was er eyes that scared him. He had seen those eyes once before, but then they had been shedding tears of grief for him, not reflecting hate. He turned and continued down the corridor haunted by that pair of beautiful golden-brown eyes.
~*~*~
The rest of Hermione's day was uneventful, but Draco's words stirred her. So he wasn't a Death Eater? She always assumed he would follow in his father's footsteps. Not that she was disappointed, but she was impressed. She also couldn't forget the way he had looked into her eyes. Something had spooked him away. That boy was a complex puzzle she would never be able to figure out. He was supposed to be evil and bloodthirsty, but she couldn't help but think that there was something good behind the mask.
A.N./ Ok I'm trying to hurry it up the best I can. I hope you liked that chapter, a little more...contact. Please review. Any tips or criticisms are welcome.