Numb

By: Anti Darth Ani

Chapter Two: What You Want Me To Be

Author's Notes:

Well, I'm sorry that updates take so long, I really am. But I am a busy girl. What, with this story, Seven Minutes in Heaven, and then Waiting For My Rocket To Come and When It Rains In New York, my Without a Trace and CSI:NY fan-fics on (this story is posted on both fan fiction. and under Anti Darth Ani).

But I am working as fast as I can. Reviews always encourage me to work faster and they really brighten up my day hint hint. :P

I know some of you would like to know when I'm updating and uploading new chapters and stories. I'm thinking about opening up a mailing list site where fans of any of my stories can sign up and know when I update. And I could also post special previews on new stories and new chapters there. If anyone would like to see that happen, just make sure to mention that in your review and I'll see if I get enough feedback to make it worth it.

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Sadly, Malfoy didn't get any special chances to just happen to pop by the Gryffindor table, so his name calling for the day would have to wait. After all, he had other things to do than pick on the little Weasley prefect. Although nothing would have brightened his mood more than slapping that loose lipped bitch right across the face. But she was one of his minor problems at the moment, he realized as he stared hopelessly into the mirror.

It wasn't like a simple cowlick a little magical gel and a simple spell could fix. No, he couldn't fix this part of his image. That ugly scar forever burnt into his arm. It was too hot to keep wearing long sleeves day in and day out. But he'd tried every concealing charm he knew and even tried a few he'd never heard of before (the later resulting in a weekend in the infirmary wing of the school). Draco fumbled with his wand, balancing it on his fingers while he studied his outstretched arm.

The worst part was that people weren't even suspicious. It was like everyone already knew about him becoming part of The Cause. They even expected it from him. Draco kicked the mirror angrily. He was fed up of doing what people expected of him. He didn't want to have to deal with his father's pride, or the family name. He wanted to be on the other side of the war, or not on a side at all. But Draco refused to give up all the things that came with the family name (mostly the comfort of living wealthy and well fed).

"Damn it!" he shouted, tossing his wand away from him, ignoring the green sparks it released. "I can't do this!" he screamed at his Muggle made mirror. "I can't deal with all this anymore!" He wanted to kill someone. Wanted them to feel pain instead of him, wanted to hear their screams over his own.

But then he would be no better than his father. And the only thing that scared Draco more than Muggles taking over the world was Lucius Malfoy. "Fuck it all!" he yelled to the walls of his room. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Yet, the yelling did little except make his throat hurt and his lungs contract.

Instead of killing someone, Draco settled with picking up the bottle of ink on his desk and hurtling it across the room at top speed. The shatter of the glass against the wall had no affect on his anger, and the black ink just blended into the color of his wall, so there wasn't even a sign of his discontent. Can't take it, he said to himself, running a hand through his perfect hair. Can't take any of it anymore. Draco looked at his horrible reflection in the mirror. Don't want him inside of my head anymore, he thought, on the verge of a breakdown. Just want to get him out.

"Get out!" he yelled out loud, crumbling to the floor in a mass of tortured flesh and black robes. Draco sucked in a deep breath of air and began to rock back and forth as the scars on his arm opened up. Blood began to slowly trickle out in flowing rivers. He's punishing me, Draco thought helplessly as the pain consumed him. He knows I won't ever fight for the cause and he's going to slowly kill me because of it.

"I give up," Draco cried hoarsely. "You can take me if you want. Just make it stop. Make it stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop…"

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When Draco slid wordlessly into the back of the Potions classroom, easily taking a seat next to Pansy, no one said a word. In fact, they didn't even seem to recognize that he had entered the lesson late. Although Snape loved having Draco in his class because of the high marks Draco made in Potions, even Draco wasn't off the hook for tardiness. Although he was the Head Boy, teachers knew he used that excuse far too often when he thought he could get away with it, and since he was now in his last year of schooling, the teachers were starting to crack down on him harder.

Yet, as Draco pulled out his Potions notebook and essay he'd written the night before when he's nightmares had kept him awake, not even Pansy said a word to him. Having Pansy ignore him was one of the best things Draco could imagine for himself. But when she actually did ignore him, it felt weird. He needed the attention she gave him, even though he hated her for being herself. She was still a female and Draco still had needs (not that he would ever let her try to fulfill them).

He decided he really didn't want the attention after all. He'd gotten a lot of attention from the Death Eaters lately, and they'd turned him into a wreck. If anymore people paid attention to him, he'd might end up mad like Potter, hanging around with Mudbloods and Mudblood lovers.

Draco took his quill out of his bag, but as he positioned it above his notebook, he couldn't make himself focus on what Snape was saying. He looked at the blank paper in front of him and he saw his father staring back at him. He saw red dots covering the paper in random increments. He saw the fathers of his classmates sneering at him while they held him down and tortured him. Draco tossed him quill down on the table soundlessly and slumped down in his chair.

Pansy finally managed a look at Draco, but she didn't say a word to him. Instead, she shifted in her chair just the littlest way away from him. Draco wanted to scream, wanted to ask her why she was acting so distant when she was usually ready to jump his bones.

Nothing was like the way it had been the year before. Before his father had forced him to form an alliance with the Dark Lord. School was already proving to be hell this year, and it wasn't even halfway over yet. With the way people kept acting strangely around him, Draco was surprised he'd made it this far into the year without killing someone already.

The class seemed to end before it had even begun. As Snape began to dismiss them from the classroom, he shot Draco an odd look. At the same exact moment, Pansy slid Draco a small, folded up piece of parchment. Curiously, Draco leaned forward in his seat and snatched up the piece of paper, unfolding it while he shoved his notebook back into his bag.

In Pansy's silky, extremely annoying, handwriting, were the few words Draco wanted to read the least. 'Glad you're taking me to the Yule Ball this weekend.'

When had he agreed to any such arrangement? He hadn't and he knew it. Draco knew Pansy was desperate for him, but he was just as desperate, if not more, to stay away from her. He'd go to that dance by himself and leave with almost anyone but Pansy. There was no way he was going to let her hold him down, not when he couldn't stand being around her in the first place.

I'll show that annoying witch, Draco thought standing up with the rest of the class. He could feel her eyes on him, watching to see him react. Well, he wasn't going to cause a big scene because the less people that knew about Pansy thinking he was going to take her to the ball, the better. Instead of giving her an answer, Draco followed his fellow classmates out of the Potions classroom. And as he left, he threw the piece of paper into Nevelle Longbottom's burning cauldron without a word to Pansy.

We'll see who's taking whom to that dance. My father may be able to control part of my life, but there's no way anyone else is going to get the same chance as my father. Not even bloody Pansy. Draco smirked to himself and he marched down the hall with his head held high. This whole Yule Ball situation wasn't going to suck as much as he had first thought. Finally, a way to show Pansy that although she pined after him, he didn't need her and never would.

So now all he needed was the perfect girl to escape with on the night of the dance. At least things were going to keep his mind off of his father and the Dark Lord for a while.