Disclaimer: I don't know why I bother really, as no-one seems to be reading this. I could make outrageous claims about my ownership of the following characters/setting etc, and who would ever know?

Draco

Naturally, I was curious when they entered the common room, cheeks flushed and laughing, so I pried. Just gently at first, easing around their consciousness. I felt it getting stronger as I pushed further in – the excitement, the adrenalin; I could feel it start to pump through my veins.

But, why? I selected one of them – Sandra, a rather unpleasant girl, who thought that she belonged in our great house, despite her disgusting squib of an uncle. I quested out, guiding her mind back to whatever had caused this commotion.

Laughter. Screaming – someone else screaming. A body, writhing on the floor. Who? Look at the face; remember the face. Sandra, in the present, didn't want to remember, didn't want to see the body as another human being.

Look! I was being more forceful now, no longer edging around, subtly suggesting, but ordering her to do as I said. She knew someone was there now; she knew someone was in her mind. LOOK!

Hermione Granger. The image of her face, contorted in agony, appeared so suddenly that it shocked me. Or, at least, that's the only reason I can give for feeling as I did. I should have felt, I don't know, the exhilaration, the power that I normally felt in these circumstances. Instead, there was a kind of numb shock.

I pulled myself together, angry that I had allowed myself to loose focus. Where? My questions were violent now, reflecting my mood. I could see a wall now, with a portrait hanging on it; a portrait just like the one hanging on the wall a couple hundred metres up the corridors.

They couldn't have been that stupid. This was idiocy worthy of Hufflepuff. The others? They appeared in my mind, all five of them, all unmasked. And there was the Weasel, witnessing it all. The retards were actually helping him to witness it. And after? Futilely, I hoped that they had at least killed them, that they had gotten rid of the evidence. But I only saw them running; Sandra had glanced behind her and I could see the two of them moving, hurt but alive.

In that glance, I could also see someone else approaching. Didn't see us, her jumbled thoughts and emotions told me. We saw him and ran – thought he would get teachers. I could feel all her emotions as she felt them – the joy at escaping, the residual fear of being caught, the excitement at what she had just done… Finally, overshadowing all the others, was an overwhelming fear of what I would do to her.

I shook my head to rid it of her feelings as I eased myself out of the voluptuous chair I had been sitting in. Their expressions were unchanged from when they had entered, except for Sandra, whole pale face grew ever paler as I approached.

When I reached them I waited until they noticed I was there, until they were silent, before speaking. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" I spoke as calmly as I could, not wanting to arouse the attention of the entire common room, yet.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Timothy, the leader of the group, said, looking confused.

"In the hall just now," I said, still patient.

He frowned and shook his head. "You've lost me – sorry."

"Don't bullshit, Timothy," I said, "especially not to a legilimens."

"Malfoy, honestly," he looked around his group, as if asking for support, "I don't know what we're meant to have done wrong."

"Hermione Granger," I said, simply. "Name sound familiar to you?"

"Malfoy, you should have been there!" he said, eyes shining. "It was great – we…" And then he must have finally noticed my expression. "We did as the Dark Lord would have wanted," he finished, his voice defiant and defensive, but his face was unsure, asking me, hoping he was right. "We taught that Mudblood a lesson, didn't we, guys?" He turned to the group. None of them responded.

"See, that's funny," I said. "Because I would have thought that the last thing the Dark Lord would have wanted was giving Dumbledore an excuse to kick all the Slytherins out."

There was a shocked silence, then – "What? He couldn't do that!" Darren, one of the others, said.

"You think not? That idiot, Fudge, passed all those decrees two years ago that hindered someone meant to be on his side. What makes you think he won't do worse to us?" I could see them wilting under my stare. Weak! I felt like shouting at them – unworthy!

"Getting rid of Slytherins would work rather well – solve all the friction between the houses in this school, stop the Ministry wasting money educating and caring for all us future Death Eaters. It's a marvellous idea – all he needs in an excuse, otherwise there would be uproar. My father would make sure of that."

I felt a rush of pride as I said that; my father, having always known and exploited the weaknesses of Fudge's Ministry, had managed to get out of Azkaban in a matter of weeks.

"You may have just provided that excuse," I said, slowly, deliberately, looking at each of them. "And yet you wonder why I'm angry."

Eventually, Alyssa spoke, her voice querulous – "It was Timothy's idea!" she gabbled. "He," she paused, trying to think of something credible, "he forced us to do it!"

"Yeah, Timothy," the others clamoured, anxious to show that they too were simply unfortunate, manipulated innocents. I smiled reassuringly at them, and they smiled back, not realising that my wand, hidden by my cloak, was pointed right at them.

I muttered a grouping spell and, still smiling, yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" Five identical, surprised faces, five lifeless bodies, crumpled to the floor. I returned my gaze to Timothy to find him staring at me.

"You should teach your recruits more loyalty," I explained. "They wouldn't have stood up to the Wizengamot very well."

This seemed to jar his vocal chords into action – "Malfoy, I didn't mean to, I swear. I didn't realise…"

"I should really kill you as well," I said, cutting him off. "Incompetence and aspirations to leadership – they don't mix, Timothy."

"No, you can't! The Dark Lord, he… I'm a Death Eater too!"

"I already told you not to lie to me, Timothy," I said, disbelief at his stupidity showing in my voice. "You aren't a Death Eater – I should know. I am."

"Yeah, but, I'm gonna be!" he said, desperately. "I was at the last meeting – my father took me. I can tell you where it is and everything: in Hogsmeade, King's Street, house…"

He was dead before he finished the sentence. "Never give the location of meetings out," I said, more for the benefit of everyone else who, I was sure, were watching my every move. "You don't know who I could be."

I turned around to face the rest of the common room. It was as I had suspected – every pair of eyes was fixed on me. "Suicide," I said, by way of explanation. "Tragic, really." Then I returned to my seat and let the nervous beginnings of conversations wash over me.

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I like this chapter – it's just so satisfying to write as a complete and utter bastard. Not that anyone's reading this or anything (sob)

Me? Bitter? Whatever gave you that idea?

Yeah, for all those non-existent readers out there, I won't be updating for a while coz I have exams for three weeks, then am off to Spain and then Wales. Should be home around August though. Should really add me to author-alert (if this is what I have been told it is…) to find out when the next chapter's out.

You know what else is satisfying? To write as if I actually have a devoted audience who lap all of this up and beg me for more. Oh well…I can always pretend.