Disclaimer: If I owned the HP characters, why would I waste my time here?

DemonRouge: I had loads of fun writing that.

Dione Shadow: Well, they could have been kissing for quite a while, which allowed him to think all of that. And, if there weren't those "coincidences", then stories would never work. I mean, it's always, "it just so happened" in my opinion.

Morena Evensong: If you recall, Draco thought to himself that he knew he would not have any time to hide Harry (which we will clear up why he did that) and still have time to collect himself for his friends. And though Crabbe and Goyle are a bit slow, they might be suspicious.

AloraBraken: And ever, and ever, and ever……..

Autore: Life's interference was not too controlling, even though I only had one week of Spring Break. And that's exactly how I plan to ease their pain grins

Goldfish682: I'm glad you're happy about it. And yes, parents can be uhhhh…let's just say "mean".

Black Dios: He probably will, but you never know. They're both controlling figures…

A/N: Thoughts are italic…along with lyrics.

My heart goes out to all of my faithful reviewers, and my sincerest apologies for the delay in updating. Hectic can only describe my life. But my Benchmarks team pulled it off! We finished! Soon we'll know if we make the finals. I hope we do, because last week, I stayed after school EVERY DAY, and the groups put in more than 13 hours in just one week. And thanks to my beta…myself. Here's the chapter:

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Another dose of unhappiness.

I gave it all and managed to get shot down yet again.

"Emily" by Bowling for Soup

Right after "the kiss":

I looked down at the still unopened parcel in my hands.

"G-d damn that Potter! Not only am I late for class, but I haven't even gotten to look at the dream catcher!" I shouted into the empty hallway, as I raced towards Snape's classroom. My reputation…destroyed.

Ah, screw it. I'm already late. Why rush? I thought aggravated, slowing my pace.

Behind me, I heard heavy footsteps coming closer. The sound reverberated off the walls, and I shuddered. Soon, Crabbe and Goyle were shouting my name.

"Bloody hell, Drake? If you was skipping, ya should have told us!" Goyle exclaimed, patting me on the back. I was almost sent to floor by the intense strength. What good bodyguards. After recovering, I responded.

"I am not skipping, I am simply taking my time. What are you two imbeciles doing out here? Don't tell me you forgot the way…" I said, eyeing them disgustedly.

"No, of course not! We were in Potions, and we saw you weren't there, so we excused ourselves…" began Crabbe.

"We searched the kitchens, 'cause we saw you left early, we looked in the dorm rooms, and then thought that maybe you'd gone to class already, so we was headin' back. Where ya been?" finished Goyle.

"Amazing someone with such poor grammar could possibly have a grade at all. I would have expected negative results." I muttered.

In all honesty, after the encounter with Harry, I had roamed the halls. Suddenly, it seemed silly to be complaining about not being able to put up the dream catcher, or for being late for class. It's ridiculous that I had not gone down to the Slytherin Dungeons, or gone to class in all the time I had. Instead, I had spent a good while outside, watching Peeves attempt to make a duck fall into a trap made of firewhisky and flames.

But I wasn't going to tell the two goons that—they were curious blokes, and would keep interrogating me. In the end, I would give them one answer. So I just cut to the chase.

"None of your bloody business, now let's get to class." I hissed, and sauntered ahead of them, head held high.

"Right." Crabbe and Goyle replied in unison. Apparently, this was funny, for the two burst into a fit of laughter. I, however, was un-amused, not to mention irritated, and kept walking.

Crabbe and Goyle instantly fell into step behind me, as they had done for many years.

Walking with Crabbe and Goyle allowed me no time to think about why I had protected Harry in the first place. I also could not ponder on why I had allowed "the thing" to happen. The two were quite talkative. They gossiped like women on holiday.

"…so I hear that Blaise beats his mom."

This caught my attention. Blaise and I had been the best of friends. We had shared the same interests, opinions, and lifestyles. That is, until third year. And although I had been very distant in my self-pity, I had noticed a dramatic change in Blaise. He was much more violent.

"Oh really? Who told you?" I questioned, much more interested in the conversation now.

"Only the best—Pansy. She knows because she was over at his house and she says she saw him perform the Crucio. She's afraid he'll do it to her too, and wants to break up with him. But he said that if she tried to, he'd kill her." Declared Goyle.

"He sure has changed." I muttered.

"Yeah." whispered Goyle, before slipping into the classroom. Crabbe followed suit.

After tucking my package in my robes, I crept into the room.

I ignored the disapproving stare from Snape and the other Slytherins. I dismissed the glares from the Gryffindors, as always, and found my seat at the back of the room.

"Mr. Malfoy, what a surprise? Coming in so late…five points from Slytherin." Bellowed Snape from across the room.

The Gryffindors closest to me whispered, "It would have been ten points from Gryffindor."

Snape snapped his head instantly to where the pair of Gryffindors had been whispering. "Talking during class! Ten points from Gryffindor!" The two only nodded to each other, and rolled their eyes.

Snape gave them a hard glare. It seemed as though one of the boys was going to faint right then and there from the obvious hatred emitting from the stare.

Snape turned his head back to the board, where lay scribbled a series of notes on the Veritaserum Potion. We would be making it tomorrow, meaning that today was a solely note-taking day.

A few of the Slytherin girls, along with a few Gryffindors, got up from their seats and asked to be excused from class. Feigning illness, desperate kidneys, appointments with Dumbledore, or anything they could think of. Snape turned each one down.

There were about three people in the entire classroom (which held over fifty people), who took out there notes eagerly. Hermione, some Slytherin girl (whose face was not visible behind her hair and her notebook), and Ha—Harry Potter was actually taking notes? Eagerly?

I reluctantly pulled my notebook out from underneath my stack of books. Why is it that muggles can create an Internet, which I hear you can do anything on—shop, listen to music…but we cannot even conceive a spell that would copy the information from the board to the notebook? Something to think about and research.

And so went Potions Class. Lucky for us, we were having double Potions that day, so for the longest time, all you could hear was the scribble of quills and Snape's lecturing.

The rest of the day flew by like nobody's business. Before I realized it, all classes were done, and there were three hours until it was time to go to sleep.

I had diligently taken notes in Potions, and decided that I deserved an evening by the lake. Just Drakstile, the comfort of the lake, and me.

Not wanting to be stopped by a classmate and have my mood ruined, I took the longest and most remote way up to the common room.

Of course, remote does not always mean completely deserted. I was there after all, wasn't I?

Being the "busy" hallway it was, who should I come across, but the famous Harry Potter?

My shock and terror at seeing him could not possibly be described. I was horrified—I thought that maybe he would question what had happened before.

I mentally kicked myself for coming this way. I would rather talk to Blaise any day. But hey, maybe he wouldn't want to talk about it either.

But as the fates would have it, Harry (because it's okay to call him by his first name in my thoughts, isn't it?) could not leave it hanging.

"Er…Malfoy?" he said nervously. Yes, that's my name. I thought bitterly. I did not voice this opinion. Instead, I said, "Yes?" coldly.

"Um…about the thing…in the closet…well, I—"Harry began, not seeming to know how to voice his thoughts.

I cut him off, saying, "I want to forget it happened. You are everything I hate 1, and it was a total accident. If anything, you practically forced me." Immediately after saying that, I got a sick feeling in my stomach—I thought of my mom.

This sparked something in him. Harry dropped his books, gave me a death glare, and before I realized it, his Quidditch-trained fist connected with my jaw.

I dropped to the floor; the pain he inflicted was extreme. I clutched my jaw, and huddled my body together. However, this is not what Harry wanted.

He grabbed the front of my shirt, and lifted me by my shoulders. I looked up at him fearfully—this was what Lucius was like when he was about to beat me.

He pushed me up against the wall and glared at me. "I was not the one who engaged the kiss. I was trying to roll off to the side. was trying to roll off to the side. You were the one who landed your fucking lips on mine!" he finished, shouting.

I must admit. He looked very…oh, what's the word for this? Handsome? Delicious? Whatever the word, all I could do was stare at him when he was so emotional.

Although the kiss had been amazing, and right now Harry looked quite..., I could never picture myself doing anything intimate with anyone after my mom, no matter the gender.

"Are you even listening!" Harry hissed into my face. He lifted me up higher on the wall, and was pressed up against me—thank G-d that certain anatomy were not rubbing together. I was weak-kneed as it was.

I opened my mouth to speak, shut it again for lack of words, repeated, and then managed to get out, "Uh…"

Harry exhaled deeply, and his breathed acted like a ghost across my face.

By this time, Harry was completely supporting me. "Yes. I agree. It never happened, because I would never kiss someone like you.Evil piece of shit." This shocked me. I mean, I had thought that he would say that, but I would have thought for sure that he would mention the fact that we were the same sex. I thought that that would be one of the main reasons for not being interested.

Was he gay? I was so curious…

"What about the fact that I'm a boy? Why didn't you say something about the fact that if you had wanted to kiss me, you would be gay?" I questioned hesitantly.

"You didn't say it either." Harry responded with a chuckle.

I gasped. In retrospect, I hadn't said anything about his gender because I didn't care. "Well…uh…I…"

"Whatever, Malfoy. Homosexuality isn't a crime, unless you're religious." Harry said bemusedly. After looking me up and down, he said, "Which by the looks of you, you aren't."

"I am not a queer! Even the thought of it revolts me!" I said, in denial. Oh, how it would ruin my reputation!

Harry let go of my shoulders and I immediately regained my strength. "Sure." He said, disbelief obvious in his tone.

I gained a somber disposition, and stepped up to him. "Don't ever, ever say things like that about me. If you talk like that behind my back, I'll find out, and you'll be in for some serious shit." I paused, letting that sink in. "And I doubt that even you, the high and mighty Gryffindor, would dare to have the audacity to insult me to my face." I said proudly, and started my walk back to the Slytherin dorms.

"Fag!" Harry shouted, as he was already halfway down the hall.

My calm mood had been destroyed, so I stormed the entire way up to the common room. When Pansy said hello to me, I simply scowled and continued on to my room.

I yanked Drakstile out of her special compartments, and as an afterthought, grabbed the dream catcher so that I could study it while I was outside.

I was by the lake in no time. I put the dream catcher and Drakstile on either side of me, and stared into the depths of the lake. I contemplated my future, and the upcoming holiday. Would I go home? And face the torture?

What brought me out of my pondering was a rustle in some nearby bushes.

I twisted my head around, trying to see who was disturbing me this time. No one appeared, and the rustling stopped. So I turned back to my possessions.

I was still furious about the confrontation Harry and I had had, and just thinking about it made me even more livid.

I picked up Drakstile gingerly, for even in my fuming anger I could not bring myself to harm her.

I looked for an open spot on my exposed arm, and not finding one, I chose an old scar.

I found that on normal days, when I just felt exhausted with depression, my cuts were shallow and sometimes did not even bleed.

But when I was angry, or full of any other emotion, the cuts that raked my arms were vicious, deep, and bloody.

Today was one of those special days where I was furious.

For such a beautiful knife, Drakstile sure could slice. The beautiful liquid streamed down my arm, filling me with such a relieved pleasure, no words can truly describe the sensation.

I stared at the blood that continued to flow out of my arm, and was overcome by an odd, superficial serenity.

But any peace at all was good enough for me, and I relished those moments.

Eventually, my cuts stopped their outpour of blood. But I continued to stare at my red cuts, thinking of when I first began my self-harm.

The first times I had cut myself had been when my father had beaten me. They were never serious. I never made myself bleed until I was comfortable with the blade.

It was actually a gradual procession. I was, at first, afraid of cutting myself. I was looking for a way to relieve my stress and my emotional pain, so I just scraped a pair of scissors across my wrist.

Nothing bled, and I barely felt anything. But that was just the beginning—within a month, the cuts were deeper; more meaningful.

Within a year, which was a bit before my mother had her way with me, I was taking scissors to almost every inch of my arms, and my blood had permanently stained my sheets, underneath the charms.

I woke up from my trance, and soon felt my head fill with the unpleasant thoughts that often roamed the terrain of my mind. I felt tears sting my eyes, but blinked them away, deciding to occupy my mind by opening the dream catcher.

I put Drakstile down, but not before wiping her blood-spattered blade against the grass to try to remove the blood.

I picked up the dream catcher, which was still in the box it came in, and started tearing off the tape that held the parcel together.

Inside the parcel, there were two objects. One was the "Introduction to Cachan Dream Catcher". Oh yea, that's the store I got it from. I wasn't really interested in "how it works" or "it's history". I wanted to examine the dream catcher itself.

I picked up the second package, and unwrapped it. The paper fell away from my dream catcher, and I was pleasantly surprised.

The dream catcher was not very big, which was good for me because I could hide it from my snobby "friends".

It had a black leather circle about a millimeter thick, with white string in the middle that criss-crossed. On one of the strings, in the upper left, there was one black bead. There were strings of black leather, with black feathers. The tips of feathers were white stripes.

Yes, it was beautiful, but I didn't think it looked very magical. I was going to look at the aforementioned "instruction manual", but heard the rustling yet again.

This time, I took more precautions. I swiftly hid my dream catcher and knife in my robes.

I slowly lifted myself up from the ground, and began making my way towards the school, hoping whatever (or whoever) was in the bushes would not follow me.

I had almost reached the school when I heard something behind me. Potter.

"Well hello Potty." I said, while smirking.

Much to my surprise, I received a rapid punch to the face. Well then, Potter.

"Ha. I'm taking the high road." I said, and stalked off, soon walking into yet another deserted hallway.

Potter followed me, but in retrospect, I don't think it was because he was trying to annoy me. There was the possibility that he was just going in the same direction.

However, I didn't take it like that then.

"G-d damn-it, Potter! Following me? Are you just trying to piss me off!" I shouted.

He simply shrugged. I turned behind me and lifted my fists, teasing his anxiety with fake throws at his face.

"Don't think I won't." I snarled. In response, he lifted his hands, too, and circled around me, saying:

"What made you think that? Just because girls can beat you up doesn't mean I don't want to." Potter snarled back, just as mean. He was definitely referring back to when that damned Granger hit me. What a bitch; both of them.

I tackled him to the ground, and then began swinging my fists at his face. He struggled, but being underneath me was quite the disadvantage.

About the time Harry's body went limp underneath mine, I wondered with horror—why was I doing this!

I looked down at the once-spotless form of Harry. His face was distorted and scrunched up from pain.

I unclenched my fists.

Blood spattered his angelic face.

I stared down at my "fists of fury" that had hurt Harry, who was notorious for being kind and brave.

Once over my guilt, I decided that I had to do something with his unconscious body, and hauled him to a closet.

I left the door slightly ajar so that he could get out, but not too open that a passerby would notice anything.

I hastily left the "crime scene", my heart still pounding from the fight and from nervousness of being caught red-handed.

I rushed up to the Slytherin Common Room, where a hoard of proud Slytherins had been waiting for my return.

"What are you smiling about?" I said. "It's so out of character." I added with a smirk.

"What are you talking about? You're the one who beat up Granger! It's out of character for you not to smile!" Pansy chimed in among the chatter of other Slytherins.

I gaped at them. "Huh? As much as I would love to, and would deeply enjoy, bloodying up Granger, I did not such thing."

"Oh." Said Pansy dejectedly.

"Blaise—tell me the story." I ordered.

"Okay, well in the middle of dinner, Granger comes in, with her Weasel of a boyfriend close behind. Weasley is looking absolutely livid, and 'ittle Granger looks terrified. It was hilarious; they were quite the pair." Blaise began, pausing to let that beginning sink in.

"Go on." I commanded.

"Now, you were missing, or we would have asked you what you had done now. However, we assumed that you had done it because you weren't there. Ron goes to his table and makes Hermione sit by Neville, 'cause their beloved Harry wasn't there."

I cringed at this. Yeah, I know why he wasn't there.

"Then he comes up to our table, and starts hollering at me about 'where's your jackass of a friend?' and 'what the hell is wrong with your House! Look what Malfoy did to Hermione!' and then pointed to her, where she was crying."

He paused there to chuckle.

"He huffed then, and went to go sit back at his table. He shot glares at our table all evening. He must have been looking for you."

"Do you know what actually happened to Granger? Or who?" I questioned.

"Yeah. I heard it from some people in my Transfiguration Class." said a girl in her third year.

"Well, go on!" shouted some boys from the opposite side of the room. All attention was focused on the youngster, and for a moment she seemed to regret saying anything at all. But then she continued.

"Apparently, Granger was walking through the Quidditch fields, studying some notes for Potions class. I think I heard they were on Veritaserum."

A few people nodded their heads and grumbled in agreement.

"Yeah, okay, so I also heard that while she was by the stands, some guy jumped out from behind her. He was in a black cloak with the Slytherin emblem, but she thinks she saw some blonde hair."

Eyes glanced over at me, but I waved at the girl, motioning for her to continue. Soon attention was back on the storyteller.

"He pushed her to the ground, and she landed face-first. Her whole face and robes were covered with mud, and she started screaming."

I'm surprised I didn't hear her.

"He pushed her face further into the ground when she did that, so being the "genius" she is she stopped screaming. Which is exactly what he wanted—no one would know she was in trouble. Personally, I would have kept screaming and fighting."

More nodding and grumbling.

"Then he started whacking her over the head with some bat, and kicking her legs. He turned her over, and started punching her face, calling her 'Mudblood', and kicking her ribs. She got knocked out, and when she woke up, she was all alone."

It was silent in the room at this point.

"The only thing to remind her what had happened and who this person was, was the mud she was covered with, the pain in her stomach and head, memories of the black cloak with the Slytherin symbol and blond hair, and one other thing."

She paused here, and smiled broadly; obviously loving the suspense her audience had.

"This other thing: she was chained to a goalpost by a hand-cuff that had the initials: DM. She assumed it was you. End of story."

People started chattering again, conversing about their opinions of the story, or the versions they were told.

I however, was deep in thought. I was wondering what guy would be dumb enough to leave ANYONE chained to anything with his initials on the chain, beat someone "anonymously" but wear his House's symbol on his cloak, or have the same initials as me.

Then it hit me. David Markeez. I had had trouble with him last year. There had been a massive food fight, and guess who was responsible? David. But who was blamed? Me.

He was not the brightest kid, but he sure was biased and prejudiced. My father met him, and instantly loved him, because all the kid talks about is 'Mudbloods' this and 'joining the Dark Side' that. This, of course, meant that Blaise adored him, too.

I stormed up to his dorm room, where I found him snogging a fifth-year. I rolled my eyes and sighed, knocked on the already-open door, and chuckled when I saw their shocked faces which had been torn away from each other.

"I need to speak to David, missy." I said. I watched her leave, and then turned to David. "Y-yes?" he stammered. Good. I strike fear in people. I mentally rolled my eyes.

"I'm sure you've heard about what happened to…"I was going to say "Granger", but I thought he would be more comfortable with "mudblood". "the mudblood?"

He visibly relaxed, and slouched down on his bed. "Yeah. I heard about it. Of course I did, I did it!"

"You did, did you now?" I said. "Well, yeah!"

I stalked over to him, and I could see that he tensed up instantly.

"You see, I'm being blamed for it. It is not that I feel pity, and hey, it would be great for my cold reputation! However, it's the fact that I will be in serious trouble with the few friends Granger has accumulated. Understand?" I said.

"So what you're saying is that you want me to take the blame, for something I did do, which would get me in big trouble." He said slowly. Yeah, definitely not the brightest kid.

"Well, duh! I'm not taking your shit for you. Now go down there, tell them what you did, and if any Gryffindors come up to me, accusing me of what you did, stand up for me."

"No." And with that, he jumped up from his bed, and headed towards the door—probably going in search of that girl.

I threw a lamp at him; it hit him square in the head. He fell down, but didn't get knocked out. I stepped over him gingerly, making a 'humph' sound as I passed.

What was I going to do! I could tell the Gryffindors who actually did it, and advise that they take him and use some Veritaserum (we were learning how to use it…) on him and get the truth. But who would believe someone who was notorious for being a jackass! And, to top it off, I had just beaten the hell out of Harry Potter!

I left the Common Room, even though there was not that much time until lights-out. I just wanted to think of a way to get out of trouble for something that I didn't do. I could carry around some Veritaserum, and if they questioned me, I could drink it and tell them that I hadn't done it.

But I still didn't really know how to make it, and if I asked Snape for some of his Veritaserum, he would probably want to know why I wanted it. There was just no solution!

However, having time to think was not what Fate wanted for me, because who should I pass, but the Golden Trio, surrounded by a few other friends.

Weasley and Granger were actually paying attention to Potter, and Harry was hugging Hermione. As I neared them, I could hear Harry saying to Granger, "Yeah, I know, it definitely seems like something Malfoy would do."

When I came into their direct line of view, Weasley started walking towards me again, but Granger tugged on his arm and both of them settled for just glaring at me.

When I passed Harry, he shot me such a look I almost cried.

Almost.

It was so hateful, so full of utter loathing!2

And…possible embarrassment.

Harry had a black eye.

1: I apologize for the cheesiness there…

2Kati, lol…

A/N: I hope you loved this chap! Review, and tell me what you think! Once again, my sympathies for being soooooooo late!