Chapter Two:

(It recaps a bit in the beginning… lot more detail though)

Draco walked through the manor without really saying a word to either of his parents or the house elves that gathered at his feet, eagerly asking him if he wanted anything. He just clutched the strap of his bag tightly to his tailored shirt and continued to walk through the house. Once at the front doors his mother stopped him. She looked him in the eye and knew something was wrong.

"Draco…" Draco only looked at his mother. He knew what she was thinking, but he didn't feel like talking to her or anyone else for that matter. He sighed and looked away from his mother. He rubbed his thumb over the strap of his pack and pushed through the front door of the Manor. His mother ran her hand along his shoulder as he left his home, but he still did not turn around to look or speak to her or his father.

He slowly made it down the stone steps of the Manor and across the freshly cut lawn. The flowers in the garden brought an array of colors to Malfoy Manor that made it seem somewhat pleasant. Sighing, he walked past the fountain on the front lawn and back to the pavement of the drive. He looked up to see a fancy white car waiting at the end of the drive. The driver would greet him as he always did and then it would be a silent ride to London.

Draco stared up at the green leaves of the trees and thought of how they would soon be dead and lying on the ground, waiting for the grounds' keeper to come pick them up. Draco bitterly shook the thoughts from his head. He didn't care for anyone other then himself and his family. He walked the last few steps to the end of the drive and pulled open the car door. The shimmering silver metal of the handle cool to his touch, he yanked his hand away and got inside. He, a bit too hard, pulled the door shut.

"Morning Master Malfoy," the chubby old man driving greeted the distraught young man in the back seat. Draco just waved his hand, as if to tell the man to leave him alone because he was not in the bloody mood to deal with him. The man took notice to the gesture and left the young man in the back to himself. Draco never cared much for the workers at the Manor and he never would.

"It will be a long drive," the chubby man driving finally said. "S'posed to rain as well."

"I don't bloody give a damn!" Draco snapped. He had told the fat man in the front that he wanted to be left alone and Draco expected to be listened to; after all, the only reason the man even had a job was because his parents couldn't be bothered with doing it themselves. Not this year anyway.

The fat man in the front stared into the rearview mirror, hurt, watching Draco cross his arms across his chest and continue staring out the window. "Eyes on the road you dimwit!" Draco snapped again. Normally he wouldn't have even bothered to talk to the driver, but he was having a rather difficult morning and he just couldn't keep control of his nasty temper. The man driving gave a short squeak before returning to his job. He ignored Draco the rest of the way.

However much Draco wished he could drift off to sleep or perhaps stare blankly into the window his mind continued to reel around thoughts of death and the eerie green lake behind his house. Two very unpleasant thoughts on their own, combined, however, they become much… much worse.

In desperate attempt to rid his mind of all thought, he pulled out a packet of paper and drawing pencils and began to doodle. His father had let him know at a young age, mind you, that one should do things to make them seem more sophisticated. It's the only reason Draco ever learned how to play the Violin. His father had grabbed him by the arm and held him tight, telling Draco that he was to learn how to play it and play it well. Three hours a day his father made him play, at first he was bitter about it, but continued to learn. After a few years of playing, and playing well, he enjoyed it more. He used it often as a way to express himself in ways words could not come close to. Being a rich pureblood, such as himself, high standards were sure to follow. Sure enough, Draco's ability to serenade listeners with his music came somewhat of a delight to others. Draco's father had no problem with music. Drawing, however, Draco's father was more displeased with. A talent all on its own, it was not something that most Pureblood families looked at as delightful, so Draco kept it to himself. He did not want to displease his father, for he looked up to the man, as most sons' do with their father.

As Draco's pencil glided across the parchment all thoughts of his dead friend seemed to slip away. He didn't know what he was drawing and he didn't care, he'd most likely rid himself of the evidence later anyway. All he knew was that it was working and that's all he was looking for. A secret remedy to the pain of the thoughts.

He had no idea how long he had been drawing or when it had started to rain outside, but when he finished his picture it didn't really matter. He tore the picture out of the book and looked at it. He smirked slightly then folded the paper and stuck it back in his book. He stuffed the book into his bag without a second's thought of it. He hated that drawing was often his only remedy to clear his mind when he couldn't play music. He didn't want to go against his father in any way and he found himself angry with himself that he found some pleasure in doing so. He assumed he got that from his lovely mother, she didn't mind drawing, nor, for that matter, pure talent. If it gave satisfaction to her son she would look around it.

"You all right, Master Malfoy?" The driver asked, voice low and unsteady. Draco looked up slightly and nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

With a low sigh Draco went back to staring out the window. The countryside was vast and green and that annoyed him too. Draco liked trees, big shady trees; the type of trees that you could just sit under all day, though he never voiced it and probably never would. Only one person knew that secret: Cree.

Draco shivered slightly as her name ran through his mind. He couldn't explain it, but it felt as if the air around him was somehow colder than before. He shrugged it off and stared back out the window. His mind slowly shut down as he zoned out, in an odd sort of sleep- state. He knew exactly what he was staring at and what he heard, but none of it was registering in his mind. A light stupor if you will.

The rain outside began to fall against the car like a blanket. Thick and hard to see through, but Draco took no notice to the fact he could no longer clearly see through his window. The only thing that brought Draco back out of this stupor was what he had thought he'd seen through the shield of rain. He could have sworn he had seen, off in the distance, a figure standing there, but after it settled in his mind and he squinted out of the window again there was no sign of a figure.

He knew it wasn't impossible to have seen the said figure in the distance because the country side was owned by other people and sometimes they often did take a stroll around the green landscape. Yet, the figure that he had seen, or rather thought he had seen, was different. When he saw it he could have sworn his blood ran cold, but what he couldn't understand was why only a glimpse at something that could have been something else entirely, would irk him so. It could have very well been a bloody tree, he tried convincing himself, but it was to no use. He knew exactly what his eyes had fallen upon and he knew very well it had been a person.

With a groan he slumped back into the seat cushions. The ride to King's Cross was taking a lot longer than he had wished it would. He lived nearly six hours away from King's Cross station and he had been denied access to a fireplace to just floo to Diagon Alley and then go from there. His father did not want his son going to school with soot and dust all over his clothes.

Growling in frustration and boredom he pulled out yet another book, but it wasn't a drawing book, nor was it a school one. It was something he had picked up long ago in Diagon Alley. Flipping through the pages Draco found the perfect place to begin. He sat there and let the minutes slip away as his eyes skimmed each page with great interest. He took his time memorizing every word his eyes fell upon. He was no slow reader, but he was a careful one when he wanted to be. It was not news that if he found a book he actually liked, he would read it with care.

"Boy, I am going to stop here quickly. You wait here in the car and I'll be back shortly," the fat man said. Draco only raised a brow and then went back to reading. The man obviously was either extremely hungry and had found a place to stuff his face, or he had to piss. Draco shrugged.

Now that the car had stopped Draco could hear every pound that the rain made on the hood of the car. Rhythmically steady; a heartbeat of nature. Draco laughed at himself, it was no time to start thinking the way he was.

He sighed but nearly choked when he noticed the air around him had gone considerably colder, causing him to see his own breath. A little unnerved by the current event he sat back a little further into his seat. Just as quickly as the cold air had surrounded him, it had left. He was left with only the cold feeling it had left inside and the sound of the pouring rain. Relieved by it, Draco sat up and looked at the window again. Now that the car was still Draco couldn't see out of it for the rain was flowing down it like a waterfall. When he left there had been clear blue skies and now, not that long after, it was pouring like it wouldn't stop. As much as he loved England, he hated the weather.

He smirked and began to look around the car for anything that would possibly interest him. He found a sickle lying on the front seat, which he discreetly put into his own pocket and then began on his search again. He found nothing of real interest to him, besides the sickle. With a stretch of his arms Draco let his eyes wander slightly to the left before looking down at his pack again. He stuck his hand in, and pulled out the book of parchment once more. He opened it and removed the folded piece of paper and stuck that in the outer part of his pack. He grabbed one of his dark resolution pencils and started to draw again. It made him so angry he enjoyed doing it so, but he couldn't stop it. It was a contagious habit; if he started it he had to continue it.

Deciding to leave well enough alone, he began to draw the outline of a figure. The pencil moved smoothly against the parchment as he shaded and added detail to the girl. He just let his mind guide him as he drew. The more his mind escaped him, the more the details of the girl's face and body appeared. It felt as if something in the back of his head was telling him exactly what to do and how to do it.

With the last stroke of his pencil the lead snapped, leaving a dark dot in its place. He sighed and looked up, the rain had decreased, but the driver had not come back yet. "What the bloody hell is taking that man so long?" Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something move in the seat next to him. He sat still in his seat, as if to not disturb what he saw move. Observing his bag, from the corner of his eye of course, he knew well it couldn't have been it nor the strap. He couldn't tell why it unnerved him, but it did.

However, this irritated Draco. He was a Malfoy and a Slytherin, meaning he was supposed to be both fearless and a wimp. Draco shook his head at that, made no sense to him. Without a second's thought Draco turned his head to the left and what his eyes fell upon caused him to jerk back against the door and grasp for the handle. His hand was shaking as it searched for the door handle. No thought running through his head besides that he needed to get out of that car, and soon.

"Bloody fuck!" He growled as the door swung open, knocking him on the drenched earth. As quickly as he could he pushed himself as far away from the car as he could, heart bounding sickeningly in his throat. Finally tearing his eyes away from the car door Draco flipped himself over onto his stomach before throwing up. For minutes Draco lay like that, breath not coming easy.

"Master Malfoy, are you all right?" The worried voice of the fat driver came from behind him. Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position. He never felt so sickened by himself ever. He used his rain and mud soaked sleeve to wipe of his face and looked up at the man standing beside him.

"Get me out of here…" Draco said, voice raspy and low. As the man helped Draco off of the ground, he stole a glance towards the car. There was absolutely nothing in the back seat besides his pack and packet of parchment, which was now on the floor.

"Dear boy, what happened?" Draco glared at the man and pushed him away.

"Just get me out of here!" Draco snapped, now yelling at the old man. "I want out of here as quickly as possible!" Draco stormed back to the car, but hesitated slightly.

"Young Malfoy, at least let me dry… " He stopped quickly and Draco turned and glared again. The man just pulled out his wand and uttered a few words before Draco's lovely tailored clothes were back to normal. He hesitantly got into the car and waited for the man to get in. I am NOT losing my mind, I just need more sleep, Draco assured himself. "This will not be spoken of again, you hear me?" Draco mentioned, threateningly. The man nodded, but said nothing else. He just drove away without word to the young Malfoy.

Nearly five hours later Draco was sitting in a compartment alone. He had met up with his mates a little while before, but at the current moment, he wanted to be alone. He couldn't explain what happened in the car earlier and he wouldn't try to. He was content with ignoring it completely and that was what he was going to do. Everything would settle back into place and he would be able to forget about Cree, or he would try.

Draco leaned back on the seat cushion closed his eyes, trying to bring on sleep. He let his hand slip off of his stomach and down the side of the seat. It now dangled just above the pad of parchment. Drawn on the page was a young girl, not much older than fifteen. She had flowing hair and plain clothes and yet she had a natural beauty about her. Draco had drawn this girl quite often, but he never understood why. He wanted to figure out why he was drawing her and in all actuality, who she was. She seemed so familiar, but he couldn't place her. One day…Draco thought as he drifted off into sleep.

'Seventh year Draco, can you believe it?" The strawberry blonde smiled. She twirled, causing her blue skirt to twirl open. She laughed and pushed down her skirt. Draco just simply nodded. He couldn't break it to her that he just wasn't the same person she thought she knew, that he liked being bad.

"I like you Draco," he sat forward to hear what she had to say and smirked. "But I've seen the way you treat others." She looked put down and sad, something Draco was not used to seeing on her face.

"What do you mean?" His heart was beating hard, he didn't want to hurt her; he never did. He just wasn't whom she thought she knew.

"You're mean…" She said flatly. " Why are you this way?" The hurt in her voice seemed to be overpowering. He couldn't understand why she was so hurt, he was nothing but kind to her. He knew he wasn't, even when he was told to be he couldn't. He cared for her.

"It's just who I am, all right? It doesn't matter to you!" He snapped. He had said it to her before he could catch himself and he wished, more than anything, that he hadn't said it. Her eyes, her beautiful hazel eyes were brimming with tears.

"You are a bad person Draco. Evil," she told him. Draco was sure that she would hit him and walk away from him forever, but she didn't. Instead she leaned closer to him and rested her soft lips on his. Neither one pulled away, but Draco could feel her hand on his cheek. Her skin against his was like ice. The kiss, the caress, and just everything it was as cold as ice. All of it was completely full of hatred. She hated him.

Swiftly, she pushed him onto his butt after slapping him. She glared at him before saying, "It's all your fault."

Before it completely registered in his mind, she was gone from him. Draco sat on the ground holding his cheek and staring at the spot she once stood. When he brought his hand from his cheek, there was blood on the palm. She had clawed him.

Draco sat up on the train seat. He looked around and when it finally settled in his mind that he was on the train to Hogwarts, he calmed. "That is the last time I eat chocolate before sleeping," he mumbled to himself.

He sat up all the way and rested his back against the wall. Just as he took a deep breath the compartment door slid open and Pansy and Blaise walked in. He was about to snap at them for not obeying what he asked of them, but Pansy cut him off.

"Draco, what's wrong with your cheek?" She asked, worried. Draco was her friend after all. Draco eyed her curiously before she handed him a compact mirror from her bag. Draco brought the mirror up to the side of his face and glanced at it from the corner of his eye. Sure enough there were three little red marks.

"Scratched it."

Blaise looked at him suspiciously, but let it go in the end, as did Pansy. Draco, however, knew exactly where it came from and he was still trying to understand it.

"Draco what the hell is this?" Blaise leaned down from his seat on the bench to pick up the book of parchment and looked at it. Draco grabbed the book from Blaise and what his eyes fell upon shocked him. He now recognized where the girl was from, but above that 'It's all your fault!' was scribbled.

Cree.……