Don't sue me I don't own anything! I'm poor! I live in a cardboard box beside the road eating government cheese and my single paycheck forwards itself toward my lovely 28k Internet! TAKE PITY ON THE NEEDY! (hee hee I'm just kidding! I'm not needy! I live on a nice little shack like house that is warm and I have a cat who is so fat he has utters.) Anyway you look at it I'm still not JK Rowling! ^_^

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Dinner tasted great just like every meal served at Hogwarts. Ron ate his pudding while he listened eagerly to Harry talking about Quidditch. We were both waiting for Hermione to come in for supper. Ron knew that both of them were in love with Hermione but he didn't think that Hermione was really interested in either of them like that.

"I think we can really beat Ravenclaw in the next match," Harry nodded confidently, "George planned out a pretty good strategy for us. I'm glad he likes Quidditch as much as he likes playing pranks."

"Mum always says they need to channel their energy into something positive instead of wasting time on silly tricks," Ron supplied.

"I know what your mum thinks of all that business but I think they can really go somewhere with it. It'd be a good business," Harry said.

"Maybe so," Ron agreed.

Then Hermione appeared and walked, with sort of a fake air about her, and sat down next to Harry. She tried to place a small smile upon her face and then began to eat a bit of food.

"Hello Hermione," Ron said watching her for a minute, "What took you?"

"…I was just researching a little bit in the library."

"Oh."

Silence.

"What sort of researching?" Harry asked what Ron was thinking.

"Nothing very interesting."

Silence.

"Are you purposely avoiding the question?" Harry asked.

"A bit."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"I won't lie to you," Hermione said spinning her fork around her mashed potatoes, "I'm not in quite a good mood lately. I'm in sort of a rut, you see. I'll get out of it."

"But what were you researching?" Harry pried.

"Inner eyesight."

"Divination stuff?" Harry asked bewildered, "I thought you didn't believe in that sort of stuff?"

"I don't know if I do. But I have a strange feeling and I wonder if it's some sort of premonition. I would ask Professor Trelawney if I didn't despise her."

Ron stifled a small laugh, "What sort of premonition?"

"A really bad feeling."

"Maybe you should tell the headmaster about it?" Harry suggested.

"We can't come running to the headmaster about every little nitpicking thing," she snapped a bit, "Just because I have a bad feeling doesn't mean we're all going to die. If I consulted with Professor Trelawney she'd just foretell my death and send me away."

"That's half true," Ron shrugged, "She's a mad old lady isn't she?"

Hermione smiled a true smile and said, "That's half true."

"If anything happens you'll be sure to tell us won't you?" Harry said, "We want you to know that we'll try to be here for you."

"I know," Hermione sighed.

"Well now that all that is settled," Ron smiled, "Let's get some actual eating done eh?"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. He hated this. He would sit here and endure this just like every other family bonding experience but he literally hated this with every fiber in his being.

"Draco," his father spun on his heel and faced him directly, "Do you know what you are to this family?"

'A pawn?' Draco wanted to retort but he held his tongue. He knew his father just liked to hear himself talk.

"You are the complete reflection of my brilliance. You show the world what I've raised you to be. Your grades effect my brilliance. Your attitude effects my brilliance. I will not have you snuff my brilliance to a glow."

'Was he using light references now? Did he run out of things to lecture on? Next he'll be calling himself God and how I'm like Jesus and how I am effects his people's worship.' Draco mentally sighed.

"I can't have you showing Potter any pity. I don't want you doing anything but embarrassing that red head fool, the Weasley."

'Yes, yes and make sure you call that Muggle 'mudblood' as much as you can in one sentence. She's nothing but a disgrace to how the wizarding world has become.' Draco thought.

"And make sure you call that Muggle fool of a girl 'mudblood' as much as you can in one sentence. She's nothing but a disgrace to how the wizarding world has lowered itself to," his father finished glaring out Draco's Hogwarts room window, "I want you to be crudest Slytherin at Hogwarts."

"Yes," Draco said simply, "I know."

"Don't forget it either!" his father spat veering around, "Voldemort has no use for weaklings!"

"Father," I dared to speak up, "Why are you so worried about what Voldemort wants?"

"Because as a Death Eater and as a person of power I want his confidence and respect," his father replied, "And you as a future Death Eater should want the same!"

'Future, my eye.' Draco thought. 'I won't let some crazy old man control my life or me.'

Draco couldn't take it. He had to tell him. He had to tell him now or he'd forsake every piece of humanity he'd ever thought he'd had.

"Father how can you take pride in letting someone control you?" he vented hotly, "You can't possibly think you have freedom! Because all you do revolves around him, about how he sees us, can't you see that?"

"Keep your tongue, boy!" his father turned around and pointed his own wand directly at his forehead and uttered 'glacialis' and then 'adflicto affligo'.

Draco felt his skin grow icy cold and the heat evaporate. His father had turned his flesh icy cold, like a dead person's would feel. Then he was taking away any heat he had once possessed and his energy and sucking it into his wand. He winced as he fell out of his chair and flat on the wooden floor. It was so cold.

Draco started to shiver and his teeth chattered. He could feel his blood curdling in his veins and trying to form into some sort of solid as they too froze. But his father stopped his curses and put away his wand. He bent down and leered at Draco.

"You'll think twice about talking to me like that again. Worthless boy! Don't think that if you don't do all that I say I will spare your life. No, your death will be slow and painful. But not just your death, no, I will take those three infamous brats' lives too. Do you understand?" his father said coldly, "Your life energy will be given to Lord Voldemort, if you care to know."

Draco's teeth chattered again as he tried to make a response but his father had already stepped over his freezing body and out of the room. He didn't care whether Draco was all right or not.

He heard his father talking to Crabbe and Goyle outside the room.

"Make sure he stays in line," his father said in a superior tone, "Report to me if anything has not been done."

"Yes," Crabbe and Goyle had said in unison.

Draco shivered again and tried to curl up into a warmer position but he had lost so much energy that his body would not move accordingly with his brain's commands.

Draco felt like this would be the perfect time for a good cry. But Draco didn't remember how to cry. He knew how to taunt, embarrass, and insult but he didn't remember how it felt to care or be cared for. He wondered how the world saw him. He wondered how the world saw Crabbe and Goyle. Did they see them as his bodyguards? Sure they could be called that but they were really just spies for my father. They would punish him with their meaty fists too if he had missed a shot to upswing Potter.

How could he show them that he didn't mean what he said? He felt ashamed of the way he had to act to them. He might not especially like Potter or Weasley but he didn't like to hurt their feelings time after time.

And Hermione… He didn't want to hurt her either. He didn't purposely like her either but he felt something about her. There was always a strange emotion creeping up on him whenever he saw her. He knew it wasn't hate or disgust. He knew those emotions well. It was a warm feeling.

Warmth…

He needed to see Hermione right this instant. Jumping into a fire wouldn't make his body warmer than he felt when he was watching her. Although it was selfish of him to just go and see her to help himself warm up he was a little afraid that his father had gone a little far this time. If he didn't recover soon he didn't think he'd be in a very healthy situation.

So he struggled with his legs and leaned against anything sturdy to help him into a standing position. He stuck his head out of the room and scanned the area. Crabbe and Goyle most likely went patrolling since they figured Draco couldn't even sit up let along go out and wreak havoc. This was the perfect chance to get out unguarded.

He walked as fast as he could, which was a very slow pacing limp, out of the common room and into the hallway. Where would Hermione be? He headed in the most direct route to the library. It was a little late out but he was sure that she would be there. At least he prayed she would be.

He panted heavily, it was enough work just to lift his feet, but he saw it, the library door. He couldn't give up now. He threw himself at the door and it pushed itself open.

There she was. Hermione. She was sitting quietly at a table reading some book. He took the sight of her. Her long fluffy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face while reading, her chocolate eyes were fixated on the letters that made themselves into words.

Draco felt the warm feeling again and his skin started to tingle like when your leg falls asleep and then is in the process of waking up. But it wasn't enough. He had to touch her to feel true warmth. It was a crazy and brainless move to make but he had to do it. He unconsciously already made that decision when he saw her.