Chapter Six: The complicated life of a dragon

Draco opened his eyes. It was still dark out, but Draco knew it was morning. He looked to the clock and it read 5:59. He sighed, he was still tired. He had just had a seven hour restless sleep. He had tossed and turned, hoping to find some mercy on his thoughts but as always in his life there was no mercy, only with Blaise. His thoughts of Hermione had never left his mind. In his mind he was now addressing her as Hermione, even if he knew he couldn't in person or ever in his life.

I saved her life. My father would be disappointed in me for these actions, yet I'm not ashamed not of them still. Why? Draco sighed. My father isn't a threat; he wouldn't do worse then wound me. He couldn't kill me, he wants to use me as a tool once my 18th birthday hits in April of next year. It's Granger. And my father. It's my father because he will take action for my actions yesterday and its Granger because I fear saving her life may have altered the feelings I've been brought up to feel for her. Draco sighed getting up from his bed, in fact with every thought that crossed his mind, it caused Draco to sigh. Things were so confusing and none the less complicated.

It all seemed to make sense when my father would tell me how to put the Weasley's down, how to harp on mudbloods, that it did not matter if I had made friends with Potter or not, because regardless I would help in the plot of his death. But Draco was now finding out for himself that maybe his father was wrong. Since the past year his father had escaped from Azkaban and used their basement as a hiding and meeting place for all Death Eaters. Even Voldemort himself; Draco came to find he looked just as malicious as he sounded.

What is so bad about being good? Being happy? Not following the Dark Lord? Draco was sure he would find that out if he tried to not follow the Dark Lord after his 18th Birthday. He knew his father had control over him, but the truth was Voldemort had control over Lucius. He was like Voldemort's little bitch doing every thing Voldemort ordered, thinking he was some kind of loyal noble for the dark side. Draco stepped into the shower and turned the tap so the shower would beat down on his chest. He turned around and let the water fall down his hair and back.

As he washed his hair he wondered how his life ever became so complicated in a split second. Before this and before Pansy was annoying it had been so simple. He was better than every one; he was to make himself and every one around believe that. If he could not bate Potter into being his friend he would be his nemesis and any of his friends were to receive the same amount of suffering. And the fact his father had found flaws of their own in Potter's friends caused Draco to torment them even more. Ron Weasley was poor with a large family that all had flaming red hair and all hammy-downs. Draco was taught to comment on it every time he had the chance. And then there was her, the mudblood.

Draco had been taught only in second year of Granger being a mudblood, when they saw her muggle parents talking to Mr. Weasley in Diagon Alley. Once they had had their little chat with the trio, Lucius had told Draco to never let her forget she didn't belong at Hogwarts. Or any where they considered her a witch for that matter. But she does. Draco remembered how he had defended against his father at first. The limp. But that wasn't right, even if it killed me I shouldn't have let him win. Draco remembered it perfectly. He had always known mudbloods didn't deserve to be at Hogwarts, but he never even considered she was one due to her intelligence. She is a more capable witch then Pansy, any other witch in her year and she is more capable then most Seventh years. But Draco's father convinced him she only studied endlessly to make it seem like she belonged at that school. The voice of his fathers said in his head "no body likes a know-it-all", which Snape had learned to use more then Draco himself.

The next step of his simple planned life was to become a death eater after leaving Hogwarts. To inherit his fathers property and wealth if any thing would happen to him for defending the Dark Lord, and carry on the Malfoy blood line as a servant to darkness, with a pureblood witch, even if it had to be Pansy. But since the beginning Sixth year, once facing this fact of life had started to not make sense to him he started to bring up his marks in school, not to show his father he was smarter then Granger, he was already under pressure to do that. But to show himself that there could possibly be another answer to the rest of his life then making others miserable and himself in the process.

Draco now found it almost pointless to make fun of people but he knew he dare not stop because how could he let people that thought they knew him so well has a horrible person know that he was actually less then appalling. The only person that knew Draco was getting sick of his fathers arranged life for him was Blaise.

Blaise was the only friend Draco had that had not judged him. That had not befriended him just because he was scared. He knew the real him before Draco himself did. Draco actually even didn't like Blaise at the beginning for contradicting why he made fun of people in second year when he had went to talk to him about his leg and his father for the first time. But then Blaise made sense. He read his thoughts and explained their meaning some how. But it all still left Draco in a puddle of confusion. Because as much as school made him happy, safe and helped him forget about his father, he knew that within two weeks he would be returning back to it.

Draco turned the shower off and began to get ready. He rubbed a towel harshly through his short hair and put on a fresh pair of boxers a long with a clean uniform. He left his sweater and cloak off as he did his hair. Ever since fourth year he had began gelling it once more. I really need a change. Draco sighed gelling back his hair perfectly with the same old gel he had been using since he was 7. He washed the spare gel off his hands and looked out the window, the sun was now rising.

It's beautiful. Just as he had that thought another related one came into his mind. Hermione Granger...Granger? He argued it in his mind for a moment but he could not deny looking at that the golden horizon. He saw the same beauty in Granger. What am I thinking? Draco asked himself hitting his head. He shut the drapes, picked up his bag and left his room to go see Snape.

The Common Room was scarce, far be it for a Slytherin to get up at a proper hour. Before he left he took a piece of parchment from his bag and wrote a note to Blaise pushing it under his door explaining he would meet him in Potions. The halls were empty except for the common house elf dusting before most of the students awoke. The portraits were still sleeping, he noticed as he came towards the dungeons. He knew Snape's quarters connected to his office so went there instead of the dungeon classroom.

He knocked on the door hoping the professor would be up. He looked at his watch and it read 6:45. The door opened revealing a tired Snape.

"Did I wake you Professor?" Draco asked.

"No no, not at all Draco," he said letting Draco into his office, "What can I do for you?" he said sitting in his chair.

"Well I don't know if you're aware yet but Granger, Hermione Granger, she's in the Hospital Wing, I'd like to-,"

"Why may I ask is Granger in the Hospital Wing, Malfoy?" Snape asked sternly hoping Malfoy was not responsible.

"Oh, uh, she fell, Professor. Off of the switching stair cases and I caught her; I was just wondering if I could bring her the work from today, Madam Pomfrey said she will be up within a day. So I thought I could bring her work from each class,"

"Why not?" Snape said in the relief he would not have to take points from his own house, "I'll give you the work once class is over. Tell me Draco, why such an interest in Granger, dare I say mudblood?"

"Well, I-...Professor, is your arm okay?" Draco asked noticing Snape took a wince of pain and clutched his forearm that was under his black robes. Snape was silent for a moment, probably trying to find words.

"This is no matter, just returned from your manor actually," Snape explained. It was not casually Snape discussed this matter with Draco, "both the Dark Lord and Lucius are asking about you, mind you the purpose of the meeting was more than that," Snape smiled at Draco who began to look worried, "do not fear, I told them nothing bad. And if you would like I will not mention this incident to them?"

Draco thought for a moment and thought it would probably be better if no one did find out about this, "Yes, please don't Professor,"

"Do you need any thing else Draco?" Snape said obviously forgetting the question he had asked Draco to answer from the pain he must of had in his arm.

"No," Draco wanted to ask Snape if he really gave Voldemort the real information about this school. He wanted to have long discussions with why he insisted on working for both sides. Most of all he wondered why some one would work for Voldemort but decided to leave it till next year, when it was more significant. He had came for a favor and got it, he no longer was needed here, "thank you Professor,"

"You're welcome Draco," Snape said.

Draco left the Professor to his arm. He was happy he got what he came for but was now reconsidering the matter. This is silly. I am going to be a death eater in less then a year and I'm considering having feelings for a mudblood. He went to the Quidditch Pitch, knowing it would be empty and free at this time. This was one of the last times he would get to fly at school. He knew Slytherin had been taken out in the finals by Ravenclaw, but the thought no longer bothered him. He was studying their techniques, the techniques they would carry on next year instead of looking for the Snitch. So when Draco became Captain next year, of course if Goyle hadn't, then he would know how to defend against them. As Draco got on his Nimbus and kicked off the ground he breathed in the air. I will win the cup next year. He soared around and looked at his watched it read: 7:23. He had a half an hour left to fly and then he had to make it to Potions.

Draco didn't feel like breakfast. Just like flying into the sky and forgetting his problems for the time he could. He some times wished he could just fly away, maybe some day I will. Would I ever be that lucky? To just fly away...Draco closed his eyes and let the wind carry him, though he still had complete control over his broom. It was always this time he imagined any thing was possible, because down on the ground just about every thing seemed to be impossible.