((A.N. Ah... Chapter 2. The madness continues. Thanks to reviewers hermyandronforevr, Fairy of the Black Oleander, me'shell's-shadow, and Lyly. Our only reviewers. We love you... except for that one guy who told us our story was a complete and utter failure and that no one wants to read this worthless piece of scum. But besides that.))

Chapter 2; Draco's Past


It was Draco's fifth birthday, and his parents had given him presents.

With wide eyes, little Draco opened his mother's present. It was a maroon sweater with a large 'D' on the front.

"Thank you, Mother," Draco said sweetly. "I will wear it to school when I am older."

His mother smiled. Draco failed to notice his father, who was throwing poisonous darts at a helpless bunny rabbit.

He picked up his father's present with an angelic expression. It had a shiny red bow on the top, and was wrapped in red and white stripes.

He peeled it open innocently. Inside of the box was a single piece of paper. Draco opened it.

You are a worthless piece of scum. Happy Birthday. Your father.

Draco's little eyes filled with tears.


It was Draco's first time on a broom. He was seven.

Lucius said, "Here, young Draco. Allow me to help you on."

Lucius carefully placed his son on top the broom. He took out his wand and muttered a spell.

"Have a nice trip," he said quietly, before pushing Draco off the hill.

He watched Draco tried to keep control of the broom. Little did Draco know that Lucius had lit the back of it on fire.

"AHHHHHHH!"

He crashed into the side of the hill.

"You are a worthless piece of scum!" Lucius yelled.


It was Draco's first night at Hogwarts, and the First Years had just entered their dormitories.

"Look!" cried Crabbe. "My daddy sent me some candy!"

"My daddy sent me a new pair of shoes!" said Pansy happily.

Blaise walked in. "My daddy sent me a pack of Exploding Snap."

All three simultaneously turned toward Draco. "What'd you get, Draco?" They chorused.

Draco opened a present. It was a small ticking clock attached to a few red sticks. As Draco looked closer, he saw there was a note attached.

"You are a worthless . . . piece . . . of . . ."

BOOM.


It was Draco's first Quidditch match. His father was sitting in the stands near the announcer.

Draco and Harry started diving for the Snitch.

"And they're neck and neck . . ." started the announcer, but Lucius grabbed the microphone out of the announcer's hands and threw him into the crowd.

"C'MON YOU SISSY! GRAB THE DAMN SNITCH!"

Harry grabbed it.

"DRACO. YOU ARE A WORTHLESS PIECE OF SCUM!"

The whole crowd started chanting worthless piece of scum.


Draco woke up. Bad dream, he thought slowly.

Draco reached onto his bedside table and took two Ibuprofen. Then two more. Two more. Two more. Two more.

He heard a pounding at his door.

He took two more.

Then he answered it.

Draco was a dark, brooding, and depressed teenager. He was an abused child. He was a fallen angel. He was an evil person. His soul was scarred permanently. People like Potter did not understand what kind of life he'd had. No one understood him. No one felt his pain, his suffering, his agony.

He opened the door.

It was Hermione Granger.

He slammed it, took two more, and opened it again.

"Malfoy," she said dramatically. "You're a dark, brooding, and depressed teenager. I understand your pain, your suffering, your agony. But this isn't about you. Your nemesis is dying. Harry is dying."

"Why should I care? You know I'm only out for myself."

He looked dark, threatening, angry, and yet somehow appealing in the moonlight. He poured drain cleaner into his coffee and took a huge gulp.

Drawing in a deep breath, Hermione pulled a shiny object out of her pocket.

"You don't know what this is, do you, Draco?"

He pulled a glue bottle out of his pocket and took a whiff.

"It's a pirate medallion," he said between sniffs.

Hermione smirked.

"This is Aztec gold. But this is only half of the full medallion. Together, the two pieces form. The Amulet of Destiny. Do you know where the other half is?"

Draco injected himself with a needle of heroin.

Slowly, he pulled a shiny object out of his pocket. It was the other half of the medallion.

"Do you know what this means, Draco?"

Draco took a chug of vodka. "No."

"It means that . . . you and Harry are long. Lost. Brothers. You have to go to him, Draco, or he will die!"

Draco sighed. "You are attempting to presuppose an alternate reality in which I actually care."

Hermione slapped him across the face.

"I'm not quite sure I deserved that one," Draco said, confused.

"You do realize that we keep quoting Pirates of the Caribbean, don't you?" Hermione asked with a dramatic stomp of her foot.

"Shut up, I'm a troubled child. Woe is me . . . woe is me . . ."

While Draco was blubbering aimlessly, Hermione grabbed his wrist and dragged him to see Harry Potter.


Cho Chang was sobbing with abandon in front of Severus Snape. Normally this behavior would have invoked vomiting and other sounds of repulsion from the Potions Master, but he would restrain himself from doing so until he was off the job. Yes . . . Severus Snape had become a Motivational Psychiatrist. A shrink. A good for nothing . . .

Shut up, Snape told himself. Pull yourself together.

Cho was looking at him oddly. Had he said that aloud?

"Well... Chang... I mean... Cho..." he started, racking his brain for some illegitimate excuse that would console the girl. Her puppy had run off into the Forbidden Forest. It was never coming back.

Cho was staring at him again. Had he said it out loud once more? Damn.

"See, Cho, Fluffy is only metaphorically lost in the woods. She need only find herself in order to find her way out of the woods. Do you understand?"

Cho stopped sniffing for a moment and looked up. "R . . .Really? You think so?"

"I know so," Snape said in a comforting voice. She smiled a watery smile at him.

"Thanks, Professor . . . I mean . . . counselor. . . Snape."

Snape grimaced inwardly. That's the biggest piece of bullshit I've ever made up in my life, he thought savagely.

Cho burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Snape had always had the crippling problem of saying things out loud. It was no good for a psychiatrist.

Ron Weasely burst into the room with a gigantic smirk that covered at least half of his demonic face. Snape was suddenly very worried.

Snape checked his wristwatch. "Your appointment isn't for another thirty minutes."

"It's urgent," Ron said angrily, slamming his fists on the desk. His eyes turned red and he exhaled smoke through his nostrils.

"What is it? You're pregnant? Your family is filing bankruptcy . . . again? Or is it that you have finally become so jealous of Harry Potter that you have been hired as an assassin for the Great Lord Voldemort in order to obtain compensation for your otherwise worthless and mundane existence?"

Ron smiled. "I need a weapon. A really . . . big . . . weapon."

"I think I know what you are referring to," Snape said quietly.

Ron's expression became horrified as Snape began unbuttoning his robes.

"Do you mean . . . this!" Snape roared, throwing open his cloak.

Ron screamed and covered his eyes, backing away.

"No, you idiot!" Snape roared. "Look!"

Ron took a peak through his fingers. On the inside of Snape's robes were a thousand knives, guns, tranquilizers, grenades, and all other manner of threatening weapons.

"I'll take them all!" Ron hissed evilly, slamming down a giant bag of Galleons. Snape decided not even to ask where Ron had gotten those from. He just accepted.

"I want to make sure Potter is good and dead," Ron said quietly. "Give me ten bullets for every reason that I hate Potter."

Snape handed Ron one hundred bullets with a smirk.

"Give me the cloak too," Ron wheedled. There was no way he could be inconspicuous with guns, knives, and grenade launchers hanging out of his pockets.

"No," Snape said slowly.

Snape awoke some time later. He had no cloak. It had been his favorite cloak. He was bitter.

"Damn. He got away," Snape growled with conviction.


Ron was romping about the halls of Hogwarts with a giant rocket launcher mounted on his shoulder. Seven knives were hanging off of his belt, and under the cloak were various weapons of all shapes and sizes.

"Hi, Ron," Parvati chirruped, smiling at him as he stomped down the hall.

"Where's Harry?" Ron interrogated, a maniacal grin plastered onto his face.

"He went that way," Parvati said casually,

Ron turned like a jackal catching scent of a rabbit.

"Death," he hissed satanically.

He trotted down the hall, balancing the humongous and indiscreet rocket launcher. He loaded it up.

Professor McGonagall suddenly stepped into his path. She looked at the massive gun once and frowned.

"Is everything alright, Mr. Weasely?" she questioned, concern coming over her features.

Ron rotated his head 360 degrees and projectile vomited to the right of her person. A hole seared into the wall where the vomit had been.

"Everything is fine," Ron said heinously, grinning a bright sharp grin. His eyes turned red and he scampered away without another word.

"Teenage hormones," McGonagall observed nonchalantly, and pulled out her wand to clean up the acid on the wall.

((A.N. Next time . . . Tom Riddle comes back from the dead, Ginny discovers that she has an evil twin sister, Blaise has a sex change . . . again, and Draco races to catch up with Harry. Lucius and Wormtails assassination attempts go awry because of a certain red-headed maniac, and Snape councils more people. The drama.))