Chapter 1- A Fallen Angel

Draco stepped into the Head Tower, Hermione close behind, barely listening to Professor McGonagall while she explained the regulations of being a Head Student. He barely noticed the lavish furnishings of the Common Room, his mind fixed on one thing; the death of his mother.

Draco's world, though he took great lengths not to show it, revolved around Narcissa. Everything that he did, he did so that he could see the quiet approval and happiness in his mother's eyes.

Now, though, all he could remember about his mother's eyes were when they were glazed over in death, expressionless… staring.

All through Draco's life, Lucius had prohibited Narcissa to show her love for Draco, wanting Draco to grow up as cold and as cruel as he was, wanting Draco to take delight in torturing and killing other people.

But mother never wanted that.

Flashback:

Draco winced when Lucius' silver tipped boot collided once again with his cheek bone. Draco felt his jaw crack, a trickle of blood escaping from the corner of his mouth.

"Now," hissed lucius into Draco's ear, grabbing a handful of Draco's hair and jerking his head upward "now you know better than to get beaten by a mudblood, don't you Draco?"

"Y-yes father," gulped Draco. Lucius, of course, was talking about Draco being outranked by Hermione.

"Good," said Lucius, throwing Draco forcefully away from him. Draco felt a throb of pain as his head crashed cruelly on the rough stone floor of the Malfoy dungeon.

Draco heard his father slamming the door shut after him.

The beatings had started when Hogwarts mailed a list of the Honor students to their parents. Lucius had been enraged to find out that a mudblood had outranked Draco, even though it had been by mere decimal points.

All that kept Lucius from beating his son to death was the knowledge that if Draco died, there would be no one left to inherit the Malfoy fortune.

A few minutes passed before Draco heard the familiar footsteps of his mother. Every night since the letter from Hogwarts had arrived had passed like this; Lucius beating him up and then Narcissa coming in secret to care for him.

The door creaked open and Narcissa came in, looking anxious and harried.

"My God!" gasped Narcissa when she saw the damage inflicted by lucius unto Draco.

She cradled Draco's head in her hands, sobs wracking her body. She knew that if she Healed Draco, lucius would find out and hurt Draco even more.

"Don't cry, mother," said Draco weakly, coughing up blood when he did. He knew that no matter how hard Lucius beat him up, he would be fine because he knew that his mother was always there.

End Flashback

Not anymore.

Just two weeks after arriving home for the summer break, Lucius had returned to beating Draco up every night. One night, after beating Draco, Narcissa came to tend him. Lucius came back and flew into a rage when he saw Narcissa caring for Draco, saying that Draco deserved everything Lucius gave him.

Then, he started beating Draco in front of Narcissa. She had tried to stop him, and he started hitting her instead. Draco was too hurt to stand.

I felt so goddamn helpless, lying there and not being able to do anything.

That night had been the turning point for Draco. When he was well enough, he had convinced his mother to run away from home with him, to go anywhere away from Lucius.

Unfortunately, Lucius found out about their plan, but Draco and Narcissa still attempted to escape. Then, he killed Narcissa.

That was the day that I died with mother.

The instant the Avada Kedavra hit his mother's chest, Draco's world stopped spinning. He stopped caring about anything, he was numb, as cold as stone.

He hadn't shed a single tear through Narcissa's funeral, through testifying against Lucius in the ministry of magic, through all those nights in the Zabini Mansion with thoughts of his mother flooding his brain, but on the inside, he had cried himself dry.

All through his entire life, Draco clung on to the fact that his mother loved him and cared for him, although that love was suppressed by Lucius and was shown in secret. Now though, he had nothing to hold on to and was spiraling into darkness.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you listening?" Professor McGonagall cut into his train of thought.

"Yes Professor," answered Draco softly. Professor McGonagall studied him. The poor boy had been forced to go through a lot this summer. He was broken, she had seen it in his stormy grey eyes.

Hermione looked at Draco in surprise. She had never heard Draco use that tone of voice before. Usually, you could hear the sneer in his voice. He never let his guard down, never let anyone see the other side of him. All through the trip to Hogwarts in the Head Compartment, she had been ready with a comeback if he bothered her. But he hadn't even looked at her.

She looked at him, and saw baby fine white blonde hair that fell into his eyes, pale skin, and aristocratic features. However, in his eyes she saw that all the walls that he had built around himself had crumbled.

I never knew how much his mother's death had affected him.

He looked like a fallen angel.

When McGonagall had finished briefing them on Head duties and had left, Draco immediately went to his room, without even a backward glance at Hermione.

He had been like this ever since his mother died. He isolated himself from everyone. He didn't want to hear how sorry they were, or what a good person Narcissa was.

He knew that none of them really understood how he felt. None of them had ever had to lose someone as important in their lives as Narcissa was to Draco's.

The Zabinis had let him live in their house when Lucius had been put in Azkaban. Blaise had known Draco his entire life, but now, he was a complete stranger. His spirit had been snatched away by Narcissa's death.

When Draco was halfway through turning the knob to his room, Hermione stopped him.

"Draco, wait," she said.

He froze, his hand still on the doorknob.

"What?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, still not facing her.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really sor-"

"Don't say it," Draco hissed, finally turning around to face her. "Don't say that you're sorry, because you aren't. Don't pity me, Granger." Although he said this in a low hiss, Hermione felt more scared than she would have been if he had screamed those words at her. His eyes were burning holes into Hermione's.

With that, he turned on his heel and entered his room, the click of the door seeming loud when it broke the silence that Draco's harsh words had created.