Ahhhhh… breakfast! I smiled down at my hearty plateful of pancakes. So it wasn't blood, but it still tasted good. Ignoring the many stares from my table, I helped myself to a whole bottle of syrup; dumping it all onto the stack of pancakes. Hey the more liquid the better. Plus syrup was sticky, almost mimicking blood. I shook off the thoughts, angrily cursing myself for thinking such. It seemed as though everything was now seen in a new light, and it all somehow chimed in with blood, in one way or another.

I stabbed the first pancake, and greedily stuffed it in my mouth in two bites. I did the same with the second, the third, the forth, then realized I seemed to be the amusement of my table. The Slytherin's snickered, and I shot them all glares. Millicent purred, "Why Draco, aren't you a hungry fellow. As I recall, a male is only that hungry after a good… exercise." She emphasized the exercise in a way that everyone knew what she was talking about. Millicent pulled her heavy bosom over the table, laying her elbows on the table, trying to show even more of her voluminous cleavage. "I wonder what kept you up all night, Pansy perhaps?" Her smile turned malicious, "No wonder Pansy isn't here, you must have tiered her out." Her lips curved in an impression of seduction, but all that I felt was an anger that was slowly taking it out on the fork in my hand.

Crabb, her boyfriend, sat right beside her, and yet she had the nerve to flaunt in front of him like some hooker. She leaned in closer, "You know if you ever want something… bigger to hold on to…" She ran her hands over the front of her robe, "you know where to find me." She licked her lips, and sat back down in her seat. She turned back to Crabb who was still eating, and ran her hand down his chest. "Come on Crabb, let's go have some fun." He hadn't even put his silverware down, before Millicent was dragging him out of the great Hall.

I starred down at the once appealing pancakes and pushed them away in disgust. My appetite was there no longer. I unclenched my fists, and the crooked fork fell onto the table with a soft thud. What a great way to end the good start I had started off to.

Owls flew overhead dropping various packages and letters to students about the hall. I sighed upon seeing my father's eagle coming toward me swiftly. Its black wings flapped elegantly as it peered down at everything with a calculating gleam in its eyes. It dropped the letter, without even acknowledging that it had seen me. The letter landed in front of me on the table, and the eagle continued on in its flight without any pause. It screeched in warning at owls that flew too close to it, and it gave a couple of menacing swipes of its razor sharp talons in the opposing owl's direction.

The eagle was just like father, dark, cold, and proud. Like the eagle, his presence was noticed and he was watched warily. For who knew what he would do next?

I pointedly ignored the eagle as it left in a mass of feathers and wings. The letter stared up at me in it's small but neat cursive black ink. It seemed father had made Sala, our housemaid of three years, write it. No doubt he made her rewrite it to his liking, making sure the cursive held no blotches of ink.

Sala was in her mid thirties, her facial features, and figure being one pleasant to the eye. With her red curly hair, and green emerald eyes, she was of instant liking to my father. He had bought her right on the spot, paying a rather handsome price. But Sala wasn't just a housemaid. Both my Mum and I knew what father had made her become the first night she had arrived. We knew from the muffled screams and pleas of help coming that night from my father's rooms. He hadn't even bothered with silencing spells. He did it out of the cruelness of his heart to hurt Sala, but he hurt my Mum too, deeply. I'd never saw her cry as much as I did that night. She slept in my room since being kicked out of her own. Though she thought I slept, I couldn't, not when beside the window stood an angel on her knees.

The moonlight shimmered in on her, casting her into an even more mythical being. Her hands held her face, as silent sobs rocked her small frame. I think she even cried herself to sleep that night. I don't remember when, but I slowly picked her up, and placed her on my bed pushing the covers up to her chin. Her eyes had opened slowly, and she smiled sadly up at me, "I love you my son…" She glanced about herself and said, "I hope I haven't taken your bed."

I just smiled down at her, and kissed her forehead, "I love you too Mum." And I did, truly, if that is even possible for me. Only with my Mum did love exist in my world. The rest of it was full of hate, scheming, and power. And at the time, I thought that that was normal. I was a gullible 15 year old, always trying to please the one man who I looked up to. But it was an impossible feat in itself. Lucius Malfoy was never satisfied.

I remember the morning after, and upon seeing Sala, I noticed her eyes no longer held any emotion. Her life had been taken the night before, and what remained; a shell of her former self.

Life after that changed within the Manor. Father didn't even hide his disgust and anger from my Mum. But my Mum grew strong from that night, and did not give in, which I think made him retort to physical means. When I defended her, his rage became unleashed, and he took it out on everyone.

I sighed pondering how such a simple scrawl of penmanship could send me back down into my hidden past. I reluctantly opened the letter, and read through the letter's contents.

My Son,

Ever since you have left, I feel a disturbance

in you, and this will only be temporary! I believe

this to be a Change into maturity, and you shall

grow stronger if you follow the way of our Dark

Lord. I am watching you. Make the wrong move

and the consequences… Well, you know what

they are. Or if that doesn't work; think of your

poor Mum and how disappointed she'd be in you.

I crushed the letter between my hands and crammed in into one of my robe pockets. That bastard! My mum wouldn't be disappointed, she'd feel pain inflicted from his own hands.

I slowly peered down at the rest of my table. Who was it? Who was working as my father's eyes? Goyal was eating like a madman, and I blew both him and Crabb off the list. They wouldn't even be able to put two sentences together to tell my father of my doings. Ahhh… but there was Millicent, and she had so obviously shown that she wanted to get closer to me.

Blaise was off the list too… no doubt he was packing his bags right now, or better yet, being sent of to Azkaban. I preferred the latter, but I knew that that was too much of a punishment. Azkaban was a place for murderers and psycho killers. Zabini hadn't killed, but he had come close, and that was too close for comfort.

I grumbled to myself as I made an exit for the door. By the doors stood Hermione, she glanced up at me, a question in her eyes. I knew she wanted to talk about Pansy. I was about to offer her a smile, but knowing that I was being watched made me stop. I glanced behind me; two dark eyes met mine. Snape's. Why hadn't I thought of him first? His eyes bore into mine as though questioning me on what I was doing.

I decided to just rush past Granger and act like I didn't notice her. But she stopped all that when she lightly touched my arm, "Malfoy may I have a word, I …" I cut her off. Jumping back from her I hissed, "Get a way from me you… mudblood." I sneered down at her, and glanced at my cloak. "Now my new cloak must be burned because it is now contaminated by the scum of you." I said loudly, to make sure all the hall heard, most of all Snape.

Hermione jumped back too, but her's was from hurt. Her face was one of surprise, but her eyes showed a hurt so deep, that when a tear leaked from her eye, I wanted more than anything to take those words back. But I couldn't. Hermione ran out the doors, her hands in her face to stop her tears.

I turned back to smirk happily at Potter and Weasel who were struggling with their rage. Then I met Snape's eye, and he gave a pleased nod before returning to eating his breakfast.

I exited through the door confidently, and when the door shut behind me, I was booking it. Down the halls I ran quickly trying to beat Hermione to the Heads Dormitories. No such luck. As I rounded the last corridor, I saw our portrait close shut. Damn it! "Open please!" I yelled toward the portrait as I ran closer. The vampire held in his surprise and open immediately, and I ran through the portrait.

Hermione was by her own tigress portrait saying her password. "Hermione no! Let me explain." She glared back at me, as it opened, and she went through. I ran sliding in to catch the portrait door before it shut. My hand just got it. The white tigress paced angrily in her portrait, yowling at me. I didn't care, and I entered quickly.

Hermione turned around in response to all the commotion and she visibly jumped upon seeing me in her bedroom. "Malfoy get out!" She yelled, raising her wand defensively. I rose mine as well, "No… not until you hear me out!"

"Malfoy, don't make me hurt you." She said quietly. I lowered my wand, and stood tall. "Go ahead, I deserve it. I hurt you, so you can repay that back in full." I locked eyes with hers, and her mouth was open in a small surprised o. She lowered her wand angrily. "Damn it Malfoy. Stop messing with me!" she slowly sat down on her bed, her whole body softened, and gone was the image of strength. Now she was confused, hurt, and betrayed.

I walked over to her slowly, and sat beside her. I didn't look at her, but gazed down at my hands. "I'm sorry Hermione." I felt as her gaze ran across my face, but I still didn't look up. "I know I hurt you, and doing it made me hurt too. I am being watched… and if anyone saw me acting differently, they would go to my father. It's bad enough that I don't know who it is. But I don't want my mum to deal with the brute end of my actions. She hurts more than any woman should ever withstand." I ended in a soft whisper, and I wanted more than anything to cry for once in my life. To cry for the women who had always been there for me, in one small way or another.

Hermione didn't move, and I risked a glance in her direction. She was staring at me with sympathy in her eyes, and I mumbled, "I don't need your pity, Hermione." She grabbed my face in her hand, and turned it to her. "This is not pity Draco, this is when someone actually cares." She said softly. She dropped her hand, but her eyes did not loose their intensity. When she smiled softly I had to remind myself to breathe.

I ran my hand through my hair and sighed heavily. Hermione took my hand in hers and squeezed in reassurance. Just sitting on her bed my hand in hers, I felt at Peace. A peace so comforting and warm, I felt I could sit here an eternity and never be bothered. I felt like I could take on the whole world, and it was all because… someone actually cared about me.