Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do own the horde of angry reviewers for taking so long to update. I'm sorry and I will try my darndest to never again have it that long of a wait.

QuinkyDink: not too long, not too short for the argument. Crap. Well, I hope it holds up to your expectations, thanks for reviewing!
Meirta: Thank you very much for reviewing, and I'm glad that you think Draco is pretty much true to the books, just with his intelligence, I was trying to make it as if he really could be a genius underneath it all
Chicklepea: I love chocolate chip cookies, and yeah, that was a rather long update wait, sorry. Do I still get the cookies?
Gremlin: I'm glad that you can sympathize with both, and yeah, I hope it isn't ruined as well
Dbi626: Sorry about the long wait, but thanks for reviewing. It is refreshing to have someone trying to get Draco to trust them (not visa-versa), isn't it? I never thought of it that way before.
Wildlyobssesed: Sorry about the wait but thanks for reviewing, and yes, it will take awhile for Draco to trust again
Rachel: I'm sorry! Yeah, definitely took a while on the updates, but that shouldn't happen again, promise.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 21

Rule number eighteen: Learn the first time. Never make the same mistake twice.

First years learned a lot when they arrived at Hogwarts, usually things important to getting to class on time or getting into their common rooms. They learned one thing necessary for their survival. They were told this in hushed tones, usually at the first breakfast. They would be sitting down to eat, bubbling with excitement about their first classes, and then Draco Malfoy would walk in. His stance, his gracefulness, and his cold, hard stare would command their attention and the older students would lean in to the younger children and tell them this: That's Draco Malfoy. When Draco Malfoy gets angry, and you will know when he gets angry, you do not talk to him. You do not walk by him. If you want to live, you will run the other direction when you see him.

Yes, Hogwarts was used to the moods of the Prince of Slytherin. When Friday came and Draco got into a fight, students were a little cautious. When Saturday came and he had full blown attacked the Golden Trio, warnings were whispered all over the school and students were sure to keep as far away from him as possible. Even the teachers stepped carefully around him, knowing not to cross him when he was angry. They didn't call on him; he didn't cause mass destruction. It was a beautiful relationship.

It wasn't that Draco would openly defy or rebel against the teachers, but he was not ruler of Slytherin for nothing. With a well-placed comment, Draco could upset an entire class. With a deliberate, though rather harmless prank, Draco could cause war. With an 'accident' in Potions or Transfiguration, he could ensure the hospitalization of at least a third of the class, and maybe the teacher as well through retaliatory action.

He had done it before. In third year. That was the year he had started having his 'moods'. The first episode was caused when he found out that his father was going to have Buckbeak executed. However, it was no fault of the animal as Draco had deliberately provoked the hippogriff to get out of facing the boggart. He had felt guilty and because he had no one to confide in, he bottled the feeling of self-loathing and hopelessness.

To make matters worse, the summer before had been the summer when Narcissa had gotten him hooked on her drugs. He began craving the potions after the Buckbeak incident to the point where sometimes he had to hide in the bathroom because he was trembling so hard he was unable to hold a quill. He became withdrawn and sullen, unable to deal with the stress and wanting the release of the potions, until one day in Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs, he snapped.

Draco smirked as he remembered what he had done. Instead of aiming his spell at the quill he was supposed to be turning into a porcupine, he made the spell go awry, hitting a Hufflepuff boy who often made comments about Draco's father. It looked like an accident, but Draco made sure to smirk meaningfully at the remaining Hufflepuffs behind McGonagall's back. The room had erupted into full out hex wars, and as the Slytherins were much better prepared and much better tactically speaking, the Hufflepuffs had been decimated and McGonagall had a deformed teacup for a head.

The entire class had a week's worth of detention, but it was worth it, and everyone knew that Draco Malfoy had caused it because for a week he had been silent and angry, but afterwards he had come out smirking wickedly.

He had other 'moods' that year, and the years after, though they were no longer spurred by drug cravings, just emotions that he didn't know how to handle. As he grew older the moods became more frequent and increased in length and intensity, but sixth year had been calm, too calm, and so when Draco was seen hexing the Golden Trio, the news had reached most of the student population by the time Draco made it to his dorm to change his wet clothes. Unfortunately for Theodore Nott, he was not one of those lucky people who had been informed.

Draco had just stormed into the Slytherin common room to get to his dorm when Nott spoke up. The other sixth year was sitting on one of the black couches with a fairly large amount of people surrounding him.

"Well, doesn't Malfoy look particularly like a drowned ferret today?"

Draco stopped and there was laughter all about the common room. That laughter was a warning sign for him; they never had the courage to laugh at him before.

"Anyway," continued Nott. He had obviously been in the middle of telling a story before Draco came in. "Potter and his gang not only managed to escape but Lucius Malfoy gets captured by Aurors, which was why he was in Azkaban, which was why he escaped, which is why it's such big news now that he was pardoned. Isn't that right, Malfoy?"

Draco could feel pure rage rising up inside of his chest as Nott laughed about his father to the other Slytherins. He scanned the crowd, noticing that none of the students had fear in their eyes when he approached; they had no reason to fear because he hadn't done anything to keep them in awe of him. He had lost control of his kingdom. He had gone soft and this was the consequence.

"He's a little embarrassed," Nott said in a stage whisper. "I mean, wouldn't you be too? After all he's gone on and on about his father and how he is so great, and then his father goes and gets captured by Potter."

"If you're going to say something, Nott, say it to my face," said Draco coldly.

"What is there to say?" asked Nott. He got up and began walking towards Draco. "You're a coward, Draco. You talk about blood purity and serving the Dark Lord, but you're not doing anything to help our cause. You sit in on the mudblood debates, you have detention with the half-breed and tutoring with Weasley. I'm beginning to wonder if they might be influencing you against our lord."

Draco's eyes went frigid, his voice freezing cold. "I would watch my words if I were you, Nott."

"Oh, what are you going to do about it?" asked Nott. "Glare at me? Let's face it, Malfoy, you've been doing absolutely nothing. Well, I say it's high time someone stepped up who had the courage to serve our lord."

"And that someone is you?" Draco asked, condescension staining his voice. He laughed and turned away, heading towards his dorm, ignoring Nott as he bristled at the dismissal.

"Yes, it is," Nott called after him. "You're not worth the signum on your back!"

Draco froze as the room fell deadly silent. Many wizards had died in duels as a direct result from those words.

"You will not dare to speak to me that way again," said Draco, his voice smooth, collected, and deceptively calm. "Is that understood, Nott?"

Nott was silent; Draco knew why. If Nott said 'yes' and obeyed, then he was relinquishing control back to Draco when Nott wanted to be Prince, but to get the title, he would have to face Draco.

"Well, Nott?" asked Draco, his voice harder and his hand slipping inside of his robes for his wand.

"I said what is true," said Nott. "I will not recant."

"Good," said Draco simply. He whirled around, but Nott was already firing a hex at him. He deflected it, easily, but then Heckert and Carangi got up as well, placing themselves behind Nott. Draco realized what this was then, it was an ambush. Nott was obviously going all out for Draco's position. Well, he had seriously misjudged Draco. He was more than just an arrogant, spoiled teenager; he was a genius and an expert dueler, and he had just gone into a rage.

The other occupants of the room fled to safety behind couches or chairs as the four combatants went at it. Draco threw up a shield charm as all three threw spells at him almost simultaneously. Before they had a chance to throw their next, he dropped the shield charm, and shot a curse at Heckert. The seventh year dropped as the curse had burst his eardrums and thrown his inner ear out of whack, disrupting his balance.

Draco ducked as Nott and Carangi retaliated with a barrage of jinxes. They were fools, wasting their energy in one splurge like that. He took cover behind an armchair as the curses reflected off of the stone walls and shattered the lamps and décor around the room. Draco cast a decoy spell that caused a shadow-like figure to burst from the end of his wand. With their fire drawn to the shadow, Draco stood and stunned Carangi. He advanced on Nott as the sixth year hurled any spell he could think of in Draco's direction.

Draco smiled as he dueled. Nott was a good fighter, but he had spent himself too early on in the fight, and he called out his hexes, making them all too easy to block. Draco was also a Legilimens, which allowed him to see what Nott was planning and counter every move. He was also faster, and had greater endurance, and he was immensely grateful to his father for constantly drilling him on spells and having mock-duels almost everyday when he was younger.

Nott was growing frustrated, and Draco was quite blatantly toying with him, making sure that the audience was quite aware of who was the victor in this. Nott finally collapsed by a table, still throwing a hex now and then, which Draco batted away. Draco walked almost nonchalantly forward, getting close enough to merely snatch away Nott's wand. He reached down and grasped Nott's shirt, pulling him up to his feet and then throwing him in the middle of the room. Nott didn't have the strength to protest and merely lay on the floor, cringing every time Draco looked his way.

"Beg me, Nott," he said cruelly. "Beg me to spare you."

Nott whimpered, but his mouth was shut and he shook his head. Draco walked over, kicked him onto his back, and pressed his foot on Nott's neck with just enough pressure to make it uncomfortable. He sneered at his tormentor under his foot, writhing like a bug. All it would take was one step…

"You have insulted me, Nott," he said. "You question my authority, and my loyalty, and then you said that I was unworthy of my mark. Now beg me to spare you or I swear I will make you an example for every Slytherin, no, for every student who resides in Hogwarts who so foolishly turns against me." His voice was unfeeling and his eyes like ice. He pressed down on Nott's neck just enough to make the act of breathing labored.

"I'm sorry!" Nott gasped, panic in his eyes. "I'm sorry. Don't hurt me."

Draco nodded, and released the boy, but not before casting one more hex, one bordering on Dark Magic, lingua hirundo. Nott blanched, gasping at his throat, muted grunts coming out of his mouth, turning more panicked as he realized what had happened. Draco smiled at him coldly; he had just caused Nott to swallow his tongue.

"Get out, ¨ he ordered.

Nott didn't move, too busy gagging.

"Out!" Draco practically screamed at him. He whirled on the other occupants as well. "All of you out! Take the three lugs to Pomfrey, tell her they fought each other, and get the hell out of my sight!"

They hurried to comply. Yes, they had followed Nott when he seemed so sure he could overthrow Draco, but they were not fools. Draco had proven his power and they would obey.

Draco waited until they were all gone and then he stormed into his dorm, finally pulling off his wet clothes. His reflection in the floor length mirror caught his attention and he walked over slowly, then turned around, craning his neck to see the scarlet tattoo that swept across his upper back. It was more than a tattoo, it was his signum, the Malfoy seal, the sign that he was the heir.

It was an ancient ritual that many pure wizards (mostly dark ones) still followed, marking their heirs shortly after birth to show their rank. It wasn't just blood-ink, it was a connection to the land, a connection to family. The signum had a life of its own as the snake coiled and uncoiled around the glinting sword and the two rowan trees framing the serpent swayed in a non-exisent wind, and although it was not a physical feeling, Draco could sense the motion. It was soothing, comforting.

He sighed and turned forward, staring when he caught sight of the necklace around his throat. It was the one Bill gave to him; the one he hadn't taken off since the moment he received it. In a fit of rage he tore it off and sent it hurtling into the corner. He then grabbed a change of clothes and stormed into the shower.

He came out thirty minutes later, clean, dry, and dressed in his usual black, and went straight to the discarded necklace in the corner and slipped it back over his head. It was a conscious decision to put it back on, but he did not want to know the reason for his action and so he pushed all thoughts of the Professor out of his head and went to the library to lose himself in the books.

Even though the school was used to his moods, even they were unprepared for the level of cruelty that came from the Ice Prince for at the library he sent two students away in tears and managed to get a library shelf knocked over, though he was only indirectly linked to the incident so that Madame Pince couldn't do anything except send him from the library.

So Draco left, striding through the halls as the younger students fled at the sight of him. At dinner he caused a brawl and left before he was reprimanded, subsequently leaving before he ate as well, but not before Bill caught sight of him and began to follow. Draco went straight to the Slytherin Common room where Bill couldn't enter. No doubt Bill was going to apologize. Draco didn't want to hear it. He had been fooled once and there was no way he was making the same mistake twice. He didn't need anyone, especially not a Weasley.

By Monday, he was still in a rage. He would be fine if Bill would just leave him the hell alone! The professor had tried to approach him again before breakfast but he had left the Great Hall immediately. Just looking at the Professor reminded him what a fool he had been, and his insides would all clench up at the memory of the pain he had felt, the pain he was still feeling, but at the same time he would feel lonely and empty inside and he wanted nothing more that to….

'Then to what?' he asked himself harshly. 'Run and give the Professor a hug like a sodding Gryffindor? Like a bloody first year?'

He snarled at the nearest passing student, which happened to be a first year, and then carried on storming to class. He didn't need to be all chummy with Bill; he was fine the way he was. Being friends with someone meant that one of the two was going to end up with a knife in his back, and Draco was never going to take that chance again.

Rule number eighteen: Learn the first time. Never make the same mistake twice.

By that afternoon, Draco had a headache. No, not a headache, a migraine. Migraines can be triggered by several different things, in Draco's case it was usually caused by stress, lack of sleep, and skipping too many meals, so that this migraine was one of the worse ones. He ran out of his last class as soon as possible and headed straight for his room where he drew his bed hangings and buried his head under his pillow and didn't get up until dinner.

When he finally did manage to drag himself to the Great Hall, Bill was waiting outside the doors. The Professor caught sight of him and Draco turned on his heel and headed straight back to his dorm.

"Draco, wait!" Bill called after him.

Draco ran.

The next morning he woke up with his migraine still pounding away. To make matters worse, it was Tuesday so he had Ancient Runes. The classes before Bill's had gone well enough. A few of the teachers (mainly McGonagall) had given him odd looks but he had simply glared and they had looked away.

He grudgingly entered the Ancient Runes classroom in the afternoon, not meeting Bill's gaze, and slumping into his seat next to Hermione who was smart enough to stay as quiet as possible.

"Today we will be continuing the Romanian dialect," said Bill. "If everyone could please turn to page 127, we will get started."

Normally when Draco was angry, he wouldn't even bother getting out his book, but this was Bill's class and there was no way Draco was going to give the Professor an excuse to keep him after class, so he took out his book and he turned to page 127. He even took notes and when Bill asked him a question, causing every head to turn in his direction to see what havoc he was going to cause, he calmly answered the question to the astonishments of the gathered students.

Bill, however, was a stubborn Gryffindor, and he obviously wanted to talk to Draco and there was no way he was going to be deterred. When the bell rang to signal the end of class, he called them up to receive their quizzes and then they were dismissed. Draco had a feeling his name was going to be called last. Sure enough, there was one parchment in Bill's hand when the classroom completely emptied of anyone else, and Draco's name hadn't been called.

Draco could feel his migraine spiking and it was all he could do not to reach up and rub his temples. He stared stonily at his desk, not looking up at the teacher. He could hear Bill walking forward and could see out of his peripheral vision Bill pulling out the chair in front of him and straddling it. It was the familiarity of that action that nearly undid his resolve to stay away, but all it took was a replay of their argument to make him as angry as ever. He had trusted Bill once, and it had been a mistake. He doubted he could survive a similar betrayal.

"Draco," he started but Draco cut him off.

"If it has nothing to do with my quiz, I don't want to hear it," he said harshly.

"Draco, don't do this," said Bill.

"Don't do what?" spat Draco, looking up and glaring at the teacher.

"Don't push me away like this, just listen to me." Bill's eyes were pleading and remorseful, but Draco was passed the point of caring.

"I've done enough listening," he said, scraping his chair back and getting to his feet. "Are you going to give me my quiz or what?"

"Could you just hear me out this once?" asked Bill. "Please, Draco. Let me apologize."

"I don't give a shit about your apology," said Draco. "Give me my quiz or I'm walking out the door right now."

"Draco, I'm sorry," Bill started. Draco didn't let him finish. He grabbed his bag and stormed out of the room, ignoring Bill's calls behind him.

Wednesday he woke up with a headache and a slightly scratchy throat, which made him angry because he hardly ever got sick. He skipped breakfast altogether, not even wanting to run into Bill again. It was a morning of complete avoidance.

This whole 'apology' thing was the worst idea he had ever heard of. It allowed one person to say what ever the hell he felt like saying and then giving a quick 'I'm sorry' and it was supposed to all be forgiven and forgotten. Well Draco was not about to be blindsided by some poor Weasley. No, he was much more for the 'on your own' way of life, that way if there was a mistake, he only had himself to blame.

Classes were nearly unbearable and he skipped his afternoon class altogether in favor of a nap, which was surprising because he was an insomniac, but he was tired.

He slept well too, for two hours straight, and the only thing that disturbed his sleep was an odd dream of drowning in an ocean while the entire school played on the beach. He woke up, gasping for breath and shaking slightly, and then went back to sleep for another hour that was completely dreamless.

Thursday he woke up with the knowledge that he was sick. He had a headache still and his scratchy throat had turned sore. He was also feeling slightly nauseas, but he didn't have a fever and so going to Pomfrey would do no good. She was one of those nurses who believed that if you didn't have a fever there was nothing the matter with you. So Draco got up and got ready for classes.

He skipped breakfast again although this time he was avoiding the smell and sight of food and not just the red-haired Professor. He couldn't honestly say what the teacher talked about in his morning class of Arithmancy and by Transfiguration, he was shivering slightly. His throat felt like it was burning, his head was pounding in time to his heart, and his entire body ached. He was sure to be especially cruel so that he wouldn't have to deal with anyone approaching him.

McGonagall, it seemed, was also in a foul mood and was obviously sick of letting the temper tantrums of a sixteen year old boy rule her classroom, and so she called on him halfway through the class. Draco didn't even realize that she had called on him until she spoke again.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she said in her sharp voice which made his headache flare. "Can you answer me the question?"

Draco winced. "Must you talk so loud?" he asked, only half-conscious to what he was saying. The class tittered; McGonagall frowned.

"Five points from Slytherin," said McGonagall, though it sounded more like shrieking to Draco. "As an instructor here, Mr. Malfoy, I expect your respect. Now can you answer the question?"

"Could you repeat it?" asked Draco wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose as his vision swam in front of him and his head felt oddly heavy. The world faded out for a minute and he pushed himself back to reality to hear the end of McGonagall's rant.

"-won't pay attention, you can just leave, Mr. Malfoy."

"Brilliant," he said, grabbing his bag and pushing himself up from his desk. He headed for the door, making it about five steps before his legs buckled, sending him crashing to the floor. The class laughed, thinking he had tripped, but then the laughter died out when he did nothing to move from his face-down position. He couldn't do anything to rise; he lacked the strength to even turn over.

As it turned out, he didn't have too. McGonagall knelt by his side, gently rolling him onto his back and bending over him.

"Mr. Malfoy, can you hear me?" she asked and, strangely, her voice wasn't as loud as it was before. His eyes slowly slipped shut and he drifted off.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Bill sat at his desk, waiting for his students to come in for their Ancient Runes class. It was Thursday, meaning that Draco would be in his class today as well, but he doubted that the blond Slytherin would stay for their 'tutoring' session.

Bill sighed and put his feet up on his desk. He honestly had been trying to apologize to the kid, but Draco had run every time. He couldn't really blame him.

Draco had trust issues. Bill knew that from watching the kid, and also talking to him. It wasn't really surprising as his mother was constantly cheating on his father, or maybe there was something else to it, either way, Bill had messed up.

Messed up badly too. Draco had looked sick on Tuesday although Bill figured he was one of the few who noticed, because Draco's appearance was as composed as usual. Bill, however, was used to Draco's façade and looked for the tiny details. The face that was a shade whiter, the brief periods when Draco would close his eyes when the class got noisy as if in pain, and the fingers that didn't tap out the pattern.

The door opened and Bill made no move to remove his feet from his desk as the students came in. They were used to his completely un-teacher like behavior by now. The students were all talking rather intensely about something and Bill knew enough of his students' schedules to realize that it was the students in NEWT Transfiguration that were doing most of the talking while the others were listening. They gradually calmed down as they took their seats, but one remained emptied.

"Does anyone know where Draco is?" asked Bill, sitting up and starting to get out the worksheets from a drawer in the desk.

The class immediately burst into an explanation and Bill held up a hand to make them stop.

"One at a time, please," he said. "Hermione, where's your partner?"

"He passed out," said Hermione. "In Transfiguration."

Bill felt his heart give a lurch. "Passed out?" he asked.

"Yes," said Hermione. "He was rather rude to Professor McGonagall and she said that if he wasn't going to pay attention he could just leave. So he got up to leave, but he just collapsed. McGonagall didn't want to move him without knowing what was wrong with him, so we had to wait for Pomfrey to come down. She said that he was sick with the flu and that he collapsed because he was partially delirious because his fever was so high."

"Delirious?" asked Bill.

"Yes," piped up one of the Ravenclaws. "They think that's why he's been so…you know, lately."

"Well, that would explain it," said Bill, shifting the topic. He put away his concern for the blond Slytherin for the moment. He would have liked to run up to the infirmary at that very moment, but there were still reputations to be upheld.

After class, which seemed to drag on, he went straight up to the infirmary. Pomfrey came over with a questioning look on her face.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," she said. "Ginny's been released for three days now."

"I know," said Bill. "I came to check on Draco. I've been tutoring him after class these days and since I hear that he passed out, I decided I'd swing by and see how he was doing."

Pomfrey nodded in understanding. "He'll be fine," she said. "Just a bad case of the flu."

"But the flu passed a week ago," said Bill.

"There's always at least one delayed case in every epidemic," said Pomfrey. "And it's usually a rather severe case because their own immune system has been fighting it off for so long, so that when they finally get the ill, it's a resilient strain of the disease, plus their body is spent fighting it off. He's in the bed at the end of the row if you want to check on him, though he'll probably be sleeping for a few days. I'm giving him Sleeping Potion to make sure he rests."

"Thanks," said Bill.

Pomfrey nodded and moved off and Bill stared down the row of beds, finally walking slowly towards the Slytherin's bed.

He came to a halt at the foot of the bed and looked down at the occupant. Draco was sprawled half-on, half-off the bed and the sheets were twisted around his legs as if he had tried to kick them off and he was drenched in sweat. His cheeks were flushed, though the rest of his face was pale, almost matching the infamous white infirmary pajamas that were so different then the customary black Draco usually wore.

Even in sleep the kid seemed to be thinking. His eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw locked and Bill wouldn't be surprised if he began to grind his teeth. He took a seat in the chair beside the bed, just watching the boy for a while, lost in thought.

He resisted the urge to chuckle at the irony of it all. Here he was, a Weasley, sitting at the bedside of Lucius Malfoy's son, much like he had done for his brother. When Bill had been told that Ron and Ginny had been injured in the fire on the field, he had been filled with fear and panic, and when Hermione had told him that Draco had passed out, his heart had given a similar lurch. He wondered if maybe perhaps he did think of Draco as a brother.

He gazed at Draco; the kid was so much easier to care for when he was sleeping. No rude remarks or hard glares.

Draco shifted, almost completely off the bed at this point, and Bill caught a glimpse of black around the kid's throat. It was the necklace Bill had given him for Christmas. He was surprised to see that Draco still had it on, but he took comfort in that fact. Perhaps Draco would listen to him eventually.

He got up and stepped closer to the limp form, picking the boy up, who was quite slight for his age and stature, and gently moved him back to the middle of the bed. Draco muttered something in French that he couldn't quite make out and then rolled over onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow. Bill smiled at that, and then untangled the blankets and pulled them over Draco, who again, even in his potion-induced slumber, shifted at the soft touch. He must be an impossibly light sleeper.

"I swear, kid," said Bill, looking down at Draco and smiling again. "You are going to listen to my apology if I have to tie you down and feed you extra-strong Compulsion Potion."

Draco didn't respond to his threats, lost in slumber. Bill left the infirmary and headed down to his room.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Hi. Sorry about the long update. I promise, the next one will be up in a few days after this one. So, if that makes you happy, review!