CHAPTER 8

LOST SOULS IN A FLIGHT

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One day,

I'll leave you a phantom

to lead you in the summer

to join the black parade.

— My Chemical Romance,

Welcome To The Black Parade

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A letter.

A letter from Lucius Malfoy.

Couldn't his day be made gloomy in any other way?

He had been tending to his owl, Spinturnix in the owlery when in came flying his father's large black owl, carrying a beastly letter, stating him to be ready by seven in the evening. He was to be at the Manor for some days and he knew what his father wanted all too well.

The Dark Lord was coming. All too soon, for him.

His father and aunt, being the ever-so loyal death eaters had rambled on and on about his abilities."Draco does this, Draco does that" and other nonsense. By Merlin's grace they didn't know of his recent achievements. His aunt's attitude could be understood; she threw herself openly at Voldemort, even though she was married, therefore it was highly unlikely that she would care for a nephew if she didn't care for her husband. It was good that she was rotting in Azkaban.

But his father? Wasn't his father supposed to care about him and look out for him? Maybe other fathers did that but not Lucius Malfoy. Oh-no-never. Lucius Malfoy had everything in his mind except his son and wife. He was just a power hungry man with an ego whose size was equal to or even more than a Quidditch Pitch.

Draco had no choice but to obey the fanatics. They truly were fanatics. All of them failed to see the cruel irony of the situation. Didn't they realise that all of them so called superior purebloods were being led by a mad and evil halfblood, who was obsessed with the life a boy?

It was this observation that had first led him to break all ties with the belief that purebloods were superior. All the tormenting of muggle-borns that he did at school, was just a mere show for his fanatic pureblood 'friends', so that they didn't tell about his radical ideas to his family. He didn't mean a single word. So much had happened. So much had changed. He was no longer his twelve year old self.

Anyway, he didn't have a choice, did he?

The damned letter wanted him to be ready by seven. Then he would be picked up by his poor excuse of a father. Apparently he had already talked to Dumbledore.

Damn stupid filthy pureblood death eaters...

He didn't pack any thing, he was going home after all. He decided that since he was free, he would go to the library. He needed a good textbook to keep his mind from thinking too many bad things about his family because in the end it wouldn't do any good to him. And maybe I would meet her, he thought happily. She was the onlyone helooked forward to meeting in his grim life.

So he walked, confident as always, as his feet led him towards the library. Upon entering the library, his eyes immediately began searching for the bushy haired girl. He was right as usual. She was sitting in the corner, on the floor by a shelf in a corner, far away from Madame Pince's strict gaze, surrounded by piles of books.

He went to sit beside her. She didn't even notice him, until he snapped his pale fingers in front of her face. Her neck turned around and her eyes came into view. She looked at him apprehensively.

"Oh, er Hello. What are you doing here?"

"Can't a boy come to the library?"

"No... I didn't mean to say that. It's just that I've never seen you in here before."

"That's because I check out the books."

"Oh..."

"What are you reading?"

She bookmarked the page and then closed the book to show him the cover. 'The Development Of Magic' was written in golden embossed letters on it.

"Ah, I see. You, are quite enchanted by my tricks and thus you want to research more and more until you find out how I did that. But you wouldn't find anything in there. Tell you what, come with me. You will have a lesson, now."

"But Malfoy, it's nearly evening and way too cold for any outside practice."

"Who said we have to go outside? We just need a good teacher, that is me—"

"As if."

"Don't cut me off! I don't hear you talking like that to Snape. Ah, so where was I? Yes, we need a good teacher, a willing student, that is you and an empty classroom."

He stood up and helped her up to her feet. They put back all the books back in their places and went in search of a classroom, or any room for that matter. After roaming around for twenty minutes or so, they stumbled across an empty room in the east end of the castle.

"So what do we do?"

"We practise meditation."

"And how exactly do we do that?"

"You'll see, you'll see.", he said as he handed her a quill from his robe pocket. She looked at him questionably.

"Transfigure this into a candle." She did as she was asked and put it on the dusty floor. Then the wick burst into a gentle flame with a point of his finger. She gasped, in surprise, just like she did the first time. He smirked.

"You'll learn that but first you need to focus on your inner magical core. That's why you meditate. Sit down." They sat down, cross-legged in front of each other with the candle in between them. "Okay, now close your eyes and concentrate on the flame. Forget everything else. There is nothing but you and the flame. Imagine that you are blowing air through your mouth, trying to extinguish it."

She sat there for what seemed like an eternity, trying all that but nothing happened.

At last she opened her eyes and said, "You're making this up, aren't you?"

"And why do you think that?", he asked sullenly.

"Because nothing is happening. I reckon you must have made your wand invisible and fooled me."

He smirked, in a dangerous sort of way. His eyes glistened dangerously in the candlelight and suddenly she was feeling afraid. "You think I fooled you?", he said as he said as he scooted a little closer to the candle. "Here, take this." He handed his wand to her and closed his eyes. Barely ten seconds later the candle was extinguished. "How do you think I did that?"

"Ah, Umm... Okay I am sorry."

"You, of all people should know that one can't be successful in the first try." He ignited the candle again and she continued. This went on for nearly one and a half hours but then remembered the ghastly letter.

"Uh, Granger I have to go. Practise this while I am gone for the next few days."

"If you don't mind, may I ask where are you going."

"Home.", he simply said.

"Oh, okay. So when do we meet again?"

"Next Saturday."

They stood up from the dusty floor and brushed away the dust from their robes.

"When I come back, tell me how Potter did on the first task.", he said.

"Okay, will do."

"And Hermione?"

She glanced at him, her cheeks blushing a little.

"Take care.", and then he was gone, leaving her speechless. 'You too', she had wanted to reply.

She felt a strange emptiness inside her.

Draco walked sorrowfully towards the entrance, his steps not wanting to follow his mind. Since, Dumbledore knew about this, the gates had been opened already. He immediately wanted to turn back and go back to her but now it was too late, he had spotted his father's whitish hair and he knew that his father had spotted his whitish hair too. It was too late to make a choice.

"Good evening father.", he smiled, ruefully.

"Good evening to you too, son."

'Don't call me your son, you poor excuse of a man!', he had wanted to scream at him. But he didn't do anything of that sort and instead quietly walked beside him. He wanted to know what kind of father threw his only son in an evil madman's clutches. He knew that he could very easily defeat his father in a duel, if it ever came to that but then he wouldn't be able to look his mother in the eye. It was cruel world, it was a dastardly life, it was in the end, not his choice.

They walked some distance more and then he side-apparated. The feeling of being pushed through a painfully narrow tube surrounded him and then the Malfoy Manor came into view. He immediately let go of his father's hand. He wanted to be as far away as possible.

Home. Hell.

His mother was standing nervously on the steps. He went ahead and hugged her. His father looked at them disapprovingly.

But it didn't matter, whether he approved or not. He was no longer a father to him, even though he called the man standing behind him that term. It was just in words, not in heart.

"Draco, the Dark Lord is ready for you. He will be here tomorrow." His mother's hold on him tightened.

It was time to join the black parade of stupid purebloods.

Damn stupid filthy pureblood death eaters...

A/N: What do you think of this chapter? By the way this chapter was kind of inspired by an edit made by gentlydramione on instagram.

- Laters, Norma