Chapter 4 – Friends Don't Let Friends Act Like a Poofter

Draco Malfoy was annoyed. He had been given an empty dorm room at the start of the term, due to safety issues, but walking into his room, he saw Blaise Zabini lying on his bed.

Draco and Blaise had been best mates since birth, having had similar backgrounds and similar fathers. The only difference between them was that the Zabini family was not mixed in with Lord Voldemort's circle, and Blaise had never been interested in joining in, either. The Zabini family was to remain neutral throughout the war, just as they had done the first time Voldemort had risen. It was no secret that the Zabini family shared the same thoughts on blood and lineage that other Slytherins did, but his family did not act on those thoughts. That was the key difference.

"What are you doing in here? You need a password to get in!" Malfoy was confused as to how his friend had gained entry to his private quarters.

"I'm your best mate; don't you think I'd be able to figure out your password?"

They knew each other very well, almost as if they were brothers. Draco had not considered that when creating his password.

"I hadn't thought of that, Zabini. I must be losing my touch."

"You're right about that, Malfoy; I think you have lost something. What happened to you this summer? I know you had to lay low after that stunt you pulled with the vanishing cabinet, but I didn't think it was that bad. You never got the mark; they don't have any solid proof of anything."

Blaise was right; Draco had never received the dark mark. He was supposed to have successfully completed his task in order for the dark lord to reward him with that pleasure. However, he had not succeeded due to his own faltering. He had come to realize that he didn't really want the dark mark, anyway, and didn't want to be controlled by that vile creature. The only person who had ever controlled him was his father, and since his father had been incarcerated in Azkaban at the end of Draco's fifth year, he had decided that the only person in charge of his life was himself, and no one else.

The summer had proved to be a trying time for Draco, and he had lost some of the will to fight. He had no drive to control anything or anyone, not even himself. He was living in constant fear of attack, verbal or otherwise, from his peers. He had never been afraid of what anyone thought of him before, but now was different. His housemates were comprised of many death eater children, and he knew that they would not take lightly to his failure and betrayal of the Dark Lord.

"I'm scared, mate. I know what they must think. I'm a traitor, and I'll run to Saint Potter's side because I couldn't kill Dumbledore. I just don't know what to do! I've never been alone like this before. Everyone always followed me, and now what? I'm no leader, Zabini, I don't have my minions anymore, and all I've got is you." Draco's eyes shone, as he tried desperately to keep the tears from falling.

He knew that, no matter what, his friend would always be there for him. He never got this emotional ever; emotion was always thought of as a sign of weakness. However, after the events of the past few months, Draco knew that the ideas shoved into his head by his father were not as potent as he had thought they were. His father was rotting in Azkaban and Draco knew that he was, for once, safe from his father's watchful and prying eyes. He was scared of his father, but now he knew that he could be his own person, without the taint of his father's ill will.

"I'm here for you, mate, but you've got to keep it together. I won't have you crying on me." Blaise was looking out for his friend, but by no means was he going to let him be a pansy. Friends don't let friends act like a poofter.

"Thanks Zabini. Now get the hell out of my room already!" He laughed as he playfully pushed his friend out the door to his room. "Thanks."

He spent the rest of his afternoon writing in his journal. His journal had been a gift from his mother last year, when she had noticed he was being more quiet than usual at home. It was very different from her usual gift of sweets. She was afraid that he needed someone to talk to, but she knew she was not the type of mother to sit and talk with her child about anything and everything. She had neither the time nor the will to listen to a teenage boy prattle on about school or girls and everything wrong with the world.

Draco had been grateful to his mother for the gift, and had taken to writing down his thoughts and feelings, as well as poems and the occasional sketch. He had been writing in it on the train, when the Weasley girl had been sitting in his compartment.

He hadn't given much thought to the train ride since he had gotten to Hogwarts a couple of days before, but after spending his potions classes with her, he was curious to know why she had been looking for an empty compartment to begin with. Wouldn't she have wanted to sit with scar-head and his groupies?

A few hours had passed, and somewhere in that time, Draco had stopped writing his thoughts and had started sketching a very obviously Weasley girl in his journal.

Oh bugger, when did that happen? He had not noticed when his writing had switched over to drawing, and he certainly had not meant to draw the littlest Weasley, either. She had gotten into his head, and he wasn't quite sure how that had happened. It wasn't as though he liked the witch, by any means. They were just potions partners, for crying out loud, why should he be thinking about her now?

Something was going on in his head, but he was not aware of it. He had no desire to talk to anyone, and had an even less desire to yell at or ridicule anyone. He knew that things were different now; that his friends had not really been his friends and that they had just wanted him for his power. Now that he had no power, they wanted nothing to do with him. He could not very well go after anyone in school without his cronies; that would be quite dangerous for him.