Misconception

Chapter 2: The Dark Mark

Growling, Moody poked his wand into Draco's chest. However, the Slytherin remained completely emotionless and continued to stare blankly at the ex-Auror, who was shaking with indignation. Moody stomped his wooden leg on the ground in frustration, knowing that Dumbledore was not going to listen to a word he said about Malfoy.

"I don't trust this one!" Moody barked again. "His looks and acts are too much like his father. You never know, Dumbledore! He could be threatening or blackmailing other students for Voldemort!"

Draco did not flinch. The position he held required him to be void of all emotions and expressions. No one knew what he was thinking, and even if they tried through Occulemency, they could not penetrate the great wall in Draco's mind. He mastered Occulemency easily, almost as good as the Dark Lord himself.

"That's enough, Moody." Dumbledore said in a calm but commanding tone. "Young Malfoy is only here to receive his Head Boy duties. But seeing that your matters are more urgent, you may tell me what you are here for, Moody."

Still glaring at Draco, Moody put his wand in his shabby robe pocket. With an angry sigh, he sat down on one of the wooden chairs and began reaching inside his other robe pocket. His magical eye quickly swerved and stared straight at Draco. A pause. Moody frowned suspiciously at Draco.

Dumbledore, noticing this, nodded at Moody and said, "You may leave now, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco nodded and made his way to the exit of the office. When he got to the door, he hesitated a moment. He looked back and saw that both of them were waiting for him to exit. Not wasting a second, he thought of something to say.

"When will I know what my Head Boy duties are, sir?" he asked Dumbledore.

("You let him become Head Boy? Are you out of your mind, old man?" muttered Moody, angrily).

For a split second, Dumbledore looked a bit nonplussed having just informed Draco his Head Boy duties will be given the next day. This went away as soon as it came. The old headmaster quickly caught on—with a twinkle in his eyes. He smiled.

"I will send for you tomorrow, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore.

Draco nodded and left the office. When the door was shut, Draco could hear the muffled exclaims of Moody, who was thoroughly convinced that Dumbledore had gone out of his mind. Draco smirked and could not help but to feel a bit amused at the situation. He went down the spiral staircase and came upon the dark, empty corridor. Still feeling tired, he decided it was best for him to go to the Slytherin dormitories and get some rest.

The common room was cold. Draco always thought it was a bit thick of them to put the Slytherin common room in the dungeons. It was always cold, even in the summer. He went into his separate room, muttering darkly about setting the common room on fire one day. He collapsed on the bed, worn out and exhausted from the day. In a few minutes, he was fast asleep.

His eyes opened too soon; he woke up too early. For all he knew, it was probably still dark outside. He closed his eyes and pulled the thick blankets over his head. Go back to sleep, go back to sleep…It was no use. No matter how hard he tried to fall asleep again, his eyes always managed to keep themselves wide open. It didn't matter how tired he was; when his eyes were open, they stayed open. As if eyeballs have minds of their own...Draco groaned and rolled over on the bed.

He pulled the blanket away from his head and wearily looked at his watch. It was only four in the morning. His first class didn't start until eight. He groaned again and got up from the warm and comfortable bed. He dressed in his Slytherin robes and pinned his Head Boy badge on. He looked through his bag, making sure he had everything for the day. Putting the strap of the bag over his shoulder, he left his room, finding the common room very cold and empty. As usual.

As expected, the Great Hall was completely empty. The house-elves were probably still asleep in their little beds. Draco ran his hand through his blonde hair. What could he do while the rest of Hogwarts slept soundly in their beds?

Before he even had time to contemplate it, a sharp pain pierced his right arm. It burned. He felt as if someone put his arm into fire and stabbed it continuously. It burned. He bit his lip, trying not to gasp out in pain. He had to endure this pain. After calming his nerves, he knew exactly what was going on. Voldemort was furious because the attack did not go right. It was the attack they planned to strike earlier this morning. The Dark Mark burned his skin raw because he of his guilty conscience. He was the traitor, and he was responsible for this. However, Voldemort did not know that. All the Dark Lord knew was that he had been outwitted by the Order yet again.

Draco could clasped his hand around the burning mark and attempted to stifle the pain. He leaned against the cold, stone wall and slid to the ground. He closed his eyes, praying for the pain to go away. After a while, the pain slowly faded away. Shakily, Draco exhaled and inhaled; he practically held his breath the whole time.

When the burn stopped, he opened his eyes and pulled his robe sleeve up. Burned on his arm was a hideous mark of a skull, with a snake going through it. It was just fading from a reddish color--his skin was raw. He let out a long breath.

Slowly, he stood up, and his head immediately felt dizzy. He shook his head and, in staggered steps, walked outside to the cool, morning breeze. By the lake, he set down his bag and sat on the soft gross. It was still wet from the morning dew, but that was the least of his worries. The sun was just peeking its golden head out of the lake's horizon. Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Trembling, he pulled out one cigarette.

After a while, he felt completely calm. He had been hit by the burn of the Dark Mark many of times, and it was usually gone because he had responded by Apparating. However, this time, he could not Apparate because he was on Hogwarts' grounds.

I should go to Dumbledore about this…

After he finished his cigarette, he swiftly threw into the lake.He got up from the grass and walked back towards the castle to see Dumbledore. By the time he got back, there were a few people in the Great Hall. Draco looked in and saw Dumbledore sitting in the front table. He couldn't tell him now, not in front of all the people who had arrived. Taking Dumbledore's words, he agreed that it would definitely look suspicious.

The sausages and eggs certainly made him feel better. However, the good feeling did not last as long as he had hoped. Pansy Parkinson sauntered toward the Slytherin table and sat down next to him. Draco groaned inwardly.

"And where were you yesterday?" inquired Pansy, raising an eyebrow.

"Why must you know?" snapped Draco, getting up from his seat.

Before Pansy could say another word, Draco had already walked away from the table. When he got of the Great Hall, it started again. The Dark Mark started to burn painfully, and Draco tried to fight it. The pain was so great that he didn't even realized he had stopped in the middle of the corridor, grasping his arm.

He staggered toward the nearest wall and sat on the ground, leaning against the wall. The pain began to go away, and he heard his own breath become a bit shaky. He even heard the fast beats of his heart. He stared down at his arm, wondering why Voldemort had called the Death Eaters twice…

"Why are you sitting on the ground?"

He looked up and saw the youngest Weasley staring down at him, with a puzzled expression. Her fiery red hair was tied up in a ponytail, with a few loose strands that fell next to her face. She was carrying a tattered school book and an old, secondhand bag hung on one of her shoulders.

"None of your business, Weasley." snapped Draco irritably. He quickly got up from the cold floor. Immediately, he felt light headed and staggered.

The youngest Weasley caught him by the arm and said, "Light headed? That's what you get for standing up too quickly, you prat."

Draco glared at her and wrenched his arm away from her grasp.

"Only trying to keep you from falling," she said, pulling her strap on her shoulder to keep it from sliding off.

Before he could open his mouth to snap back, he was shoved against the wall by the other Weasley, Ron.

"Leave my sister alone," he snarled.

Before Draco could even respond to this situation, Ron let go of him and walked away, beckoning his sister to follow. Looking a bit alarmed, Ginny reluctantly followed him into the Great Hall. Within a few seconds, Potter and Granger walked by Draco, without even glancing at him. Of course, they had worries of their own. Draco was sure Potter was not allowed to exist without something tragic happening to him.

"Are you sure you're all right, Harry?" he heard Granger say in an annoyingly worried tone.

"I'm fine," Potter said irritably. "It's not like this is the first time my scar has hurt…You make it seem like it's the end of the world, Hermione."

Draco saw Granger looking a bit hurt at this comment.

Oh, but of course, Potter didn't mean it! Draco thought melodramatically and smirked. Such amusing and melodramatic entertainments were rare. He fought the urge to taunt Potter, as he watched the two love birds quarrel over a petty scar. True, Draco was actually helping Potter in the war, but old rivalries never die. Besides, it was fun seeing Potter go crazy over nothing—like always.

"I know, but whenever your scar hurts it could mean many things…Like that one time…" Granger trailed off.

Cue the violins! Draco thought with another smirk, as he leaned on the stone walls and watched.

He watched Potter slip his hand into Granger's, pulling her to the side of the Great Hall doors. He turned to assure her that everything would be all right and slowly pulled her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered something that made Potter chuckle. Rolling his eyes, Draco walked away, thinking that it had to be the most disgusting thing he had to witness in his life. Happy endings just never worked out for Draco.