A/N : Sorry for the wait, folks! Or should I say, the ten or so people who actually read this fic... :D Honestly, I'm just glad that you guys are enjoying it.
In later years, Draco would remember that Quidditch match as one remembers a dream.
He remembered chants of "Weasley is Our King," cheers from the Gryffindor side as Potter caught the Snitch, his own feelings of anger because he hadn't managed to grab it first, and then landing in a fury near enough to hear that bitch Johnson saying that Gryffindor had won.
He remembered saying something snide to Potter, and he managed to get in a few insults about Weasley's mother and upbringing, just to relieve some of his earlier anger at the other boy for being such an idiot. Suddenly Potter and the two older Weasleys were rushing at him.
The fight that followed was one confusing mess of fists, blood, pain, and the adrenaline that rushed through every inch of Draco as he took out his frustrations on anybody he could reach. By the time Madam Hooch broke it up, Draco had a bloody nose and had been knocked off his feet, but he had managed to give one of the Weasley twins (who cared which) a busted lip; and he noticed with satisfaction that Potter's cheek was turning a nasty grey color where he'd hit him.
The next few minutes weren't very clear. Someone had grabbed Draco by the back of his robes and was pulling him away from the crowd, behind the nearest stand and out of sight. Then he was being flung to the ground roughly; the palms of his hands scraped against the dirt as he landed and his head almost hit the ground.
"May I ask what that was all about?" the man asked in a deceptively cool, calm voice, releasing Draco and walking ahead a few steps.
"Father," Draco acknowledged, spitting out the dirt that had gotten in his mouth and glaring up at the man. Lucius spun around and faced him, his face impassive.
"I wonder…should I forget that little – display – and relay to you the message I was sent to bring? Or should I give you a bit of a reprimand first?" Lucius said slowly, examining his wand as he turned it repeatedly over in his hands. Draco's mouth went a little dry, but he didn't reply, and he was careful not so show his father his apprehension.
He wasn't exactly afraid of his father, but he wasn't stupid, either. And just now, his father had the upper hand. Before Draco could even reach into his pocket for his wand, his father would have plenty of time to raise his own wand and curse him. So he wisely decided to play along with his father's game.
"Message, Father?" he asked, pretending to be interested. He pushed himself up to his knees and stood slowly, never once bringing his hand close to the pocket that held his wand.
"Yes, a message from our Lord."
Hmph. Your Lord, not mine.
"He wonders what you think you're doing," Lucius mused, still turning his wand over in his hands and looking at it closely. Draco knew how to keep his face from betraying his surprise, and schooled his features to match his father's impassivity. He didn't answer.
Lucius began to pace slowly in a circle around Draco, never quite looking at him.
"It doesn't become you, Draco," he hissed as he walked behind him, "this sudden interest you've taken in the Mudblood."
Ah, so that's what this is about.
"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he lied. Then, suddenly he felt such pain as he'd never felt before, tearing him from the inside out, and he was sure all his blood vessels were about to explode. As quickly as it came, it was gone, and he found himself on the ground at his father's feet.
"An Unforgivable? On your own son?" he choked, his head reeling a bit from the remembered pain. His father had not, up until this point, ever laid hand on him or used magic on him as punishment, and he was actually more surprised than angry or anything else.
"My son wouldn't lie to his father, nor would he associate himself with that filth," Lucius replied coldly. "Now, are you willingly going tell me what you've been doing, or willl I have to loosen your tongue for you?"
Draco considered his options. He could lie and risk receiving another Crucio for his trouble. That certainly wasn't the best option.
He could tell the truth, but somehow that didn't seem the right option, either. He was sure his father wouldn't understand his need for revenge; that he would call him petty and childish and order him at once to stop.
So he decided, in that moment, to fashion a lie and temper it with a bit of truth.
"I am attempting to separate her from Potter, sir; to weaken him at his most vulnerable point," he said, almost without missing a beat. His father looked down at him, seemingly trying to discern if he was telling the truth. Draco swallowed.
After a moment, Lucius changed his expression and gazed off over Draco's head, looking thoughtful and muttering to himself.
"Hmm…yes, yes, that might do…" he was saying. Then he looked at Draco and smiled, almost genuinely.
"Stand up, my boy, stand up, and we shall talk about this scheme of yours," he said, in what apparently was supposed to be a warm tone, but still came out cold and unfeeling. The look in his eyes was wild and cruel and excited.
"Now," he said, as Draco stood and brushed his robes clean, "what have you done so far?"
"I've gained her trust," Draco replied truthfully, unsure of how he felt about discussing his plan with his father. Lucius nodded quickly and urged Draco to continue. "And she's fighting with them already; they think she's lost her mind," he went on.
"Excellent," Lucius murmured to himself, turning slightly away from Draco so he could no longer see his face. "He will be most pleased…yes…" Then he turned quickly back to Draco.
"You are to do nothing, nothing without hearing from me, do you understand? I will owl you tonight with further instructions…you may finally be some use to me after all," he added nastily. Draco was feeling quite sick by now; he most certainly did not want to be in the service of the Dark Lord, and now his father was surely going to run straight to him.
He considered, for half a moment, obliviating Lucius, but decided against it. It might not be so bad to have them think he was working for them, after all. Besides, they might actually be of some help in getting his revenge.
He watched his father round the corner of the stands; Lucius turned to look at him just before slipping into the crowd.
"Oh, and Draco," he called. "Your mother sends her love."
That night, Draco received the promised owl from his father. It read:
Fire. Tonight. 11:00.
This wasn't very surprising; after all, his father had spoken to him in the fire of the common room before. Once, right before he had begun dating Padma Patil, his father had kept him from several classes one morning because of a lengthy discussion in the fire.
His father had been telling him then that he was charged with keeping a close eye on Potter while he was at school. Draco had been doing so, in a half-hearted sort of way, until he became so wrapped up in his own plan for revenge he'd quite forgotten he was supposed to be watching Potter.
He knew something strange was going on with Scarhead, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what. Perhaps Granger could enlighten him…but then, he didn't really want to be doing his father's bidding anymore, now did he?
But what else could he do? He wondered if it would be so horrible being a Death Eater. Wouldn't it be better than being found in so many pieces that his own mother wouldn't recognize him? After all, he was already practically an honorary Death Eater, wasn't he?
Ten o'clock. Draco sat in the common room, facing the fire and trying to ignore the whispers that were raging around him. People were still talking about his friendship with Granger; and while he had told a select few of his plan for revenge, lies travel faster than truth, and most of his house were now of the opinion he was nothing but a blood traitor.
He almost didn't care. Right now, he had bigger things to worry about.
Soon the common room began to empty, and people were drifting off to their dormitories in groups of two and three. Before long, it was 10:58 by Draco's wristwatch, and there was no one else in the room except for him. The fire had nearly died; the embers glowed brightly, casting his face into an eerie half-light.
Suddenly, his father's head appeared in the fire, and Draco once more thought how absurd his white head looked sitting amongst the ashes and embers.
"The Dark Lord has approved our plan," Lucius said loftily. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. So now it's "our" plan, is it?
"Has he, now?"
"I'll have none of your cheek tonight, Draco," Lucius snapped, causing ashes to fly up around him in his fury. "You are extremely fortunate. If you succeed in your attempt to break the bonds of friendship between Potter and the Mudblood, then you shall be richly rewarded beyond your wildest dreams. But, if you fail…" he trailed off, and Draco could only speculate about the number of pieces he'd be found in.
"Your next move will be to continue to separate her from her friends…draw her away, sweep her off her feet, make her fall in love with you. There is no greater power you can have over her than that. She will be in your grasp, then. Once you have accomplished that end, you will report back to me," Lucius finished. Draco stared at him for a moment.
Then he blinked, and his father was gone; only the dying embers remained, glaring up at him cruelly.
A/N : Sorry, no preview this time! Want to know why? Because I haven't finished the next chapter. :GASP!: I'm sorry, but I've been busy, and this story just isn't holding my interest like it used to. If any of you guys have any suggestions as to what should happen next, I'd be happy to hear them. Until next time! :D