A/N: Summing up what Little me Maid when writing the author's note- the romance is slow building. That's just how I tend to do things: as realistic as possible. Little me always was also all like, "I hope that's okay with you? *Puppy eyes*" but really, Little Me had plans for the whole story and was gonna build slowly anyway, ignoring all reviews that went, "WTF ITS ALREADY CHAPTER TWO AND THEYRE NOT MAKING OUT YET THIS DRAMIONE IS SO BORING!" Sorry, you guys. That's just not my thing.

Also, I portray Draco a lot differently than J.K Rowling probably would have. In his memories, he is still somewhat vulnerable. Innocent, even. Think evil guy with a tragically cliche backstory of when he was tainted with evilness. I'm still working on making that true for our version of Draco here -minus the cliche part-, so let's just see how that works out.

Most of this chapter is just looking into Draco's past. It might get a little confusing (there are times when he has memories within memories; more inception for you!), but stick with me here.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own. Anything you don't recognize, I don't own. I've been through this rant already, but I'm pretty much legally bound to the FanFic sign up page that says I don't own anything unless it's copyrighted, and I can't mention some of these famous dudes whose names I've already forgotten. So I'm pretty much wasting my breath! :D

Don't wanna hear your sad songs,
I don't wanna feel your pain,
When you swear it's all my fault,
'Cause you know we're not the same.
~Ignorance by Paramore

For a minute, the two just stared at each other, both obviously shocked to find the other here. Hell, shocked to see each other in general. Neither had encountered one another since the war, when Draco made it clear that he was on the Dark Side, officially marking them as more than just school rivals. Neither of them had assumed that Draco would be invited back to Hogwarts, let alone made the Head Boy. And neither were pleased with the idea of spending time together.

To Hermione, Draco was nothing more than a coward who only took the side that could protect him best in the war. To Draco, Hermione was his worst enemy's best friend; she was the one person whose grades were better than his, and she was the very last person who deserved it. She was a bloody mudblood, what more had to be said?

Draco was the first to recover. "Shut your bloody trap, Granger. You look like an idiot."

Granger's mouth clamped shut instantly, and a small blush colored her cheeks. "What are you doing here, Ferret?" She sputtered, in an attempt to maintain her pride.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Draco asked as he stretched out on the compartment seat- as far away from the filthy witch as he could get. "Honestly, Granger, you're supposed to be the brightest witch of your time. Where's your common sense?" he sneered.

"You're the Head Boy?" Granger said, her muddy colored eyes bulging rather unattractively.

"Took you long enough," Draco muttered as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like some sleep. Try to keep that oversized mouth of yours under control, or I won't hesitate Muffliato you."

"That's against the rules," Granger pointed out angrily. Draco lazily watched her through slits of his eyelids. She was fuming, her jaw working angrily, running her hand through her hair -which was beginning to frizz- and he smirked. It never took much to work the buck-toothed witch up.

"What're you laughing at, Malfoy?" Granger growled, glaring at him.

"You," Draco said simply.

"Don't be an arse," Granger snapped.

"Don't ask next time," Draco said, a bemused expression on his face. "At least I don't have the face of an arse."

"That's a matter of opinion," Granger mumbled.

"Honestly," Draco replied, "I think my opinion is more highly favored than yours. I am, after all, the Malfoy heir." Although it took Draco everything he had not to grimace when he called himself that, her response was worth it.

"Why you... You ferret!" Granger exploded. "You bloody spoiled brat! Why did you even return this year anyway? I imagine it took a lot of effort to lift your mighty arse off your throne and come down to mingle with such lowly mudbloods like me!"

Draco smirked. "It did."

Granger stuttered for a moment, then, at lost for worst, slammed her book shut and soon after the compartment door as well. Draco rolled his eyes behind his eyelids, then readjusted his position into a more comfortable one.

This year definitely wasn't going to be as much of an escape as he thought it would be. Not with Granger around. But it was either Lucius or Granger, and it didn't take an idiot to figure which would be less of a hell to Draco. He allowed a small sigh to escape his lips.

Just one more year, Draco reminded himself quietly. Just one more year, and I'll be eighteen. I'll be old enough to escape this hell hole once and for all. Merlin, he couldn't wait for the day. He could almost reach it, could almost taste the freedom on his blistered tongue... I'll escape with my dad's fortunes and disappear. Start a new life somewhere else. Become a new person.

Those where his plans; something he had longed for since the Dark Lord returned... And even once tried to go through with. And before he could stop himself, the vivid memory flashed before him, replaying itself in his head like a horror film that was stuck on repeat.

Wand... Check.

Spell book... Check.

Sack of coins... Check.

Extra clothes... Check.

This is it, Draco thought. He closed his eyes, taking in a shaky breath. He was, undoubtedly, scared. No, terrified. He paced the room, his pale face even paler than usual, each step shakier than the last. Chill bumps teased his arms, though he wasn't cold. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears, so much so that he was afraid his father might hear it and come to check on the young Malfoy heir.

Finally, Draco heard the sounds of an old enchanted clock ringing through the house.

Midnight.

Draco stopped pacing instantly, gathering his things and muttering a quick muffliato charm to make sure his footsteps wouldn't be heard as his expensive shoes hit the fine wood floor. He opened his bedroom door, stealing a quick glance down the hall before checking his watch. For exactly five minutes, the protection and alarm spells would be disabled. Exactly five minutes to escape.

Draco had thought about taking a simple route and waiting until the school year started. But the Dark Lord's forces were growing stronger in the Malfoy home, and Draco knew that if he ever wanted to escape with his life (or at least without a Dark Mark), he had to leave now. It would have been so much easier for Draco to disapparate, but like Hogwarts, various spells had been casted to prevent that from happening. Not even the outside help that Draco was getting could undo this, though Draco had often pondered why, seeing this was the greatest wizard of all times that was helping him...

Draco slipped into the hallway quietly, his senses on high alert. He jumped at the simplest of noises, like the small pitter-patter of the beginning storm and the increasing thunder that soon followed. Draco continued his journey down the elegant staircase, passing dozens of old family portraits that were sleeping quietly. Draco watched each one carefully as he passed, ensuring not one would awaken without his knowledge.

Draco paused as he passed his mother's room, staring at the closed door. His fingers twitched and he wanted so badly to open it and check on her, he wanted to ask her to join him, and he wanted it so badly that tears began to pick his eyes.

He knew if this was his mother escaping, she would have included Draco in her plans. Without a shadow of a doubt, he knew that she would only leave with Draco at her side. And for that, he felt horrendously, intensely guilty. Draco brushed away the feelings (and his tears). He stood up straighter, squared his shoulders, and -although it was hard- continued to walk. If his outside helper said there was nothing they could do for her, than there was nothing he could do.

Draco knew it was selfish of him. It was very Lucius of him, in fact. But as the saying goes, like father like son. Though the words rang bitter in the young Malfoy's ears, he knew it was true; it's who he would always be. Lucius's cold blood ran through Draco's veins, and there was nothing he could do about that. Above everything else, Draco hated this about himself the most.

The blonde Slytherin checked his watch again. 12:03. He had to hurry now, time was almost up. He sped up, his silver eyes taking in everything warily. Any minute now, a Death Eater could catch him wondering the hallways. Or worse, Voldemort himself could find him.

Draco knew this was just his imagination at work; he had memorized the schedule of the patrols and he knew Voldemort never left his chambers unless emergency Death Eater meetings were called.

Having just turned 16, he was not branded with the Dark Mark yet, therefore he couldn't attend Death Eater meetings, and therefore had never seen the Dark Lord. Well, never mind. He had met the Dark Lord, when he had just turned 14. After the Boy-Who-Couldn't-Seem-To-Die defeated Voldemort in the Triwizard Tournament, the evil being took refuge at the Malfoy's home and called for an emergency Death Eater meeting. As he entered the place acting as if he owned it -which angered Draco, especially when his father seemed so pleased by that-, his snakelike eyes had instantly found Draco's, who was watching the meeting through a crack in the door. Voldemort made the boy step forward and introduce himself. He remembered the grotesque grin that had stretched the skin on Voldemort's face when he hissed, "yes, the Malfoy boy. You will become very useful in the near future."

Draco should have been pleased. That's what his father had thought him, anyway- "You are only a true man when you serve the Dark Lord." But when he met his mother's eyes, he saw what Narcissa saw- a future of pain, destruction, and warped feelings. Unfortunately, Lucius saw the shared look, and grew angry. And found yet another reason to punish his son in their evening "lessons".

Draco shook himself from the memory, urging himself to hurry. He slipped open the front door, stepping out into the now-raging storm. He scanned the property, searching for something... There! Lying in the distance was an old, worn out boot: a portkey. He just had to get to it before anyone spotted it, then he was home free. Literally.

"Hey!" Draco heard a window slide open, and someone called out to him. "Little Malfoy! Whaddya doing out there?"

Shit. He was busted.

Draco took off towards the boot, and the man shouted again, no doubt attracting the attention of the patrolling Death Eaters. Before long, Draco found himself dodging deadly curses as he sprinted across the mile-wide yard. His heart fluttered rapidly in his chest and his vision was blurred by the rain, adrenaline coursed through his Malfoy blood, and he slipped constantly in the slicked grass, but he couldn't give up. He was so close!

One well-aimed spell hit the boy in the small of his back, a trademark location used often by none other than the Lucius Malfoy. Draco crumpled in the mud like the pathetic child he was, and the familiar affects of the Crucio took its toll. His father strode calmly to his son, his face devoid, though Draco could see the whitened knuckles at his sides. Draco cringed away, knowing fully well that he was defenseless, and his father held the means to kill him.

"Get up," he hissed. Draco did as he told, willing himself to meet the man's eyes, but he instantly wish he hadn't. Cold fury and blind rage distorted his features and it took all of Draco's willpower not to shrink back under his harsh stare.

"Lucius!" Narcissa cried as she flung herself out the door, her long silky evening gown billowing out behind her. "Don't hurt him, Lucius!"

The man hissed and he pushed his wife away from him. "He's a blood traitor and a liability to our force. He deserves to die." He seemed to have forgotten that he was speaking about his only son's life, or perhaps he didn't care anymore. Draco shouldn't have felt as offended as he did. Narcissa's resolve broke, and her face was streaked with a mixture of tears and mud. Even after trying to escape without her, she was throwing her life at the feet of her husband to save her son's life.

"Perhaps that isn't necessary," hissed a new voice. Dragging his eyes from his mother, Draco was surprised and frightened to see the Dark Lord looming above him, a cold expression on his maniacal face.

"But, my Lord...," Lucius stuttered.

"Oh come now, Lucius," Voldemort cooed, "This is your son; the Malfoy heir. You mustn't truly want to kill him!"

Lucius, dumbfounded by his Lord and assuming it was a trick, said, "I-I would do anything to serve you, my Lord. Even if it meant abandoning my family."

Voldemort's face spread into a nasty grin. "Don't push it, Malfoy. I dislike suck ups."

"Yes, my Lord," Lucius said quietly.

"Now," Voldemort continued, "There may be a way for the young Malfoy to redeem himself. If he wishes to be redeemed, that is." The Dark Lord regarded Draco with a look that said he really didn't have choice if he wanted to live.

Draco looked to his mother, desperation and pain etched across her beautiful features. She looked so helpless lying there, her expensive gown now tattered and torn. The Death Eaters that had formed to watch the Dark Lord taunted her and kicked at her defenseless figure. Draco would have willingly died right then and there, but watching his mother suffer was too much for the boy to handle. He had to protect Narcissa, even if he didn't exactly know how. He would do anything for her. "Anything." he echoed aloud.

"Give me your arm, boy," Voldemort barked. Narcissa, realizing what was going on, let out a strangled gasp. Her eyes widened with horror, and she reached her frail hand but let it fall and turned her face away from her husband, maintaining what pride she had by crying in secret. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Draco held out his arm uncertainly. Voldemort's hand shot out and grasped Draco's it tightly, like a Venus fly trap would to a fly that had just entered its flower. His grip was strong, his long, bony fingers slightly bruising Draco's slender arm. He licked his lips, a grin stretched out upon his face, and withdrew his wand.

"With this wand, I will mark you as one of us!" Voldemort shouted above the howling winds. The pain that shot up his arms was like that of a thousand crucios, unlike any he had experienced before. His vision spotted.

As he grasped his arm, still throbbing, a vision of some sort flashed before Draco's closed eyelids. He saw his mother, her face graced with a crescent-moon smile that accented the crinkles in her ocean eyes, a smile that Draco hadn't seen in years. His mother was happy and truly, undoubtably beautiful.

The image was quickly ruined, however, by the voice that had entered his head. "Obey me," it whispered, in a familiar snakelike tone, "And she will live. But refuse to do so..."

The next few images passed by quickly, but so vividly that Draco would never forget any detail of it. The first was his mother in the dungeons, her hair in such a mess that could rival Hermione Grangers and her face pale and skinny. The next was her in torture, blood dripping freely from her open wounds and pain so clearly written in her eyes, but nevertheless she held her head high. And finally, one of his mother, dead. She looked small and frail and not nearly as proud as she did when she was alive: she was weak and freakishly skinny. There were dark circles under her lifeless eyes and she a look of pain forever bore into her features, as if she would never escape torture, even in death.

Draco hadn't realized that he had been screaming until the images faded. He looked up at the cruel man before him, blocking out the storm, the laughter of the Death Eaters, and even his mother's concerned looks. All he saw was the monster before him.

"Do you, Draco Malfoy, swear to follow me and obey my every command without a single doubt in mind?"

"Yes," Draco spat the words bitterly, glaring at the Dark Lord with venomous hatred burning in his stony eyes. A little bit of mud dibbled down his forehead and made its way into his eyelashes. He was consciously aware of how pathetic he looked, bending to the Dark Lord's wishes whilst splattered in mud and shivering violently.

"And you understand the consequences if you fail to do so?"

"Yes," Draco repeated, though this time his voice faltered slightly. He glanced at his mother, a lump forming in his throat.

"Good," Voldemort drew out the word, a smile stretched across his face. "And I know just exactly how you can prove your loyalty..."

"Hey, sweetie?" the voice dragged Draco from his memories and back to reality. He opened one eye to find the speaker, obvious annoyance spread across his face.

"Would you like something from the trolley, dear?" the woman continued, seemingly unfazed by Draco's annoyance.

"No," Draco snapped, too worn out to come up with something more bitter to say.

"Alrighty then!" She closed the compartment door and continued down the train, leaving Draco alone once again.

Yes, Draco decided. It was going to be a long year.

"That... That ferret! I hate him!"

A furious Hermione Granger stormed into the compartment, startling her friends.

"Erm... Something wrong, Hermione?" Harry asked rather stupidly.

"Yes, something's wrong!" Hermione seethed as she sat across from the bewildered boy and his girlfriend. "Draco Malfoy, -that spoiled brat- that's what's wrong!"

"What about the git?" Ron asked as he munched on a chocolate frog.

"He's been elected the Head Boy!" Hermione cried, allowing her head to fall into her arms on the table between the four.

Harry looked up sharply, Ron choked on his frog, Ginny jumped.

"No way!" Ginny said.

"That bloody arse..." Ron grumbled.

"That can't be true," Harry said.

"It is!" Hermione said. "I was reading my Emily Dickinson book and he waltzed into the Head Compartment like he owned the damned place!"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, both with eyes widened and mouths slightly parted in shock. Hermione Granger rarely ever cursed.

"Maybe he was just pulling a prank on you," Harry offered weakly. "To see what you would do?"

"That sounds like him," Ron butted in.

"Why would play such a stupid and utterly pointless joke?" Hermione asked.

"That's Malfoy," Ron said somewhat cheerfully, "Stupid and utterly pointless."

Hermione sighed and put her head in her hands. "What am I going to do?" she said, her voice muffled. "I can't live with Malfoy for the entire school year!"

"Calm down, Hermione," Ginny said, slipping out of her seat and into the one beside Hermione. She glared at the two unhelpful males in the compartment. Harry spread his palms wide, bewildered as if to say, I don't know how to handle this situation! Ron didn't seem to notice, as he was polishing off his chocolate frog. Ginny shook her head. Unbelievable.

She patted her friend's back. "Besides, it's better sharing a common room with him than it is with a bunch of annoying first years."

"How is it any better?" Hermione cried. Harry raised his eyebrows at Ginny, his expression reading: And you say my attempts at comforting her sucked?

"Well, knowing Malfoy, he'd spend his time with his pureblood friends." Ginny said, choosing her words carefully. "He's to 'high and mighty' to converse with a muggleborn. You probably won't even remember he's living with you."

"Or he'd want to spend every waking moment making my life hell," Hermione grumbled.

"That sounds more like Malfoy," Ron agreed. Harry and Ginny both looked sharply at him. "What?" Ron said.

"You're not helping, Mate," Harry informed.

"I'm just sayin'...," Ron grumbled.

"Well, why don't you just avoid him and stick with us?" Ginny said. "There's no rule against being in your old common room. We'll give you the password, you can come hang out with us. It'll be just like old times!" Ginny smiled.

"Yeah," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I suppose that would be nice. And I could always use some extra time in the library..."

"That's the spirit!" Ginny said cheerfully.

Hermione smiled gratefully. at her redheaded friend. "Thank you, Ginny."

Ginny smirked triumphantly at Harry. I win.

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