Hi, my name is Drago Malefoy-Potter, even if we all know that it's not my real name 😉 I post the beginning of my story here, because I really want to know if someone could be interested on reading it and if I should continue. So far I have written 2 chapters and a chapter for what could be the sequel.
English is not my first language, I am french, and I am still learning so I would love for you to correct me, but please do it kindly 😊
Currently it is 10.30 pm in France and I have an oral in English tomorrow at 8.00 am, and I have absolutely NOTHING to say, which is catastrophic because I have to do an oral of 5 minutesl. At least. I am so dead. Please, wish me good luck 😣😖
I hope you are all doing well,
Lot of love 😘
Chapter 1 : The discovery
"L'amour est la seule passion qui ne souffre ni passé ni avenir" Honoré de Balzac
The wind was blowing to the windows and the rain was so heavy that it made a loud sound. The atmosphere was eerie, as if even the weather knew that something important and decisive was going to happen.
A white-haired teenager was lying in bed, reading. He faced his windows, occasionally taking a look at the bad weather outside.
He had white hair and gray eyes that showed a strong maturity for his young age, he seemed to be nearly sixteen, and was tall with a slender body, with some muscles due to his position as seeker.
Strangely, he seemed oddly calm, holding his book with one hand, turning the pages with the other, and glancing out when he finished a chapter.
But to anyone who knows him, like his only friend Blaise Zabini, it was obvious that he was stressed and nervous.
Because Draco Malfoy was in a bad situation. A very very bad situation.
A few weeks ago he had received the dark mark, not because he wanted it, no, but because he was trapped. If he hadn't joined the dark lord, he and his parents would have died.
But it was not the worst. Oh no, it was not. In addition to becoming a death eater, a servant of a madman, he had to complete a task. An almost impossible task to fulfill, a suicidal task.
He had to kill Dumbledore. Dumbledore, the person who was considered as the strongest wizard of the world.
He, a teenager, barely still a child, without exceptional skills, had to kill the most powerful wizard of the planet.
So that was the reason why for the past two weeks he locked himself in his room and only went out to eat.
Trying to erase his mind of what he had to do, of what he will do.
Trying to find a way of completing his task.
Trying to find a way to be still living the next year.
Finally, after two weeks of being alone with his thoughts he decided to come out of his bedroom and go to the library.
He went down the stairs and passed a lot of corridors, until he finally reached the door of the library.
The door herself was beautiful. She was made of wood, but not some random wood, she was made of ebony. The rarest and most expensive wood. The door was carved with delicate motifs and the Malfoy family crest, giving a sense of calm and serenity.
Draco opened the door and came into the room. The Malfoy library was well known in the wizard community, because of its immensity, the rare books she contained, and because of its beauty.
And his reputation was deserved, thought Draco.
The library was very huge and all of the walls were filled with books, except for the wall in front of the door which had a French window opening onto the garden.
In the center of the room were disposed tables and chairs, used to read a book calmly while looking out.
Draco sat in a chair and took a look at the garden. The wind blew through the trees and made a hiss. The rain collided furiously with the window and anything that was in its way. The clouds, dark Grey clouds, seemed rather menacing and conveyed a feeling of sadness and angriness.
Draco, whose eyes matched strangely with the clouds, watched, dumbfounded, the exterior.
These past days the weather has been bad, as if it was accorded to the sad and depressing mood which appeared when the Dark Lord made Malfoy Manor his base. But today, it was way worse, there was a little storm in the garden. Something big was happening, something important.
But for Draco it wasn't bad, he had the feeling that what he'd learn would be a very good thing.
Draco, relaxing for the first time in a while, thought about his life.
Since he could remember, Draco has always been alone. His father, who Draco nearly worshiped when he was a child, didn't care about him; in fact sometimes he seemed to despise him, as if draco had thwarted his plans somewhat. He never said that he was proud of him, despite all the things Draco did to try and impress him.
His mother, who was loving and caring to a lot of people, even to Pansy Parkinson, didn't love him. She was distant with him, like if he wasn't her child. Ever since he entered Hogwarts she barely even noticed his presence when he entered the piece. Not that she did it much more before that, but still.
He was basically raised by the House-elves, who had to make him eat, teach him how to read, play with him, put him to bed, and other things. Until he reached the age of eight, he only saw his parents when there was a ball, when they had invites, or when they had to attend some political party.
The loneliness that he endured made him want to impress his parents even more, he tried all that he could but that was never enough. He tried to become friends with Harry Potter, surely his father would be proud ? But Potter refused his hand of amity. So he became his enemy, his father would be proud because, after all, the dark lord was the enemy of potter, so what Draco was doing was good wasn't it? But no if he hadn't made Potter refuse his amity, they wouldn't be there. He even joined the quidditch team, in hope to win against potter and impress his father. But no, Potter had not only to win but to humiliate him as well. And finally, the worst of all, he was given the Dark Mark.
Draco never thought about it before, he was too concentrated trying to be the person his parents wanted him to be to actually reconsider their behavior.
But, now that he thought about it, his whole demeanor was influenced by his parents, and more specifically, his father.
The lack of love and caring during his childhood was the reason why, today, he was desperately trying to figure how to stay alive. If it was not for his parents, Draco wouldn't be in this situation, he wouldn't have to become a murderer soon.
But after all, what did his parents ever do for him? Why after all the disappointments they put him in, does he still continue to try and impress them?
And truthfully, Draco didn't know. He was so tired of all of that.
The Dark Lord, Potter, Granger, Weasley. His parents.
They were, all of them, the reason why he was now exhausted.
Why couldn't he be loved? Did he not deserve to be loved and cared for?
All that he ever wanted was to be loved and to have someone who he would be important to. To be cared for.
Draco sighed. "I wish that I'd have someone who would love me, " muttered draco.
As if on cue, outside, the clouds became more menacing and the rain became more turbulent.