Autumn 1991

Draco Malfoy

Draco could feel his lungs burning with metallic-tasting sharpness. His shoes slipped in and out of mud as the ground seemed to shudder beneath him; alive with a dark and foul scent. The air was thick and soupy, a yellow sheen casting the world into grim muted colours. He could hardly breathe, his heart pounding and bile rising in the back of his throat.

He looked down at his hands, smeared and glistening with a mixture of scarlet and crimson liquid that was almost as thick as tar. It dripped from somewhere beneath the arms of his robes, weighing him down and making each step feel harder than the last. Although he wished to reach for it, to hold it in comfort, his wand had disappeared from his pocket.

His feet sank farther and farther with each step, the ground rising above his ankle and lapping at his legs. Draco's breath became faster, gasping for oxygen that did not seem to exist. The ground gave way more and more until it reached to his knees, his skin burning beneath the surface. It felt as if he was being stung by a thousand bees, all of them latching onto him and punishing him for something he had done. He could not remember what he had done.

Suddenly, a dark shadow wrapped itself around his arm. He felt his throat scream but didn't hear his own voice until the very end when it whispered lightly in his ear.

"Help me…"he begged himself.

His blood turned to ice in his veins and his own voice continued to beg him over and over again for help. He forced himself to turn against the resistance of the ground. A shadow stood over him, his own eyes peering down into his. Skin peeled back horizontally below his nose to reveal a ravaged and rotten set of bone-laid teeth. The shadow reached down for his shoulder and plucked him out of the rot as if it weighed nothing. It brought him close and stole what little air was left.

"Why did you let this happen?"It asked breathlessly.

He couldn't think of an answer, he didn't know what he meant. Before he could ask, the shadow dropped him again, his back hit the ground, and he began to sink into the thick mud. It washed over his chest and his arms until it pooled into the corners of his mouth. He choked on the mud and tried to scoop it away with his hands, but it was already too late. He was dying.

Draco jolted awake, he reached up and grasped at his throat half-expecting to find it full. Instead, he took deep violent gasps of air, welcoming the rush of oxygen that the room provided. His hair clung to his head with a cold drench of sweat and he had to quickly pull the strands away from his eyes so that he could see properly. He was in his bed, the Slytherin dormitories, a green curtain draped around him.

His chest still felt tight, as though something had been sitting on him, and pushing him into the mattress. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tried his best to slow his rapid was just a dream.

He repeated the words over and over again until he finally began to believe them. Sunlight poked through the gaps in the curtain, and already he could hear that either Crabbe or Goyle stumbled about the room. The sound gave him a final reassurance that everything was alright, and that truly he was in no danger. Which, of course, he knew he really wasn't. Father said the only danger to be had at Hogwarts was to have your magic stolen by a mud-blood and there was certainly no way that such a thing would happen in his room.

Draco wiped his face with the edge of his blanket and winced slightly, feeling as if his skin was bruised. He quickly reached for the mirror he kept on the bedside table and brought it into the dimness of his canopy. He looked at himself cautiously. He had deep ovals under his eyes, similar to those that Weasley wore. It made him frown, the last thing he wanted was to look like a ginger blood-traitor. But, other than the tiredness, he seemed the same. He pressed on his skin gently again, and although it stung lightly, there was no visible indication that it might be bruised. He frowned. If it still hurt, he decided, he would have to go to Madame Pomfrey. The thought was nearly enough to make him sick, it would be incredibly embarrassing.

Content that he hadn't fallen apart, he pulled himself out of his blankets and opened his curtains wide. His eyes locked to the bed next to his where Crabbe sat with a large mug of something nestled in his fingers.

"Chocolate?" the boy offered him.

Draco did his best to hide a thin eats cocoa for breakfast?

He tried to stand his feet but was hit with a sudden bout of dizziness that almost knocked him over. He slumped back into his bed and took a deep is wrong with me?He tried again, this time managing to stand fully. He stretched his arms out over his head and felt the exhaustion still present in his muscles. Even his eyes felt heavy. It all surprised him, he had gone to bed no later than usual. His nightmare must have been far worse than he imagined.

After getting ready and changing, he roused Goyle from sleep. The boy yawned in the way that cats do, and then simply slipped his robes over his shoulders, not bothering to shower or clean himself in any possible way. Draco grimaced at him.

Together the three of them left their dorm and made their way into the common room. It was early, but late enough that he had only a little time to wait before breakfast. Draco took the couch at the far end of the room and ensured that Crabbe, not Goyle, sat next to him. It was here, he thought, that he would hold court when he was older. Once he was in his third year, or maybe fourth, he would be powerful enough to really take control of the house. He was, after all, a Malfoy, and his lessers already should have lined up before him. His father had said it was only a matter of time before they came to their senses. His eyes felt particularly heavy, and the heat of the fire drew him gently towards sleep.

"Draco," a voice said teasingly. He looked up to see Nott standing before him, a small smirk on the boy's rabbit-like face.

A small cool rush ran through Draco's ?He had not expected Theodore Nott to give up so easily. Especially not after Weasley had apologised just yesterday.

Goyle stood up to stand beside Theo as Draco told him to do when they were approached. It made his threats much more effective.

"Come to beg, Nott?" Draco asked as he masked his voice to a neutral tone.

"I just wanted to know how you slept," Theo replied coolly.

Draco felt his eyebrow I slept!?Anger swelled in his stomach. How could Nott know that he had a nightmare?

"Spying on me?" He spat. "I thought you would know your place by now, Nott."

Theo shrugged. "I wasn't spying on you, at least, not while you were awake. I hope you're not too tired this morning."

Draco's lip curled in fury. "What have you done?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You'll regret this. My father will make sure of it!"

Draco could hardly believe it when Nott started to laugh at him.

"I will always be one step ahead of you," Theo said non-chantilly. "And you will never sleep well again, not while I am watching. So, perhaps if you're not so dumb, you might try and beg for my forgiveness. And of course, you will steer clear of myself and my roommates."

"Forgiveness?" Draco spat, his voice dare he!His eyes flicked to Goyle, then back to Theo. The words tasted bitter, but he forced them out anyway, his lips curling into a sneer. "Break his arm."

Theo had his wand in his hand faster than Goyle could grab hold of him, the tip forced against the large boy's chin.

Theo shook his head. "And here I thought you were fun to play with, Draco. But breaking my arm? It would make me far too sympathetic. I mean, imagine the amount of people who would be wishing me well. That won't do, it destroys the image I am trying to create. Plainly, that I am invincible, and well, that you are not."

"What are you sitting around for, Crabbe?" Draco snapped impatiently. "He doesn't know any real spells!"

"Don't I?" Theo tilted his head. "It would be a real shame to kill Goyle here just because you guessed wrong. After all, my father taught me the killing curse, didn't yours?"

Ice flashed through Draco's chest. He knew that Theo was lying, there was no way he knew such powerful spells. Still, he swallowed thickly, "What do you want? Truly?"

Theo gave him a small smirk. "Nothing really, just to watch you squirm." The boy broke into another fit of laughter.

Theo lowered his wand and Goyle made no move to grab him.

"You're picking a fight you can't win, Nott," Draco drawled, his fists clenched beside him. He couldn't wait to get his father involved.

"Oh, but I think I'm already winning," Theo shrugged. "And, just so you're aware, perhaps instead of watching my roommates, you should watch yours." He looked lazily at Crabbe and Goyle. "One of them might be holding a dagger behind their back, and then where would that leave you? A whiny little friendless snob? Hardly a match for my good looks."

Draco glared at him, wishing all the worst on Theodore Nott. He decided, fairly, there would be no apologies made. He would stop at nothing to destroy the boy and bury his family for their arrogance. How dare he, nearly as poor as Weasley compared to the Malfoys, talk to him like that. He was worse than a Gryffindor, even Potter or Granger weren't so bold as to openly challenge him like that.

"Oh," Theo added. "I'd get a new pillow if I were you. I heard it improves your sleep."

Draco wanted nothing more than to pull his wand and hex Theo into the floor. But he didn't. He wasn't scared, of course, how could he ever be scared of someone like Theo? But he knew it wasn't the time, he had to be smart first. Smart enough not to die to the killing curse, if Theo could actually cast it.

Theo's smile seemed to widen and he shoved his hands into his pockets before he slowly crept away back into the bustle of the rest of the room. Draco watched his head move through the crowds until it disappeared through the common room door. Immediately, he felt the ice in his chest melt and disappear, replaced with an angry and hungry fire.

"I'm going to kill him," he said a little loudly.

Crabbe looked at him with wide eyes. "But he knows the killing curse!"

"No he doesn't!" Draco snapped. "Obviously, he was lying! And I'm not going to kill him, you idiot. I'm going to make his life a living hell. And just wait until my father hears about this. Let's see how Theo likes being expelled."

Draco's mind swirled with a million ideas. But he knew any one of them would require help and not the kind of help that Crabbe and Goyle could provide. They were loyal, yes, but they did not have the sophistication Draco required. He frowned, his only hope was to seek Pansy's advice. She wasn't at the top of the class like him, but she wasn't stupid either. Of course, he could have asked Millicent but that would unravel an entirely different problem. Primarily, that she was the female version of Crabbe, and he wasn't sure if the similarities extended to her problem-solving skills.

Decidedly, he stood to his feet and made his way towards the girl's dormitories. If Theo wanted to start a war, then Draco would most certainly indulge him. And he would have Pansy at his side while doing so.
A/N - I often answer questions and participate in the conversation through the comments on our own archive. I also occasionally leave longer author notes. If you're interested in seeing those please do so, even if you want to continue to read this fic here. Danke!