Disclaimer: Draco and Ginny and all other Wizard-ey characters belong to J.K. Rowling. I’m not gaining any money on this, nor do I already have any money that would be worth taking in a lawsuit. So don’t raise one. No copyright infringement is intended. I will be giving the credits for each Moulin Rouge song in each chapter. This chapter, it’s “Nature Boy” written by Eden Ahbez and sung by a bunch of people.
Ecole de Sorcier
~~~~~
“There was a boy,
A very strange, enchanted boy”
He’d always had power. That was never the question. The question was what he did with it.
It was usually nothing. He saved it; always kept a little in reserve, just in case. On the rare occasion that he did do something that wasn’t required for school, it was to hurt his enemies. He always had a large number of enemies, Potter being number one. Weasley was close behind. Which Weasley, one might ask? See, that was the second question. And perhaps the most important
Ever since he’d met Weasel the First, he’d despised him. Mainly because of the things his father told him. The Weasleys were scum, below them, part of the underworld that was filled with Muggle worshipers. He’d never even given it a second thought.
But then he’d met Weasel the Second. At Flourish and Blotts when he’d been shopping for his new school books. The problem was, she didn’t seem like scum to him. She’d showed up completely filthy, poor enough that she had to travel by Floo. But she’d still managed to be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen with her glowing, fire-y hair and her gorgeous chocolate eyes. She’d captivated him; it was just something about her. Something that managed to make her look good despite her dirtiness. Something making her more...human, more real and down to earth.
And he hated her for it. A Malfoy should never be this besotted with a Weasley. It just wasn’t done. His father, among many others, would be royally pissed. So he had to hide it.
He mostly took his annoyance with the situation out on her brother, as they actually shared a few classes. It was much more convenient. And it put up the front that he hated all Weasleys. For a while, he was able to avoid showing his anger to the girl that still managed to captivate him after six years.
Six years in which she made him fall even more in love with her. He despised her for that. In his second year, her first, he had been completely stricken upon hearing that she’d been taken into the Chamber. This irritated him to no end; how could he be so worried about someone who was supposed to be such an enemy? It had been his own father that sent her to her death, for Merlin’s sake! He was above wondering whether the Weasel would be okay. And yet he managed to remain worried.
Then there was that time in his fifth year, her fourth, when she had stupidly run off to the Department of Mysteries to help Harry. Again, it had been his father that lured her there. Why couldn’t he agree with his father’s wishes? What was it about her that made him scared for her safety? He was a bloody Malfoy, and they bloody well did not like Muggle-lovers. It was a well known fact; one that he believed in profusely. But there she was.
And sodding Harry Potter did not help matters. The object of his affection happened to fancy the Boy-Who-Nearly-Killed-Off-His-Father’s-Master. A Master that he happened to care about as well. It was the most fucked up triangle he had ever seen. He was very much of the evil, with dungeons, blood, torture, brooding, and scowls. Whereas she was very much of the good, with fluffy bunnies, happiness, and love. He didn’t do love. But there she was.
“They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea”
In his life, he’d seen many things. His father had made sure of that. “It’s important to know the world you will play a part in ruling someday,” he always said.
Meaning, they would often go to Muggle villages. For fun, they would sit on park benches and laugh at all of the Muggle children playing with such primitive, crappy toys. Monkey bars...honestly. Who would ever want to do something that associated them with a lesser primate? It just made no sense.
But he couldn’t help but think of her on the trips. She would have thought that these monkey bars were fun. Perhaps even gone on them herself. Which gave him mixed feelings; he wanted to go play on the monkey bars so he could be closer to her, and strangle himself for being such a pathetic sod all at the same time. It didn’t bode well for his sanity.
And he was always spoiled because of it. Apparently, his father had seen some of the wistful looks he’d given the Muggle playthings and made sure to stomp them out of him. Usually by buying many expensive, complicated Wizard’s toys. Those would always provide at least a day of distraction from the internal fight that was constantly brewing in his veins. Plus, they gave him bragging rights, made him able to one-up the whole Weasley family many times over. Reminded him that she was below him.
“A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he”
His father was constantly pounding into him the rudiments of being a Death Eater. It was what he assumed Draco would be when he grew up, and the boy had never protested. For from what he knew, these Muggles deserved to be terminated. But then, why did her family hold them so dear?
He always kept that in the back of his mind during the lessons, causing him to be scolded many a time for lack of concentration. Eventually, the nagging thought forced him to subconsciously withdraw slightly from most of his house mates. They were always making comments on the lack of worth of the Muggles. And he couldn’t help but think to himself, what would her face look like if she heard what they said? It drove him mad, this obsession he seemed to have with her. He wanted to be rid of it.
But that was most definitely easier said than done. The harder he tried to put her out of his mind, the more she crept into it. It made him absolutely furious. She was unworthy of such a fascination. But a cutting voice in the back of his head told him that wasn’t quite true. That she was deserving of all of it. In his mind, as much as he hated to admit it, she was a Goddess. Often, he could be found gripping his head with a scowl on his face while he mentally debated this issue. No one dared ask.
He began to fall apart, torn between his current family and the one he wanted to be part of his future family. Yes, he’d finally given in and admitted that he wanted the littlest Weasel to be his wife someday. Oh, but his family wouldn’t like that. Neither would the other that he wanted to pledge his life to. They’d both take it about as well as getting a cute little puppy as a gift. And the puppy would be dead within hours.
He went on like this for almost a year, until his father was captured by the bloody fucking Ministry and taken to bloody fucking Azkaban. It had broken his entire home life. His mother was constantly close to tears, mostly unable to do anything but lay in bed all day. And since bloody Potter had lost them their house-elf, there was no one to take care of him. So he had to do the unthinkable: take care of himself. He hated having to cook all of his meals and clean up afterwards, but once the summer was done he grew to mind it less. It was rather liberating, this opportunity to be free of others’ command. To be able to do what he wanted, when he wanted. It allowed him to think more clearly. To, for once, think for himself.
Over the course of the following year, he lost nearly all of his friends. He just didn’t care about them anymore. Most had been appointed to befriend him by his father. But his father was gone, all of his memories sucked out by the dementors. So he stopped listening to the things he’d been told. Mostly. He still didn’t care for the Muggles, and was still determined to take the Mark, but didn’t want any of those idiotic goons for acquaintances. He preferred to be alone than to spend time with most of the idiots who made up the Slytherin house.
So he did. Instead of terrorizing small first years, he could usually be found in the library during his free time. It intrigued him, all of the things he’d been missing. He’d only ever heard one side of things, his father’s side. He liked to read about the other way of looking at the Muggles. It seemed...better, more humane. Not that he liked them, it just seemed a little wacko to blow them up for a hobby. Especially at someone else’s orders. It didn’t hurt that she was often in the library, so when he got tired of reading he could watch her. For some reason, he didn’t feel quite as guilty about it anymore.
“And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me...”
Rather, he was saddened by the fact that he didn’t know this girl better. She’d stolen his thoughts for many years, but he’d never properly spoken to her. That struck him as odd; he even had to think back to why he’d never approached her. Oh, yeah, she was his complete opposite. She was good, and he was bad. But he was starting not to believe that anymore. He was certainly not ready for fluffy bunnies, but he decidedly did not want to go and murder a bunch of people for some controlling, neurotic wizard anymore.
It was almost a relief to have finally determined that. He was going to do whatever he wanted. If he wanted his skin to be tattooed, he would damn well do it himself and pick a picture that he wanted. So there.
And if he wanted to be in love, he could.
But he still couldn’t get up the nerve to talk to her. He didn’t quite know why; he was definitely good-looking. And he was supposed to be able to do anything he wanted. He was a Malfoy.
It was rather ridiculous, this ongoing obsession that he never acted upon. It was no longer a complication, but a blessing. Sort of. Once he gave up on hating it, the feeling that he got whenever he saw her was rather nice. Why he ever contemplated giving it up just because of who her family was, he didn’t really know.
And he grew to adopt a new goal. It was no longer to become a Death Eater and further his father’s cause. He would leave the pathetic groveling to people like Peter. His new goal was her.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn
Is just to love, and be loved in return.”
end part 1
~~~~~
A.N: “Ecole de Sorcier” means “Wizard School” in French.
Ecole de Sorcier
~~~~~
“There was a boy,
A very strange, enchanted boy”
He’d always had power. That was never the question. The question was what he did with it.
It was usually nothing. He saved it; always kept a little in reserve, just in case. On the rare occasion that he did do something that wasn’t required for school, it was to hurt his enemies. He always had a large number of enemies, Potter being number one. Weasley was close behind. Which Weasley, one might ask? See, that was the second question. And perhaps the most important
Ever since he’d met Weasel the First, he’d despised him. Mainly because of the things his father told him. The Weasleys were scum, below them, part of the underworld that was filled with Muggle worshipers. He’d never even given it a second thought.
But then he’d met Weasel the Second. At Flourish and Blotts when he’d been shopping for his new school books. The problem was, she didn’t seem like scum to him. She’d showed up completely filthy, poor enough that she had to travel by Floo. But she’d still managed to be the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen with her glowing, fire-y hair and her gorgeous chocolate eyes. She’d captivated him; it was just something about her. Something that managed to make her look good despite her dirtiness. Something making her more...human, more real and down to earth.
And he hated her for it. A Malfoy should never be this besotted with a Weasley. It just wasn’t done. His father, among many others, would be royally pissed. So he had to hide it.
He mostly took his annoyance with the situation out on her brother, as they actually shared a few classes. It was much more convenient. And it put up the front that he hated all Weasleys. For a while, he was able to avoid showing his anger to the girl that still managed to captivate him after six years.
Six years in which she made him fall even more in love with her. He despised her for that. In his second year, her first, he had been completely stricken upon hearing that she’d been taken into the Chamber. This irritated him to no end; how could he be so worried about someone who was supposed to be such an enemy? It had been his own father that sent her to her death, for Merlin’s sake! He was above wondering whether the Weasel would be okay. And yet he managed to remain worried.
Then there was that time in his fifth year, her fourth, when she had stupidly run off to the Department of Mysteries to help Harry. Again, it had been his father that lured her there. Why couldn’t he agree with his father’s wishes? What was it about her that made him scared for her safety? He was a bloody Malfoy, and they bloody well did not like Muggle-lovers. It was a well known fact; one that he believed in profusely. But there she was.
And sodding Harry Potter did not help matters. The object of his affection happened to fancy the Boy-Who-Nearly-Killed-Off-His-Father’s-Master. A Master that he happened to care about as well. It was the most fucked up triangle he had ever seen. He was very much of the evil, with dungeons, blood, torture, brooding, and scowls. Whereas she was very much of the good, with fluffy bunnies, happiness, and love. He didn’t do love. But there she was.
“They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea”
In his life, he’d seen many things. His father had made sure of that. “It’s important to know the world you will play a part in ruling someday,” he always said.
Meaning, they would often go to Muggle villages. For fun, they would sit on park benches and laugh at all of the Muggle children playing with such primitive, crappy toys. Monkey bars...honestly. Who would ever want to do something that associated them with a lesser primate? It just made no sense.
But he couldn’t help but think of her on the trips. She would have thought that these monkey bars were fun. Perhaps even gone on them herself. Which gave him mixed feelings; he wanted to go play on the monkey bars so he could be closer to her, and strangle himself for being such a pathetic sod all at the same time. It didn’t bode well for his sanity.
And he was always spoiled because of it. Apparently, his father had seen some of the wistful looks he’d given the Muggle playthings and made sure to stomp them out of him. Usually by buying many expensive, complicated Wizard’s toys. Those would always provide at least a day of distraction from the internal fight that was constantly brewing in his veins. Plus, they gave him bragging rights, made him able to one-up the whole Weasley family many times over. Reminded him that she was below him.
“A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he”
His father was constantly pounding into him the rudiments of being a Death Eater. It was what he assumed Draco would be when he grew up, and the boy had never protested. For from what he knew, these Muggles deserved to be terminated. But then, why did her family hold them so dear?
He always kept that in the back of his mind during the lessons, causing him to be scolded many a time for lack of concentration. Eventually, the nagging thought forced him to subconsciously withdraw slightly from most of his house mates. They were always making comments on the lack of worth of the Muggles. And he couldn’t help but think to himself, what would her face look like if she heard what they said? It drove him mad, this obsession he seemed to have with her. He wanted to be rid of it.
But that was most definitely easier said than done. The harder he tried to put her out of his mind, the more she crept into it. It made him absolutely furious. She was unworthy of such a fascination. But a cutting voice in the back of his head told him that wasn’t quite true. That she was deserving of all of it. In his mind, as much as he hated to admit it, she was a Goddess. Often, he could be found gripping his head with a scowl on his face while he mentally debated this issue. No one dared ask.
He began to fall apart, torn between his current family and the one he wanted to be part of his future family. Yes, he’d finally given in and admitted that he wanted the littlest Weasel to be his wife someday. Oh, but his family wouldn’t like that. Neither would the other that he wanted to pledge his life to. They’d both take it about as well as getting a cute little puppy as a gift. And the puppy would be dead within hours.
He went on like this for almost a year, until his father was captured by the bloody fucking Ministry and taken to bloody fucking Azkaban. It had broken his entire home life. His mother was constantly close to tears, mostly unable to do anything but lay in bed all day. And since bloody Potter had lost them their house-elf, there was no one to take care of him. So he had to do the unthinkable: take care of himself. He hated having to cook all of his meals and clean up afterwards, but once the summer was done he grew to mind it less. It was rather liberating, this opportunity to be free of others’ command. To be able to do what he wanted, when he wanted. It allowed him to think more clearly. To, for once, think for himself.
Over the course of the following year, he lost nearly all of his friends. He just didn’t care about them anymore. Most had been appointed to befriend him by his father. But his father was gone, all of his memories sucked out by the dementors. So he stopped listening to the things he’d been told. Mostly. He still didn’t care for the Muggles, and was still determined to take the Mark, but didn’t want any of those idiotic goons for acquaintances. He preferred to be alone than to spend time with most of the idiots who made up the Slytherin house.
So he did. Instead of terrorizing small first years, he could usually be found in the library during his free time. It intrigued him, all of the things he’d been missing. He’d only ever heard one side of things, his father’s side. He liked to read about the other way of looking at the Muggles. It seemed...better, more humane. Not that he liked them, it just seemed a little wacko to blow them up for a hobby. Especially at someone else’s orders. It didn’t hurt that she was often in the library, so when he got tired of reading he could watch her. For some reason, he didn’t feel quite as guilty about it anymore.
“And then one day
A magic day he passed my way
And while we spoke of many things
Fools and kings
This he said to me...”
Rather, he was saddened by the fact that he didn’t know this girl better. She’d stolen his thoughts for many years, but he’d never properly spoken to her. That struck him as odd; he even had to think back to why he’d never approached her. Oh, yeah, she was his complete opposite. She was good, and he was bad. But he was starting not to believe that anymore. He was certainly not ready for fluffy bunnies, but he decidedly did not want to go and murder a bunch of people for some controlling, neurotic wizard anymore.
It was almost a relief to have finally determined that. He was going to do whatever he wanted. If he wanted his skin to be tattooed, he would damn well do it himself and pick a picture that he wanted. So there.
And if he wanted to be in love, he could.
But he still couldn’t get up the nerve to talk to her. He didn’t quite know why; he was definitely good-looking. And he was supposed to be able to do anything he wanted. He was a Malfoy.
It was rather ridiculous, this ongoing obsession that he never acted upon. It was no longer a complication, but a blessing. Sort of. Once he gave up on hating it, the feeling that he got whenever he saw her was rather nice. Why he ever contemplated giving it up just because of who her family was, he didn’t really know.
And he grew to adopt a new goal. It was no longer to become a Death Eater and further his father’s cause. He would leave the pathetic groveling to people like Peter. His new goal was her.
“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn
Is just to love, and be loved in return.”
end part 1
~~~~~
A.N: “Ecole de Sorcier” means “Wizard School” in French.
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