Disclaimer: I still do not own any characters and such associated with Harry Potter and J.K. Rowling. Why do you keep asking me that?! ^^;
Author’s Note: Okay, real quick I wanna tell you to be prepared for some average insults from Draco in this chapter. Words like “mudblood,” “scarface,” and “weasel” will be used frequently, and I have to say that yes, this annoys me. I’m just trying to keep Draco in character. Have you noticed how corny and overused all of his insults are? Hardly any of them are clever or original! So, just know that his verbal abuse against Harry, Ron, and Hermione won’t be much different here than it is in the books.
--
A thin beam of sunlight slowly made its way across the sixth year Slytherin dorms, widening until it broke through a crack in the silver and green curtains around one of the beds. The stream of light settled across the cheek of a pale face with handsome features and silverish-blonde hair. The eyelids of the light sleeper snapped open at the sudden warmth on his face, revealing soft silver eyes, which then slowly closed once more in comfort. He savored the heat of the sun for a few minutes, basking in the warmth that he was deprived of at his home, Malfoy Manor.
Draco Malfoy reopened his eyes and stared at the intricate carvings in the wood of his four-poster bed’s ceiling. “Happy birthday,” he whispered to himself. The day was September 2nd, his birthday, and the first day of Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts. Draco didn’t care about the fact that it was his sixteenth birthday, however. His parents had never been ones to celebrate such trivial holidays as birthdays, and this apathetic attitude had been passed down to their son.
No one else even knew when Draco’s birthday was; they just assumed it was during the summer because he would never talk about it. The only thing Draco ever did to acknowledge his birthday would be to quietly whisper, “Happy birthday” to himself after he would wake up. It was a ritual he began at five years old, when he finally accepted the fact that his family would never celebrate or even mention his birthday. Back then, it had been a way to pretend that the day was a special one, but now it was merely a dumb tradition that for some reason he felt he couldn’t break.
Draco reached over and pushed aside the hangings of his bed, searching for his wand. When his slender fingers felt the smooth wood of the object of their search, he grasped the wand and brought it to his face. “Nunc hora,” he whispered. Tiny silver beads appeared in the air above Draco’s wind tip at his words. The beads spun and rearranged themselves to read 6:47. “Purgo,” he said, and the beads vanished back into obscurity. “I might as well go down and eat breakfast since there’s no chance of getting any more sleep,” he thought as he pushed his hangings all the way to the side. He was met by a deafening snore from either Crabbe or Goyle; he didn’t know which.
--
After washing up and getting dressed, Draco made his way to the Great Hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. They’d woken up at the sound of Draco running the water for his shower, to the annoyance of Draco.
When the three made it to the Great Hall, most of the school had already taken their seats and begun to eat. Draco smirked at the first years that were shivering with new school jitters. The three laughed at the sight of a first year Hufflepuff accidentally knocking over a pitcher of orange juice. The juice spilled across the table and soaked into the tablecloth, but then suddenly disappeared as an annoyed older student muttered a cleaning spell.
Draco turned his attention to the Slytherin table as he took his seat and began picking his way through the breakfast choices, finally settling on a single banana. “Gosh, Draco, you’re so picky!” a high-pitched voice said from behind him.
Draco knew who it was without turning around, and he groaned inwardly. “I just know what I like, Parkinson.”
Pansy smirked and leaned down to whisper in his ear in what she thought was a tempting voice but ended up sounding like she had breathing problems. “So do I.” Draco mentally rolled his eyes as Pansy pushed Goyle to the side and squeezed in between him and Draco.
Draco looked sideways at Pansy and wondered how he could have ever thought of her as attractive. She had an adequate body and full lips but a pug nose, wiry hair, ears that stuck out marred her appearance, and she wore extremely too much make-up. In addition, she had the personality of dirt.
Suddenly, hooting filled the air as hundreds of owls flew in to drop off the mail. Draco’s schedule fell into his lap as he finished off his banana and he glanced down at it. Care of Magical Creatures was his first class, with the Gryffindors, of course. After that he had a free period (a privilege for sixth and seventh years), followed by Herbology with the Ravenclaws... Draco’s thoughts were interrupted when a letter landed on top of his plate, triggering beads of sweat to break out on Draco’s forehead.
“What’s that?” Pansy asked, reaching for it. Draco seized it from her fingers before she could get a glance at it and tucked it inside the pocket of his robes along with his schedule. “Who’s it from, Draco?” Pansy asked, trying but failing to mask her hurt.
Draco remained silent as he stood up from the table. Pansy began to follow suit but quickly sat back down at a dangerous glare from Draco, who began to rush out of the Hall and hurry down to the Slytherin common room. He knew whom the letter was from, even though there had been no return address on the envelope. He could recognize that seal anywhere.
“Lucius...” he whispered, clenching the still unopened letter in his fist. His...father. Draco laughed at the thought. Lucius, his father? Lucius was the farthest thing from a father imaginable, with the threats and beatings he would commonly issue to his only son. Dumbledore, the old fool, had been more of a father figure to Draco than Lucius had ever been.
When he was safe in his empty dorm, sitting on his bed with the curtains all closed, Draco pulled out the letter. He knew what was inside before he’d even opened it. Today was the day. The day that Draco had been dreading since he was a child. How could he have possibly forgotten? The thought hadn’t crossed his mind that morning until he’d seen the ominous letter land on his breakfast plate.
Draco slit open the envelope with slightly trembling hands and a laugh escaped his lips as he remembered the first years he’d been watching in the Great Hall just minutes earlier. “This is pathetic! I’m quivering like a child!” he thought. Draco breathed in deeply and regained his composure before taking out the slip of parchment and unfolding it, smoothing out the creases. There was no doubt about it—it was Lucius’s handwriting, all right. Draco began to read:
“Draco,
As you know, a young man is considered ‘of age’ when he turns sixteen, which you have turned today. Now you are finally old enough to receive the Dark Mark and become an official Death Eater like myself. I do not have to point out how crucial this initiation will be. If the Dark Lord does not consider you worthy enough to be one of his supporters, then he will reject you and you will be destroyed. I trust you are continuing your study of the Dark Arts in preparation for the initiation process. Your mother and I have agreed that it shall take place on December 25 when you are here for the holidays.”
Draco chuckled at the last statement: “Your mother and I have agreed...” There was no doubt in Draco’s mind that Narcissa was as excited about Draco’s future Death Eater initiation as Lucius was. “She must be SO proud,” Draco thought sardonically. “Her son, an official Death Eater like her wonderful husband! She’d probably be one herself if she weren’t too cowardly to attempt it, being that she is such an incompetent witch.” Draco was surprised Lucius had married such a weak witch, but, then again, Lucius only cared about...physical attributes when it came to his women, and Narcissa satisfied Lucius physically. Draco turned and focused his attention back on the letter.
“I have already informed the Dark Lord of your talents in magic and assured him you are honored to become a Death Eater. I expect you not to disappoint him.
Lucius Malfoy”
“Why does everyone assume I want to be a Death Eater?” Draco growled quietly. “I may do some nasty things, but I would never consider joining the Dark Forces. I’m not like my so-called friends.” Draco thought about the people he “hung out with” at Hogwarts. Every single one of them planned to become a Death Eater by next year, since they were all turning sixteen, like Draco, eventually. He didn’t know how he could stand them all every day. He didn’t like any of the Slytherins, and the only reason he tolerated them was to keep Lucius satisfied. Draco didn’t consider any of them real friends. He had no friends, unless you counted Snape. Draco didn’t need friends.
He raked his fingers through his slicked-back hair, causing some hairs to stick up wildly. “I must talk to Severus about this.” Draco walked back into the common room with the intention of going to Snape about the letter when he noticed the room was empty. “Shoot! Class is about to start! I’ll have to go see him during my free period.”
Before Care of Magical Creatures, Draco acted as if nothing abnormal had happened. “Draco, honey, what was wrong this morning? Who was that letter from?” Pansy asked, slinking her arms around Draco’s waist.
“Nothing,” he lied. He smirked as he said, “Just a letter that I wanted to open in private from a girl I met over the summer.”
“A-A girl?” Pansy repeated, tightening her hold on Draco as jealousy flashed in her eyes. “Does she mean anything to you? Do you like her?”
Before Draco could come back with a nasty comment, he heard Ron Weasley’s voice speak up behind him. “Well, if it isn’t the ferret and his little girlfriend,” Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione. Draco rolled his eyes as he prepared to throw some meaningless insults at the Dream Team.
“Ron, he heard you! Don’t provoke him!” Hermione warned in a hushed whisper.
“I should say the same thing about you and mudblood here, Weasel, “Draco replied, sneering.
Ron’s face turned a bright red color, either from embarrassment at Hermione being called his girlfriend, anger at Hermione being called a mudblood, or both. Ron lunged at Malfoy, but was pulled back by none other than Harry Potter. “Let it go, Ron. We don’t want a fight on the first day of school.”
“Listen to Scarface, Weasley. We wouldn’t want you all blooded up and in the infirmary now, would we?”
The three friends all glared at Draco. “Where are your cronies, Malfoy? Did they finally grow sick of you and stop fighting your battles for you?” Harry asked.
Actually, Draco didn’t know where they were. They were probably still stuffing their faces in the empty Great Hall, as was custom for them. “At least I don’t let a girl fight for me, let alone a mudblood.”
Harry reached for his wand, but stopped when he saw Hagrid step out of his hut to begin the day’s lesson. “Watch your tongue, Malfoy,” he stated simply, walking away. Harry was followed by Hermione and Ron, who threw a nasty glare at Draco as he left.
Draco just smirked, but his smirk was wiped away when Pansy tightened her death grip on Draco’s waist once more and said, “You should’ve just hexed them and been done with it.” Draco rolled his eyes at her rash thinking and replied by peeling her arms off of his torso. She then crossed her arms across her chest and huffed.
--
As Draco and Pansy tried to coax their mirsel (a vicious green and blue underwater creature with sharp teeth and six legs) out of its hiding place in its tank, an earsplitting scream filled the air.
“Neville, I told yeh not ter feed ‘im more than once!” Hagrid’s voice boomed. “Yer jes makin’ ‘im hungry fer more! That’s why he went an’ bit yer finger! Harry, Ron, Hermione, could yeh take Neville ter Madame Pomfrey fer me?”
“Of course, Hagrid!” Hermione answered, leading a whimpering and bleeding Neville to the castle as the Slytherins’ laughter rang across the grounds. Pansy turned to Draco, waiting expectantly for an insult to be spat at Neville, but the insult never came due to other things being on Draco’s mind.
“Oh, it’s time fer class ter be over already!” Hagrid exclaimed before Pansy could make mention of Draco’s uncharacteristic silence. “Make sure yer mirsels are in their tanks an’ safe before yeh head off ter yer next class!”
Draco gathered his things and hurried to the dungeons before Pansy could say anything. “I’ve got to talk to Snape about Lucius’s letter...”
--
Author’s Note: A quick note about the Latin words used in Draco’s spells... “Nunc” means “now, at the present time,” “hora” means “hour, time,” and “purgo” means “clear away, wash off.” So now you know why I chose those words for the spells.
Now do me a favor and please review!
Author’s Note: Okay, real quick I wanna tell you to be prepared for some average insults from Draco in this chapter. Words like “mudblood,” “scarface,” and “weasel” will be used frequently, and I have to say that yes, this annoys me. I’m just trying to keep Draco in character. Have you noticed how corny and overused all of his insults are? Hardly any of them are clever or original! So, just know that his verbal abuse against Harry, Ron, and Hermione won’t be much different here than it is in the books.
--
A thin beam of sunlight slowly made its way across the sixth year Slytherin dorms, widening until it broke through a crack in the silver and green curtains around one of the beds. The stream of light settled across the cheek of a pale face with handsome features and silverish-blonde hair. The eyelids of the light sleeper snapped open at the sudden warmth on his face, revealing soft silver eyes, which then slowly closed once more in comfort. He savored the heat of the sun for a few minutes, basking in the warmth that he was deprived of at his home, Malfoy Manor.
Draco Malfoy reopened his eyes and stared at the intricate carvings in the wood of his four-poster bed’s ceiling. “Happy birthday,” he whispered to himself. The day was September 2nd, his birthday, and the first day of Draco’s sixth year at Hogwarts. Draco didn’t care about the fact that it was his sixteenth birthday, however. His parents had never been ones to celebrate such trivial holidays as birthdays, and this apathetic attitude had been passed down to their son.
No one else even knew when Draco’s birthday was; they just assumed it was during the summer because he would never talk about it. The only thing Draco ever did to acknowledge his birthday would be to quietly whisper, “Happy birthday” to himself after he would wake up. It was a ritual he began at five years old, when he finally accepted the fact that his family would never celebrate or even mention his birthday. Back then, it had been a way to pretend that the day was a special one, but now it was merely a dumb tradition that for some reason he felt he couldn’t break.
Draco reached over and pushed aside the hangings of his bed, searching for his wand. When his slender fingers felt the smooth wood of the object of their search, he grasped the wand and brought it to his face. “Nunc hora,” he whispered. Tiny silver beads appeared in the air above Draco’s wind tip at his words. The beads spun and rearranged themselves to read 6:47. “Purgo,” he said, and the beads vanished back into obscurity. “I might as well go down and eat breakfast since there’s no chance of getting any more sleep,” he thought as he pushed his hangings all the way to the side. He was met by a deafening snore from either Crabbe or Goyle; he didn’t know which.
--
After washing up and getting dressed, Draco made his way to the Great Hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. They’d woken up at the sound of Draco running the water for his shower, to the annoyance of Draco.
When the three made it to the Great Hall, most of the school had already taken their seats and begun to eat. Draco smirked at the first years that were shivering with new school jitters. The three laughed at the sight of a first year Hufflepuff accidentally knocking over a pitcher of orange juice. The juice spilled across the table and soaked into the tablecloth, but then suddenly disappeared as an annoyed older student muttered a cleaning spell.
Draco turned his attention to the Slytherin table as he took his seat and began picking his way through the breakfast choices, finally settling on a single banana. “Gosh, Draco, you’re so picky!” a high-pitched voice said from behind him.
Draco knew who it was without turning around, and he groaned inwardly. “I just know what I like, Parkinson.”
Pansy smirked and leaned down to whisper in his ear in what she thought was a tempting voice but ended up sounding like she had breathing problems. “So do I.” Draco mentally rolled his eyes as Pansy pushed Goyle to the side and squeezed in between him and Draco.
Draco looked sideways at Pansy and wondered how he could have ever thought of her as attractive. She had an adequate body and full lips but a pug nose, wiry hair, ears that stuck out marred her appearance, and she wore extremely too much make-up. In addition, she had the personality of dirt.
Suddenly, hooting filled the air as hundreds of owls flew in to drop off the mail. Draco’s schedule fell into his lap as he finished off his banana and he glanced down at it. Care of Magical Creatures was his first class, with the Gryffindors, of course. After that he had a free period (a privilege for sixth and seventh years), followed by Herbology with the Ravenclaws... Draco’s thoughts were interrupted when a letter landed on top of his plate, triggering beads of sweat to break out on Draco’s forehead.
“What’s that?” Pansy asked, reaching for it. Draco seized it from her fingers before she could get a glance at it and tucked it inside the pocket of his robes along with his schedule. “Who’s it from, Draco?” Pansy asked, trying but failing to mask her hurt.
Draco remained silent as he stood up from the table. Pansy began to follow suit but quickly sat back down at a dangerous glare from Draco, who began to rush out of the Hall and hurry down to the Slytherin common room. He knew whom the letter was from, even though there had been no return address on the envelope. He could recognize that seal anywhere.
“Lucius...” he whispered, clenching the still unopened letter in his fist. His...father. Draco laughed at the thought. Lucius, his father? Lucius was the farthest thing from a father imaginable, with the threats and beatings he would commonly issue to his only son. Dumbledore, the old fool, had been more of a father figure to Draco than Lucius had ever been.
When he was safe in his empty dorm, sitting on his bed with the curtains all closed, Draco pulled out the letter. He knew what was inside before he’d even opened it. Today was the day. The day that Draco had been dreading since he was a child. How could he have possibly forgotten? The thought hadn’t crossed his mind that morning until he’d seen the ominous letter land on his breakfast plate.
Draco slit open the envelope with slightly trembling hands and a laugh escaped his lips as he remembered the first years he’d been watching in the Great Hall just minutes earlier. “This is pathetic! I’m quivering like a child!” he thought. Draco breathed in deeply and regained his composure before taking out the slip of parchment and unfolding it, smoothing out the creases. There was no doubt about it—it was Lucius’s handwriting, all right. Draco began to read:
“Draco,
As you know, a young man is considered ‘of age’ when he turns sixteen, which you have turned today. Now you are finally old enough to receive the Dark Mark and become an official Death Eater like myself. I do not have to point out how crucial this initiation will be. If the Dark Lord does not consider you worthy enough to be one of his supporters, then he will reject you and you will be destroyed. I trust you are continuing your study of the Dark Arts in preparation for the initiation process. Your mother and I have agreed that it shall take place on December 25 when you are here for the holidays.”
Draco chuckled at the last statement: “Your mother and I have agreed...” There was no doubt in Draco’s mind that Narcissa was as excited about Draco’s future Death Eater initiation as Lucius was. “She must be SO proud,” Draco thought sardonically. “Her son, an official Death Eater like her wonderful husband! She’d probably be one herself if she weren’t too cowardly to attempt it, being that she is such an incompetent witch.” Draco was surprised Lucius had married such a weak witch, but, then again, Lucius only cared about...physical attributes when it came to his women, and Narcissa satisfied Lucius physically. Draco turned and focused his attention back on the letter.
“I have already informed the Dark Lord of your talents in magic and assured him you are honored to become a Death Eater. I expect you not to disappoint him.
Lucius Malfoy”
“Why does everyone assume I want to be a Death Eater?” Draco growled quietly. “I may do some nasty things, but I would never consider joining the Dark Forces. I’m not like my so-called friends.” Draco thought about the people he “hung out with” at Hogwarts. Every single one of them planned to become a Death Eater by next year, since they were all turning sixteen, like Draco, eventually. He didn’t know how he could stand them all every day. He didn’t like any of the Slytherins, and the only reason he tolerated them was to keep Lucius satisfied. Draco didn’t consider any of them real friends. He had no friends, unless you counted Snape. Draco didn’t need friends.
He raked his fingers through his slicked-back hair, causing some hairs to stick up wildly. “I must talk to Severus about this.” Draco walked back into the common room with the intention of going to Snape about the letter when he noticed the room was empty. “Shoot! Class is about to start! I’ll have to go see him during my free period.”
Before Care of Magical Creatures, Draco acted as if nothing abnormal had happened. “Draco, honey, what was wrong this morning? Who was that letter from?” Pansy asked, slinking her arms around Draco’s waist.
“Nothing,” he lied. He smirked as he said, “Just a letter that I wanted to open in private from a girl I met over the summer.”
“A-A girl?” Pansy repeated, tightening her hold on Draco as jealousy flashed in her eyes. “Does she mean anything to you? Do you like her?”
Before Draco could come back with a nasty comment, he heard Ron Weasley’s voice speak up behind him. “Well, if it isn’t the ferret and his little girlfriend,” Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione. Draco rolled his eyes as he prepared to throw some meaningless insults at the Dream Team.
“Ron, he heard you! Don’t provoke him!” Hermione warned in a hushed whisper.
“I should say the same thing about you and mudblood here, Weasel, “Draco replied, sneering.
Ron’s face turned a bright red color, either from embarrassment at Hermione being called his girlfriend, anger at Hermione being called a mudblood, or both. Ron lunged at Malfoy, but was pulled back by none other than Harry Potter. “Let it go, Ron. We don’t want a fight on the first day of school.”
“Listen to Scarface, Weasley. We wouldn’t want you all blooded up and in the infirmary now, would we?”
The three friends all glared at Draco. “Where are your cronies, Malfoy? Did they finally grow sick of you and stop fighting your battles for you?” Harry asked.
Actually, Draco didn’t know where they were. They were probably still stuffing their faces in the empty Great Hall, as was custom for them. “At least I don’t let a girl fight for me, let alone a mudblood.”
Harry reached for his wand, but stopped when he saw Hagrid step out of his hut to begin the day’s lesson. “Watch your tongue, Malfoy,” he stated simply, walking away. Harry was followed by Hermione and Ron, who threw a nasty glare at Draco as he left.
Draco just smirked, but his smirk was wiped away when Pansy tightened her death grip on Draco’s waist once more and said, “You should’ve just hexed them and been done with it.” Draco rolled his eyes at her rash thinking and replied by peeling her arms off of his torso. She then crossed her arms across her chest and huffed.
--
As Draco and Pansy tried to coax their mirsel (a vicious green and blue underwater creature with sharp teeth and six legs) out of its hiding place in its tank, an earsplitting scream filled the air.
“Neville, I told yeh not ter feed ‘im more than once!” Hagrid’s voice boomed. “Yer jes makin’ ‘im hungry fer more! That’s why he went an’ bit yer finger! Harry, Ron, Hermione, could yeh take Neville ter Madame Pomfrey fer me?”
“Of course, Hagrid!” Hermione answered, leading a whimpering and bleeding Neville to the castle as the Slytherins’ laughter rang across the grounds. Pansy turned to Draco, waiting expectantly for an insult to be spat at Neville, but the insult never came due to other things being on Draco’s mind.
“Oh, it’s time fer class ter be over already!” Hagrid exclaimed before Pansy could make mention of Draco’s uncharacteristic silence. “Make sure yer mirsels are in their tanks an’ safe before yeh head off ter yer next class!”
Draco gathered his things and hurried to the dungeons before Pansy could say anything. “I’ve got to talk to Snape about Lucius’s letter...”
--
Author’s Note: A quick note about the Latin words used in Draco’s spells... “Nunc” means “now, at the present time,” “hora” means “hour, time,” and “purgo” means “clear away, wash off.” So now you know why I chose those words for the spells.
Now do me a favor and please review!
To Be Continued.
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This story is a favorite of 2 members. Members who liked Soulmates also liked 250 other stories.
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