Giving this a try, though I have no idea how it will turn out, but I do have the plans for quite a while ahead. Don't own anything, please review if you think I should continue with this.
He stepped gracefully onto Platform 9 3/4. No person, Muggle or Wizard, would see him hurry like any mere commoner. Cold grey eyes stared lazily around the station, trapping and hiding any emotion held within them, save for malice. A sneer twisted his lips as he watched the children racing past him. His glance shifted to the magnificent red train before him, dark eyes focused ahead, determined on keeping the silence surrounding him.
He walked towards it, heavy immaculate boots clicking with the stone floor. His platinum blond hair was splayed across his forehead, stated as the family trademark. For he was the son of Lucius Malfoy, prominent in the wizarding communities, both good and bad. Loyal to the Dark Lord, and following in the darkness of the Malfoy bloodline.
This seventeen year old vision of Salazar Slytherin himself was named Draco Malfoy. One whom had never been known, never been understood. All that followed as he walked were rumours, nothing was known beyond the fundamentals. Head Boy; yes that had been heard. Death Eater; most believed that to be a given. The female heartthrob of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; agreed upon by the majority.
His steady gaze shifted as he saw a group of three people standing casually just beyond the entrance of the train. His silver eyes connected with emerald green ones containing a harsh coldness, that didn't fail to be met. His sneer increased as he lifted his stare, these people didn't merit his attention in his mind.
The mindless Harry Potter, greatest enemy to all who support darkness in any form. Ronald Weasley, the densest being to hit Hogwarts in its thousands of years, determined to ever remain loyal sidekick to Potter. And of course the Mudblood know-it-all Granger, with her purely Gryffindor attitude. Standing securely, with the 'Head Girl' badge already pinned proudly to her jumper.
Her eyes shifted and soft brown met hard grey. He scoffed at how easily he could read the emotions inside her mind. He knew how eager she was to get back to the school, and it was sickening. He didn't care about the fact that it was his seventh year at Hogwarts, he hated the place almost as much as the fool who ran it, Albus Dumbledore. Determined that nothing could ever beat him and the famous Harry Potter.
The sneer faded from his lips gradually as he took a seat in an empty compartment, soon filled with his Slytherin counterparts. Blaise Zabini was the one who knew the most of Draco out of anyone, living or dead. But even he knew naught of sketchy details. One who had been a close friend in family to the Malfoy's since birth, he remembered the harshness that had been taught to the boy at a young age. Not once could he remember being informed of anything from any family, been confided in, or anything of the like.
Blaise himself, had turned cold as well, not quite, so to speak, as cold as the King of Slytherins. After all he had seen, it was a wonder he hadn't cracked sooner, gone completely mad. Few knew of the darkness in his heart, which he fairly refused to pay notice. Any mention of the life he once knew had been washed away entirely. It was almost as if him and Draco Malfoy had an unmentioned bond, unseen and unheard of, but exerting a faint presence over anyone who saw the pair.
Occasionally on the long journey Pansy Parkinson would open her mouth to speak, but would be silenced at one glare from Draco's cold, harsh gaze. The other occupants, Crabbe and Goyle, were too busy sleeping and eating to notice what was taking place in the premises. Neither of them had any true depth to their lives. Draco snickered as he thought what they would do if anything happened in their lives that was unexpected. Probably lay over and pretend to be asleep.
His face set into a cold expression as he noticed Pansy reading a book. She had been one to play a role in his undoing. She had almost learned how his mind controlled itself years ago. Another friend of the Malfoy family, to keep up appearances, her and Draco had never achieved anything beyond an attempted acquaintanceship. Over their years at Hogwarts, they had grown even further apart, after she had tried to see the meaning to his life in their fourth year. She had wanted a relationship, one that he wasn't willing to spend time to give. Or else he was just unable to remove the blockade around his heart long enough to realize what love could be.
Albeit he had never had a true relationship or actually cared about anyone in his life, he was far from inexperienced. Girls often lined up for a chance with him, for anything at all, regardless of him being the cold-hearted Slytherin that he was. And of course, he had never seen love between his parents, which had been arranged for the sole purpose of making an heir to continue the Malfoy line.
He stretched out on the bench of the compartment, turning his gaze towards the English countryside rapidly passing by. Awe-inspiring images fell somewhat flat on the way to his mind. He closed his heavy eyelids with the intent of catching some sleep to pass the time, when there came a small knock on the door. Blaise opened it hesitantly, and Draco barely moved his head to inspect the visitor.
He set his head back against the window as he saw it was only a second or third year, probably from Hufflepuff by the way he was shaking, Draco thought mirthfully. The boy took a small step into the room, and opened his mouth slowly. He seemed unable to say anything, but Blaise continued staring, waiting for any sign of life.
"The Head Boy," he began in a shaky voice. Draco glanced back out of the window. He hadn't asked for the title, he didn't even want it, let alone the responsibilities and attention along with it. "He's supposed to go to the front of the train to receive a message from Dumbledore," the boy finished, and was back out the door right away. Draco stood up after a while, and left silently, ignoring the looks he was receiving. He neglected to notice the sadness in them, at how he had become.
He walked slowly down the long hallway of the train, shoving first and second years out of the way when they happened to be in his direct path. He ignored the giggling girls as he passed, mentally shuddering at the supposed level of their IQs. His eyes once again harboured their deepest resentment to anyone who caught his gaze.
He arrived at the front of the train, noting the foremost compartment had a shiny dark plaque with the word 'Heads' embossed in gold. He slowly turned the handle and stepped in, to an unexpectedly empty compartment. He had assumed Granger to be there in her bookworm-like glory by the time he had opened the door. He took a seat on one bench and noticed an owl flying alongside the train, just outside the window. He opened it, and the creature flew in gratefully, dropping a roll of parchment on the floor. He bent over to pick it up, and just then the door flew open and Hermione Granger ran in, breathing heavily. He sneered at how keen she was to do the Headmaster's bidding.
She sat down on the bench across from him, bent over with her hands on her knees. She didn't even notice his captivating grey eyes focused on her, unblinking. She looked up, and stared straight at him, with a challenging look in her eyes. He looked away, smirking at her naivety. If she thought she could spook him with a simple glance, she had another thing coming indeed.
She watched, intending to look uninterested as he scan through the letter Dumbledore sent from the school. He scowled at it as he finished, and handed it to Hermione, fuming inwardly. How dare that old man decide that house bonds need to be strengthened. Why the hell would he think that this could be achieved if only the heads spent the entire year together. Draco would have been perfectly content staying in the Slytherin dorms and hating Mudbloods like he always had. However, he had pride, and wished to keep his position of an authority figure as Head Boy, as long as it was his to keep.
A small cry from the opposite side of the compartment brought him back to the present, where he saw Granger staring at the parchment with wide eyes. She parted her pink lips as if to say something, but shut them and grudgingly pulled out a copy of "Advanced Transfiguration" and began to read. Draco on the other hand, leaned back and closed his eyes, not noticing the furtive glances he was receiving from his complete opposite across the cart.
Hermione Granger had grown up in an environment that would be considered welcome by anyone. In most people's standards she had a childhood to die for. Two parents loved her more than life itself, a wonderful older brother who was anything like a typical brother in most opinions. Of course she was the smarted girl in her younger grades. And then she learned of Hogwarts and her true heritage. Her family were shocked and started to treat her differently. To all appearances they remained happy, and were extremely proud of her.
Each year as she returned to her school, her family would discuss what was happening to her. When she came home she constantly spoke of what she had learned. It had begun to unnerve them. But of course they stayed happy for she was delighted. The summer before her sixth year she overheard her parents talking of her. Ever curious, she stopped to listen and heard what she had not wanted to. Tears welled in her eyes but she willed herself to stay put, as they agreed she would be unable to continue her life in the magical world as soon as she had graduated.
With a heavy heart she returned to school for her second last year, only to have it go hardly better than her summer had. Ron and Harry, always the best of friends, were becoming more immersed in their Quidditch. Hermione however, told herself that their constant disappearances and ignorance were not aimed at her.
It was in that moment back home, just over a year ago, that she had decided to make her last years of magic the best they could be. But with the war looming ever closer, she became concerned. Petty grades wouldn't help her from the might of the dark side over her own. She had kept it a very well hidden secret that she was doubting their power in the war. More than once had she wondered what could happen if they had lost.
She put away her book, with a sigh, and pulled out a new one. The other occupant of the compartment opened his eyes at the sudden noise, and shot her a glare, taking in her long dark hair, and big brown eyes. She took a good look at his sharp features, and mostly, his shocking silver eyes burning into her own. It was true he was extremely attractive, more so than he had been as a cocky young boy in his first years at school. However, she was much more than skin-deep like many other girls who went only for looks. She knew the person beneath the beauty, so to speak.
She thought back to her parents reaction upon receiving her letter announcing her Head Girl for the following year. They had acted proud, and said how much she deserved it. She keep up an image she believed them wholly. Inside she was breaking, wondering why they hadn't bothered to tell her what they had determined about the following summer.
Her brother however, had given up all pretense of showing he was happy for her. As her parents became confused of their decision, he had started to hate his "freak" of a sister. He had changed from the loving brother, to a cold stranger. Cold like Draco Malfoy. She shook away the memories, refusing to let them overtake her mind, and force her to break down in front of her greatest enemy. If only his cold stare didn't so remind her of her brother's, before he had left for a Muggle college.
The last words he spoke to her filled her head, impossible to block out, as she felt, horrified, a tear roll down her cheek. "Come talk to me if you ever turn normal again," he had said, voice filled with spite. She remembered watching him drive off, possibly to never see him again. She looked up at the ceiling, and slammed her book in frustration. Another tear fell, and she choked on a sob.
"If you don't mind, Granger, I'm trying to sleep," came the irritated voice of Draco Malfoy. She looked at him and noticed him glaring at her again. He didn't care that her cheeks were tear-stained. 'Why would he,' she thought irritably with herself. 'It's not like I would care in the situation, if he ever let out any emotion at all,' her conscience reminded her.
"Honestly, if you're going to turn into a fountain, please leave, I'd hate to drown in Mudblood tears," he continued, eyes glinting evilly. He looked away indifferently, and didn't speak further. She gave him one last half-hearted glare, and left the compartment, slamming the door behind her. He barely turned his head, just to check if she was gone. He let out an annoyed sigh; this would be an incredibly long year.