For I Am A Wicked ChildHorseface
The only constant in the universe is change
Draco Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading and sneered. He was in the Slytherin common room where Crabbe and Goyle, who had no interest in literacy, were sitting on the floor happily eating handfuls of Cockroach clusters, occasionally making approving grunting noises. Draco rolled his eyes in disgust, before slamming his book shut, then walking back to his room. As he slammed the door behind him he felt glad that he had persuaded his father to get him his own private room. Draco required his personal space and besides, having to spend time with those goons Crabbe and Goyle was bad enough, without having to share a room as well.
He cringed at the thought as he took a seat on his bed.
The year was almost at an end, with two weeks left to go and Draco was bored out of his mind. Ever since last year, when that Hufflepuff boy died, life at Hogwarts had become very different. There was still a somber tone in the air and everyone was a lot more serious nowadays. The fact that Voldemort had risen again wasn't helping the situation either. The teachers were a lot stricter, always keeping an eye out on everyone, which meant it was harder for Draco to get away with things that he would've considered fool proof in the past. Visits to Hogsmeade were considered risky so students were very rarely allowed to go out, not to mention that only those who were 5th year or older could go. For Draco, everything was becoming so routine now, so mundane… so utterly and mindnumbingly boring. Even mocking Harry Potter and his friends was beginning to lose its appeal.
The only mildly interesting thing that had happened this year was the division of Slytherin house. Now that Voldemort had risen again some of the Slytherin students, who happened to be Deatheater's children, were more open about their support. Many students discussed their excitement of obtaining the dark mark and becoming a death eater, claiming they would rid the wizarding world of any impure blood. However, all these conversations were merely inaudible whispers that quickly disappeared in the dank dungeon air, since the head of Slytherin house, Professor Snape, was openly against Voldemort. It was his attitude towards Deatheaters and You-Know-Who, which kept some of the Slytherin students quiet as to whether or not they shared the same sentiments as their "up-with-Voldemort" peers.
But a house divided against itself cannot stand, and Draco had often witnessed members of Slytherin coming to blows with each other. As one of the more respected students of Slytherin, Draco had never been involved in these fights but at times he felt conflicted. He was all for the idea of getting rid of mudbloods and muggleborns, but then… wouldn't that also mean getting rid of Voldemort too? Draco fell back onto his bed, his silvery blonde hair falling into his eyes. In all honesty, Draco thought most of the Slytherin students were idiots anyway, so he really didn't care whether they decided to tear themselves apart over something as stupid as who was going to be the first of them to join Voldemort's ranks.
As he blew his hair out of his face, something on his bedside table caught his eye. Draco turned onto his side, and picked it up. It was a letter, from his father. He'd received it earlier that week, but couldn't be bothered to open it. He stared at the back of the envelope, his hand tracing around the indigo wax seal, with the letters LM stamped onto it. His father's initials. Draco turned back to the bedside table, and pulled a letter opener out from one of the drawers. Slicing the letter open, he made sure to break the seal with his father's initials on it completely. He pulled the letter out, and carelessly tossed the envelope to one side. He sat up as he began to read what his father had written,
This is to inform you that this year, we shall be spending the holidays at home. I have something very important to tell you.
Draco read the letter twice. Blunt and straight to the point. It was as if his father was right there. Draco scrunched the letter up in one hand and threw it across the room; he'd get Goyle to clean it up later. Draco lay back down on the bed, with one arm behind his head, and the other resting on his chest. Holidays at Malfoy manor were always so dull. His mother would, of course, throw several excessively dreary dinner parties with half of the upper class wizarding society in attendance. His father used these opportunities to discuss business with many of the most rich and powerful wizards in Britain, some of whom, Draco knew for a fact, were Deatheaters. Although he would've enjoyed being involved in these gatherings, his father was a very private man, so Draco was never permitted to engage in any of his father's social activities. In fact, Lucius was so secretive about some aspects of his life, Draco wasn't entirely sure whether his father supported the dark side or not.
The only fun Draco ever had at these events was when Crabbe and Goyle would attend. Draco liked to lead them around the manor, before ditching them, leaving them completely lost. When they managed to find him again, they were always extremely angry with him, but Draco was always able to convince them that it was their own fault they got lost. They always believed anything he told them. "Anything I tell them …" pondered Draco, as he recalled what else was in the letter, "Father said he has something important to tell me… father tells me important things in his letters to me all the time. Unless… it's something he can't mention in fear that someone else might read it…" Knock Knock. Draco broke his train of thought and scowled.
"Who is it?" he snapped.
"Me," said a gruff voice. 'Goyle,' thought Draco.
"Well what do you want then?" said Draco, irate.
"Uh… we've got Advanced Transfiguration in 5 minutes."
Draco raised an eyebrow. Goyle never remembered when he had classes. Something was up. Draco stood up from the bed and strode over to the door. He yanked it open to find Goyle… standing with Pansy Parkinson.
"Hello Draco," she smiled. Draco smirked.
"Hello Pansy," replied Draco in mock interest. " How are you enjoying using my friends for your own benefit?"
Pansy laughed. "Well, I really didn't want to bother you Draco."
"So you got Goyle here to do it instead?"
Pansy shrugged and looked at him from underneath her long dark lashes, smiling.
Pansy Parkinson was one of the few people Draco could consistently tolerate. Ever since second year, his father encouraged him to spend time with her, seeing as Draco and Pansy's father were good friends, not to mention the Parkinson's were also obscenely rich. However, Draco was somewhat reluctant, as his first impression of her was that she was just like every other girl that came from a rich wizarding family, vapid and shallow. Not to mention she'd formed an attachment to Draco, a kind of infatuation bordering on psychotic. However in the end, he'd agreed, but only under the condition that his father get him on the Slytherin Quidditch team by buying Nimbus 2001's for the whole team. Not that it helped, Slytherin had still lost the Quidditch cup that year, and his father had refused to buy him any new brooms, until he managed to win on his Nimbus.
Fortunately for him, Pansy hadn't turned out to be as bad as he'd originally thought. True, she was like every other rich girl out there, but with a twist. She had a cruel streak in her, and not just petty bitchiness, but definite sadistic qualities. They weren't as malicious as Draco's, but still vindictive enough so that one could easily draw similarities between the two of them. More intellectually stimulating than Crabbe and Goyle combined, Pansy provided Draco with someone to talk to when he wanted to discuss a subject that was more complex than food. But she wasn't so smart that she could get the better of him and that was fine with Draco, who loved having power over others.
Pansy took a small step forward, placing one hand on the door frame and resting her head against it.
"Want to walk me to class?"
Draco looked back at her with his pale blue eyes.
"Goyle, get my books."
Taking Pansy's arm, the two of them began to make their way to class.
Draco had already been sitting in Advanced Transfiguration for a few minutes, when Harry Potter and his "groupies", Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger came in. Granger sat down with Neville at the front of the class, while Weasley and Potter took the desk next to them. In front of Draco. Draco smirked and shook his head. He'd never come across a bigger bunch of wankers in his life. Harry Potter was the leader of the group, and the worst of the lot. Ever since first year he and Draco had been sworn enemies. Aside from the fact that they were in rival houses, they wouldn't have gotten on anyway. A while ago, Draco had figured out that Harry didn't like him because he wasn't a "nice person," unlike Harry who was everyone's hero. Which, conversely, was why Draco hated him. Because, everyone loved Harry Potter. Harry, the hero. Harry, the goddamn saviour of the wizarding world. It made Draco sick… not to mention the fact he'd never won a Quidditch match against him.
Everyone had always assumed, that because Draco hated Harry, he hated Granger and Weasley as well. In all honesty, Draco had never really cared about either of them. Sure, it pissed Draco off when Granger, the Mudblood bettered his scores academically, and it was always annoying whenever Weasley would try to be a hero and stand up to Draco. But when it came down to it, Granger was just some swotty mudblood who could memorize facts, but was almost hopeless with a wand and Weasley was just some poor boy clamouring for attention and status. Draco didn't hate them. Disdainful indifference was more like it.
"Bloody hell," said Ron, as he rummaged around in his book bag, "I've forgotten my quill. You got a spare one Harry?"
Before Harry could reply, Draco let out a short bark of laughter.
"Forgotten your quill Weasley? More likely you couldn't afford one."
Ron scowled. "Shut it Malfoy, or I'll shut it for you."
Draco smirked. "Go ahead… I dare you."
Ron narrowed his eyes at him, and got to his feet, searching through his robes, ignoring Hermione who was telling him to sit down. Just as he pulled out his wand, and pointed it at Draco, who watched him with boredom, McGonagall's stern voice cut through the air.
Ron brought his wand down, and Draco merely folded his arms, smirking, as Professor McGonagall approached them.
"Would you mind telling me what you were doing, brandishing your wand at Mr Malfoy?"
Ron lowered his head, and shook his head,
"Then perhaps you should do something, like putting it away and taking your seat. Class is about to start," she said, with a firm expression.
Ron gritted his teeth, as he sat down, shooting a glare in Draco's direction. Draco replied with his trademark smirk, and he heard Harry try to calm Ron down by saying, "Forget it Ron. It's just Malfoy. He's not worth it, let it go."
Draco rolled his eyes, as he watched Ron nod in agreement. If they hadn't been in a classroom at the moment, Harry would've pulled out his wand along with Ron, and would've hexed him three ways to Sunday. Gryffindors were such hypocrites. As McGonagall begun her lesson on changing an inanimate object into an animal as equally dull as the original object, Draco turned his head slightly to spot Granger scowling at him, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Weasel.
Draco tilted his head slightly and slowly mouthed the word "Mudblood," before smiling maliciously at her.
Hermione blushed and quickly turned around, her bushy hair whipping around her head. True, teasing the three 'Gryffindorks' wasn't as fun as it used to be… but it was still fun. Draco grinned to himself, and then proceeded to go off in his own world, blocking out the sound of McGonagall's voice.
Spacing out seemed to be the only way Draco managed to get through the final weeks of term. He would have believed it was impossible, but somehow Professor Vector's Advanced Arithmancy classes had become even more tedious and Professor McGonagall's voice had turned into one long drone, that drilled into the back of Draco's skull during Advanced Transfiguration class. By the time the end of term dinner came around, he was so relieved the school year was over, that he kept his sneering to a minimum when it was announced that Gryffindor had won the house cup, AGAIN.
As Draco slipped back into the Slytherin dungeon, where the house members were getting into their end of year party, Pansy ambled up to Draco and placed an arm around him.
"So… Draco, we probably won't be sssseeing each other mussh during the holidays since I'm headed off to Greecey Weecey."
From the slur of her words Draco could tell Pansy was half way pissed. He'd seen her like this a couple of times before and she'd always ended up coming onto him. Just like she was now, wrapping both her arms around his neck and staring up into his eyes, smiling drunkenly.
"Will you missh me, Dwaaco?"
Instead of answering, Draco asked, "How much have you had to drink Pansy?"
She giggled, hiccupping a few times. Obviously, a lot.
"No, I won't miss you Pansy. At all."
Pansy giggled again. "O-k!"
Draco rolled his eyes before pushing Pansy off, and walking past her as she lay sprawled out on the floor, laughing at nothing. Pansy was all right, but she was such an idiot when she got drunk.
Draco didn't see Pansy the next morning, assuming she was lying in bed with a dreadful hangover, courtesy of the previous night. In fact, Draco was one of the few Slytherin students who managed to get up in time for breakfast that morning. Despite most Slytherin students having similar personality traits; cunning, shrewdness, a tendency towards the darker side of wizardry, a high tolerance for alcohol was not one of the more common ones. As everyone boarded the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade station, it was obvious that most of the Slytherin's were still recovering, snapping at anything and everyone, much nastier than normal. Due to this, the journey back to London was very quiet, with everyone in the Slytherin carriages sleeping. The rest of the school sensibly kept their distance, and scuttled away hurriedly at the mere glimpse of green and silver.
As soon as the train had pulled up to Platform 9 ¾'s, most of the students hurried off the train quickly, glad to be back home and glad to get away from the Slytherin's. As Draco stepped off the train, he looked around the platform before quickly spotting a tall man with silvery blonde hair, resembling his own. Draco turned to Crabbe and Goyle, who were looming behind him, and quickly nodded goodbye, before making his way over to his father.
Lucius Malfoy always spoke softly, but he was always heard. He rarely raised his voice, but Draco knew it was because he felt people should listen to him, instead of bothering to get their attention.
"I trust that your journey was comfortable?"
"It was bearable," replied Draco, knowing that his father didn't really care.
"Your luggage has already been taken care of as per usual. Now, if you'll follow me," said his father, turning on his heel.
Draco obeyed, and quickly fell into step beside his father. There was silence between them, as they approached a stagecoach, bearing a large M engraved in gold on the door. It was the Malfoy family's personal stagecoach, and it was a lot more elegant and luxurious than the ones they had at Hogwarts. Draco and his father climbed inside, and at once, the carriage began to make its way to Malfoy Manor.
"Glad to be going home, Draco?" asked Lucius, as the carriage traveled through vast landscapes of lush countryside scenery. Draco nodded in reply.
"Yes, father. That excuse for a school was becoming unbearable."
Lucius stared at Draco for a moment, before looking out the window and casually saying, "Hmm. I suppose that's why Slytherin house lost again this year?"
Draco bit his lip. Lucius had been a former Slytherin himself, and Draco knew he wouldn't be pleased to hear that Slytherin had continued their amazing losing streak on for another year. He scowled.
"It wasn't our fault. Not with that old geezer Dumbledore playing favourites among the houses, supporting those stupid Gryffindor goody two shoes. Honestly. Hasn't the nutcase ever head of retirement?"
"Well, you won't have to worry about him anymore," he said smoothly, still looking out the window. Draco raised an eyebrow at this. Knowing his father… he didn't know exactly what Lucius meant. Especially from THAT sort of remark. Before Draco could question him, his father turned to face him and said, " We received your O.W.L results."
Draco looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with his father. The results from his OWL's weren't supposed to be known for several weeks, but no doubt his father had pulled some strings at the ministry to receive them early. Education was something considered important in the Malfoy household. For the past couple of years, his father had been... less than pleased with him since he was never at the top of his class, always outdone by Granger. He looked back at his father, who was still staring at him, no emotion showing at all.
Lucius reached into his pocket and pulled out an already opened envelope, before gracefully tossing it towards Draco. He said nothing as Draco reached into the envelope and slipped out a single piece of parchment. Draco hesitated for a moment, glancing at his father, who was staring back at him with those cold blue eyes. Turning his attention back to the parchment, he unfolded it and took a look. A series of O's stared back at him.
He glanced back at his father, whose face was still a mask, but his eyes were less frozen.
"You came first in your class. Not even that silly little mudblood girl managed all O's."
Draco smirked, "She is a silly little mudblood isn't she?"
"Can't say I'm surprised about your results. After all…it's in your blood. The fact that a mudblood like her can do so well is quite a shock, I must admit. Hogwarts really has gone to the dogs," he said, with a slight tone of disgust distinguishable in his voice, before glancing out the window.
"Ah. Finally. We're here."
Draco glanced out the window and was admittedly glad when he caught sight of the large, stone walls and iron gates of Malfoy Manor in the distance. As soon as the carriage stopped on the dusty path in front of the manor house, he climbed out quickly, and while waiting for his father, he took a quick look around. The Manor was just as he remembered. Flowerbeds running along the path and around the house, containing Dittany, Puffapods and Alihotsy. Chilean rose Tentacula vines crept up the sides of the unyielding dark stone walls, and across the archway that led to the back of the house. Draco broke his gaze away from the manor, and looked over his shoulder. His father emerged from the stagecoach, and paused for a moment to straighten his robes, before making his way to the house. Draco followed his father through the large marble pilasters leading to the heavy wooden doors and inside. He had barely stepped into the entrance hall, when he caught sight of his mother, Narcissa Malfoy, coming down the central staircase.
"Draco darling," she cooed, before walking over to him and wrapping her arms around him.
"Welcome home," she said holding him at arms length, looking up at him. Over Christmas break, Draco had come to find that he was almost the same height as his father now, and a lot taller than his mother.
"It's been far too long."
"Indeed," he replied.
His mother went on to ask him a series of mundane questions like she always did whenever he came home from school, and Draco gave her the same old answers. As she began to banter on about his outstanding O.W.L results, Draco almost rolled his eyes at her. Unfortunately for Draco, his mother was indeed like every other wealthy woman who had gained her fortune from her family or husband. Dull and annoying. Just when his mother was beginning to compare his marks to children from other families, Draco interrupted her.
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to excuse me Mother, it's been a long day, and I'd like to get some rest before dinner." It wasn't a complete lie. His journey had taken so long, that the sun was already beginning to set and Draco was starting to get irritable.
"Oh, of course darling. I understand."
Draco smiled politely, "Thank you."
He turned towards Lucius and bowed his head slightly, before making his way up the staircase and to his room.
Draco's eyes slowly opened. 'What time is it?' he wondered. As soon as he had gotten to his room, he had lay down on his bed and quickly fallen asleep.
Draco ran a hand through his hair, letting out an aggravated growl. Storming across the dark wooden floors, he pulled open the door to reveal… nothing.
A small voice squeaked up from the floor, and Draco looked down to see a pathetic looking house-elf wringing its hands. Draco leaned his hands against the door and glared down at the house-elf, before raising his eyebrows impatiently as if to say, "Well?"
"… Um… young m-m-master Malfoy is requested for dinner."
Draco straightened up and nodded to himself. 'So it's dinnertime then. Better get dressed.' Draco quickly turned back into his room and slammed the door shut, hitting the feeble house-elf in the face and sending it head over heels.
When Draco reached the dining hall, he found his father and mother waiting for him already, occasionally taking sips from goblets of wine.
"Ah, Draco darling," said his mother, as he took a seat at the table. "You look well rested."
Draco merely nodded; he wasn't really in the mood to talk. Just as Draco had sat down, a small bowl filled with what looked like Creme de Chou-Fleur Iseult à la Bretagne soup appeared in front of him. Before Draco could reach for his spoon though, his father cleared his throat, which meant he wanted everyone's attention. Narcissa placed her spoon back down on the table and Draco sat waiting to hear what his father had to say.
"A few weeks ago, Draco, I wrote you a letter, telling you I had something important to tell you," said his father, bringing his hands together and propping his chin on them.
Draco noticed his mother look away uncomfortably, and she started to fidget with the sleeves of her robes.
"Yes, I recall you saying that," replied Draco.
"Well, with… certain events that have taken place during the past year, I have decided that perhaps now is a good time for change."
Of course, his father could only be referring to Voldemort's return. Draco's eyes narrowed questioningly.
"What exactly do you mean by change?"
His father crossed his arms, resting them on top of the table, and looked straight at Draco. "At the beginning of the next school year, you will no longer be attending Hogwarts."
His father gave him a small smile. "Because you will be transferring to Durmstrang."