Here's some more......

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Chapter Six

Monday morning and Draco awoke. He dressed and left before the others. He sat at the Slytherin tables and ate in silence; he nodded at Nott, Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson, but didn’t engage them in conversation.

He spotted movement in the corner of his eye. McGonagall stood there. She reached into her pocket and drew out his wand. The other Slytherin’s and the neighbouring Gryffindor’s watched. “As Promised Mr Malfoy, I am returning your wand.”

Draco took his wand without a word and put it safely in his robes. Eyes glared at him from all directions. He felt his pale cheek flushing pink and tried to suppress the mounting embarrassment and anger he felt. He stood and strode out of the great hall and off to the boy’s bathroom. He looked around, he was alone. He dumped his bag on the floor and ran the tap; he threw water over his face. He quivered and shook. The anger and frustration overwhelming him, he fought the tears, as before but they came easily to his eyes.

“Oh hello, didn’t think I’d see you again” came a familiar voice. He turned wiping tears from his aching eyes. There looking down at him with her large eyes was Moaning Myrtle. He looked up at her.

“Really?” He said through his tear sodden eyes. Myrtle glided over and looked up at him.

“Oh yes, I heard what you did!” she said, her voice full of sorrow.

“And what was that exactly?” he sneered at the ghost. His anger rising again.

“You let killers into the school. The headmaster was murdered and it’s all your fault!” she said gleefully. “You can kill yourself now and stay here with me.”

Draco started and backed away from her. He thought briefly about the year before. In his despair he had thought about throwing himself from the Astronomy tower. His love for his family had stopped him in the end. “Leave me alone.” He drew his wand.

“Oh. Are you going to kill me?” she laughed.

Draco looked up at the ghost, shaking he slid to the floor. He wrapped his head in his hands and raised his knees to his chest. The tears already at his eyes leapt forth, the misery of the last few weeks consumed him. His body shook with silent tears – at last letting the anger, frustration and pain out. He howled in frustration and anger at himself.

Draco left the bathroom a long while later. He had dried his eyes and threw water on his face. He looked in the mirror and was satisfied that anyone looking at him couldn’t tell he’d been crying he trudged off to his first lesson.

The corridors were almost deserted; few stragglers lurked or rushed onto their lessons. He looked at his watch, realising that he was almost ten minutes late for Transfiguration. He swore and sped up to a run. Only that morning the common room notice board had got a new notice pinned to it. They had gathered to read it – Snape had given the go ahead for Transfiguration to be used as a punishment.

After what had felt like an age he had reached the transfiguration corridor. He skidded to a stop outside of the door panting heavily. Hot from the sprint he tore off his school robe and jumper and stuffed them in his bag. He began to roll up his shirtsleeves and stopped – for a moment he had forgotten. He rolled his left sleeve back down, he paused for another few moments to catch his breath and he knocked and then pushed the door open. Professor McGonagall smiled as he entered the room. All eyes in the class on him. He swallowed. He stopped - a bad feeling falling over him.

"Mr Malfoy, thank you for gracing us with your presence." She said. “I have just been explaining to the class that in this lesson we will be learning more about human transfiguration."

Draco looked on at the professor as he walked into the classroom. He dropped his bag to the floor next to his desk and sat down. McGonagall was watching him the whole time. She smiled and looked down her hooked nose at him, "I have already told the class that any late comers will be the first to help me with the demonstration." She said in a jovial manner as she raised her wand.

Draco was reaching into his bag for his parchments and quill. The professors words ringing in his ears – he stopped and looked up at her.

“Come here Mr Malfoy." She told him. He gulped and rose slowly from his chair.

He had expected this and did as he was bidden. He looked briefly at Crabbe and Goyle who made no attempt to help him. Excited murmurs and laugher rang out as he walked to the front of the class. He stood there and folded his arms; he looked down at a piece of fluff on his sleeve. He was aware of the eyes of the whole class on him – he didn’t look up but instead picked the fluff off his sleeve and dropped it to the floor.

McGonagall addressed the class. “Now, human transfiguration is very difficult to master.” she was saying. Draco’s face burned with a mixture of anger and fear. The professor pointed her wand at him. “Of course turning someone into an animal is one of the easier…” she turned and said the enchantment. There was a flash of light and he felt like he was being squeezed and pulled. The room whirled around him.

He shook, confused not knowing where he was for a moment. He stood on the floor looking up at the class, high above him. They were laughing. He tried to run but an invisible force took hold of him and lifted him into the air. Someone grasped his neck and he struggled against the grip.

McGonagall was talking. Draco struggled on, looking out at the class in fear. They laughed and pointed. He screamed to be let go but his voice only came out as a loud squeal. Then he was dropped, landing heavily in a cage. The cage door shut trapping him inside. He scrambled at the bars, his small, clawed, furry white feet frantic.

Laughter broke out again in the class. Draco climbed the bars and tried to chew through them. The bars did not yield. Frantic and scared he climbed back down the bars; scared he curled up into a ball. He watched the rest of the lesson from his vantage point on McGonagall’s desk – now forgotten.

After what had seemed like an age the professor freed him in front of the class who laughed. Even Crabbe and Goyle. Draco clambered to his feet looking around, getting his bearings. "You’ll pay for this,” he shouted at her, embarrassment and humiliation clawing at his chest. He ran, grabbed his bag and tore out of the class and off into the crowded corridor.

He didn’t stop running until he was far away down the corridor. He finally stopped and stood panting. His heart thudded and blood rushed through his ears.

He looked around him, where was he? He smiled with recognition – the 7th floor corridor. He reached for his wand and scanned up and down the corridor – it was deserted. He walked slowly to the wall where the door to the room of requirement opened and closed his eyes. He opened his eyes; a pair of large oak doors appeared before him. He grinned, and entered the room.

He hid in the room for what must have been hours. The embarrassment of what had happened consumed him – he flushed with embarrassment but then the anger rose up again. He picked up the nearest object, an old broken broom and began to smash it into the objects around him. It felt good releasing his anger, he turned and saw his reflection in a mirror. He turned towards it and swung the broom handle at it. The glass smashed and crashed to the floor.

Draco threw the broom handle away, he did feel better now – he stalked off back towards the oak doors and out into the corridor.

…………………..

It was only days from the Christmas holidays and Draco had thought long and hard about going home. He missed his parents greatly and had worried about them each day. But, then he remembered who was using their home as death eater headquarters. Blaize and his cohorts were staying, as were most of the Gryffindor’s. Safer here than out there? But would he be safer at home, would the Dark Lord want him to torture and maim for him again? But would the Gryffindor’s try and kill him in revenge for Dumbledore’s death? Draco’s brain ached.

The decision was taken out of his hands the following morning. His mother wrote to tell him to come home.

In the entrance hall he waited with his bags and eagle owl – he would normally let the owl fly home – but he was injured. The owl had been attacked in the owlery – his feathers stuck out at angles, had been broken. Professor Grubbly-Plank had finally repaired the bird’s wing – but the owl was still too weak to fly back to the Manor house.

There were few others who were going home for the holidays. He heard hurried footsteps behind him. Professor Snape descended the staircase in his travelling clothes. He stopped at bottom of the stairs and stood at Draco’s side. “Evening Draco.”

“Evening professor.” he replied simply.

Snape walked on. “I expect to see you on the train Draco.”


The Hogwarts express bellowed smoke as Draco climbed aboard. There were fewer carriages than usual, perhaps more staying in the safety of Hogwarts than ever before.

Many of the carriages were already full. He crept down the train looking for an empty stall. He opened the door on one stall and came face to face with Snape. He backed out. “Draco, come here.” Snape said. Draco stopped and walked into the stall – the door behind him closed with a bang. Startled Draco turned to the door. “Sit down Mr Malfoy. “ he drawled. Draco turned to Snape and sat.

“How was your detention with the Carrows?” Snape said a dark smile forming at his lips.

Draco looked up to him. Whilst hidden in the room of requirement he had missed Alecto Carrow’s Muggle Studies class, she had given him detention. He shuddered. Death eater or not they had used the Crucio curse on him.

The Dark Lord had tortured him, he had known what to expect. But nothing had prepared him for the two boys they had brought in to continue the torture. Crabbe and Goyle had looked down at him laughing before launching the curse at him.

By the end of over an hour he had laid on the floor, curled into a ball, panting heavily, tear-streaked eyes glaring at them all. Hatred and anger burning, he was sure that at that moment he could have easily killed them all – if only he had his wand.


“It was nothing, I have been tortured by the Dark Lord.” Draco said evenly. Trying to keep his voice from breaking at the memory – still vivid.

“Draco, the Dark Lord was merely playing with you. As a cat does with a mouse.” Snape told him. “If he wanted to he could have you begging him to let you kill your mother – only if he was to stop.”

Draco looked up at him. It was now or never. “What did Greyback mean when he said my father didn’t have the stomach for it, either?” he asked him finally.

Snape looked up at him.

Suddenly embarrassed, feeling like that little Slytherin first year, walking into the Great Hall for the first time, overwhelmed, confused, scared but trusting - knowing nothing, trusting his up bringing, faithful to his father’s ideals, sure that a pureblood was superior to all others. But was he really the man he thought he was?

“What was the ‘it’ he didn’t have the stomach for?” he asked.

Snape looked at Draco, his face softened. “Your father ran straight to the ministry when the Dark Lord fell. He convinced them that he was under the imperious curse.”

“I already know all that!” Draco told him, ill-disguised venom in his voice.

“Lucius, enjoyed torturing muggles, being in a gang but when the Dark Lord started to ask more of him – he wanted out.” Snape told him. “Potter did him a favour.”

Draco looked away from Snape; he absently spun the house ring around his finger. They sat there in silence for the rest of the journey to London. Draco wanted nothing more than the journey to be over, so he could be away from Snape. He imagined his room, his safe sanctuary from the mess he had got himself into.

Draco hid behind his Advanced Transfiguration book – he had read the chapter on conjuration over and over again. He enjoyed his subject, not that his fellow students could cast these spells. Oh no.

Draco had sat back on his chair during the first of McGonagall’s conjuring lessons, he had yawned and easily conjured a python, the snake wrapped itself happily over Draco’s’ shoulders and he sat stroking it and talking to it through out the lesson – whilst the others continued to struggle to conjure more than a quill.

McGonagall had looked over to him. She couldn’t dock him points for a successful conjuration – he had after all produced a perfectly good snake back in his second year. That snake had tried to attack the Finch-Finchly boy, but only after Potter had spoke Parsel-tougue at it. The whole school had assumed that Potter was the heir of Slytherin. Rubbish of course – the real heir was the Dark Lord. And he wanted the school back.
………………….

The train arrived in London just after midnight. Two figures waited for Draco in the darkness. He took his bag from the rack above his head and headed towards the exit. He stepped out onto the platform towards his mother and father – she looked tired and his father dishevelled and unshaven. His mother held out her arms to him. Tempted to submit to her hug he reminded himself who else was on the train. Instead he walked off towards the exit from platform nine and three quarters, his mother and father trotting after him to keep up.

They walked with him out of the station. He remained silent until they had reached the alley behind the station. Here his mother and father stopped and turned to him. “Draco, what is it?” his mother asked him cautiously.

Draco ignored her. “Let’s get this over and done with shall we?” he said drawing his wand and apparating into black mist. He re-appeared outside the Manor, opened his owl’s cage, letting the bird free. He stopped for a moment watching as the bird flew of. Free, free! He envied the bird as he flew out of sight.

It was dark and several white peacocks strutted about the lawn, undisturbed by the flight of the owl and then, his mother and father who appeared at his side.

He ignored them both and strode off into the house. He walked up the staircase, down the corridor to the last door on the left. He stopped there, hesitated – looking at the faded hand written sign ‘Draco’s room – do not enter – No house elf’s.’

He smiled at the childish scrawl; written shortly after returning from his first year at Hogwarts. He pushed the door open, walked inside and dropped his bag to the floor. He walked through the darkness to his bed and threw himself onto it.