Hunted

J.K Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsberry books, Scholastic books, Raincoast books and Warner Brothers Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

As I gaze round at my former home of nearly sixteen years, I feel a disassociation from it.

Though it’s always had a foreboding air, thanks to a charm placed by Lucius to frighten away strangers, it now looks haunted in it’s newfound vacancy.

Naive child that I was, I believed all that would come of my betrayal would be sunshine and light. Oh, and maybe a plaque.

In my mind, Mother and I would live happily ever after, spending Lucius’s money on personalizing the manor.

That is, until reality leaked it’s poison into my veins.

Mother’s blind devotion to the man who stole her spirit has remained with her. And on the flip side of her adoration is a loathing for the boy who fought back.

I could deal with the loss of everything else, if I could only have her forgiveness.

As all of Lucius’s connections were either Death Eaters or in some way affiliated with Voldemort, Lucius’s ruin is ours as well, since all money has stopped coming in.

The entirety of the family’s income is locked within Lucius’s vault. The same vault he has made sure no one but he is able to access.

Further means of his to own us.

The one (and only) way Mother and I will have enough money survive on, is by selling the manor and it’s effects therein.

Death Eater dissenter that I am, the lives of my mother and I will be in danger from now on.

Thus Dumbledore has proposed that we go into his equivalent of the Witness Protection programme; Hogwarts.

I agreed to it, because there is really no other option for us.

The remainder of my fifth year, and the beginning of my new life, will be spent sharing a private chamber with the woman who cannot even stand my sight.

To complicate matters further, my fellow Slytherins now have a vendetta against me.

Crabbe and Goyle, along with various Slytherin parents, sit in Azkaban because of me.

Needless to say, my former housemates have been less than grateful.

After my fourth trip to Madame Pomfrey within a seven day span, Dumbledore decreed from that moment on, I’d correlate only with Gryffindors for my own safety.

Therefore I left those who detest me, only to join those who pity me. In true Malfoy and Slytherin fashion, I’ve upheld my bravado, despite the futility in it.

In the sea of empathy the Gryffindors threaten to drown me in, admiration appears like oil, separate yet thrust into the mix.

It’s not only the Gryffindor’s admiration I’ve earned. In fact, all but Slytherin view me as a hero. I’ve finally usurped Harry Potter in my fame.

It is now me they stare at, me they whisper about.

In the beginning of my Hogwarts days, esteem was all I desired. Though, as I wasn’t The Boy Who Lived, I had to push and shove my way up the ladder.

Which was fine, I liked things that way. It was rather nice knowing all you had acquired you’d built from the ground up.

Now that I’ve had fame thrust upon me, my hunger has dissipated, and Harry can have his pedestal back whenever he wishes.

Speaking of Harry (and yes I have begun calling him by his first name), we get on fairly well now.

We aren’t exactly friends, what with him still being the bleeding heart heroine, and I the proud, yet slightly less antagonistic git I’ve always been.

Nevertheless, we’ve reached an acceptance of one another’s faults, and agreed to disagree. To be honest, Harry is far easier to speak with than Goyle and Crabbe.

Those two were too dense to understand me most of the time, and even if they did, they generally responded solely with animalistic grunts.

Harry, on the other hand, is quite bright and engaging to speak with. Or banter with, which is most often the case.

Change; to cause it, one must be prepared for the pendulum to swing back towards one after the fact. For every action, there is a positive or negative reaction.

That is the law in the black and white world of scientific fact. But in the real world, it’s bullshit.

For every action, there is a positive AND negative reaction. And those reactions will shape and define you.