Dragon

Chapter Three

I woke early in the morning with a horrible neck cramp, and fumbled around to find my soft pillow, only to discover it was nowhere around me. I gave a moan, and rolled over to open my eyes. I nearly screamed in fright.

I was still inside the dusty quiet room, and he sun was shining dimly through the curtains, casting a greater source of light upon the terrifying place. I had fallen asleep there. If father found me, it would not be good..

I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain that was burning into my body, and raced out the door, which was still open, just a crack. The hallways were empty, but the portraits on the walls were shaking their cruel, noble heads at me. Father hated this hallway; I think the reasons are from the past.

I ambled down the stairs with help of the silver railing, past the sitting room, and into the kitchen for breakfast. I didn't quite make it. The pain got to me when I had nearly reached the large kitchen of my home. Not more than three seconds later, I was engulfed in mother's noxious embrace.

"Dragon!" She cried, sitting me up against her. If I had been slightly more conscious of my surroundings, I would have noticed a large bruise of mother's face, as her eyes looked at me with concern. "Dragon, dear, what happened?" She gave me a hard shake to return me to consciousness.

"Father." I muttered, trying to pull away from her. Mother splashed me with some cold water that had to have been magically enhanced, as I jumped quickly, and was suddenly awake and alert. "Last night."

Mother sighed, and let me free. "Happy birthday, Dragon," she said as happily as possible, turning away. I strongly suspected she was fighting tears when I hoisted myself to my feet. "Clean yourself up." She said in a choked voice. "Your birthday party will be a three o' clock! You can't miss that!"

I wasn't able to suffice a grin, despite my previous night of terror. My birthday parties were always full of surprises, depending on who decided to grace me with their presence. Crabbe and Goyle were constants; they didn't do anything except e at and fight, and could prove sometimes very funny. or quite the contrary, very boring.

"I'll go get ready, mother." I told my poor mother, who seemed to be getting closer and closer to going off the deep end. She nodded, and as I slowly left the kitchen, I could hear sobbing. Maybe she was closer to the edge than I had imagined. Well, that was how all mothers must be.

My room, thankfully, was on the second floor. It was a mass of green and silver wall hangings that bore the serpent of Slytherin. There was no doubt whatsoever what house I was in. The Sorting Hat had barely touched my head when it had shouted "Slytherin!" for the whole hall to hear.

My room was large and circular, which meant my room occupied the north tower of our castle-like home. The ceiling seemed endless, and shot up to the sky above. The ceiling was glass, and the sun shone warm on my head of blonde hair, surely illuminating it, though it was nowhere near neat at the current moment.

My bed had not been occupied the night before, so it was still neat and royal. The rich mahogany bed frame was draped with a dark emerald canopy with sheer gossamer curtains that could be draped. The bed sheets were matching emerald, and were fashioned of expensive silk. It was a very tempting thing, that bed. I wanted to fall over on it and sleep forever.

But I had a party that would begin in an hour and a half. I must be presentable, or there would be consequences so serious I could not in a thousand years fathom them. I undressed myself, and avoided the mirror for good reason, and stepped into the hot bath that the house elves had prepared so graciously for me. Perhaps I would not beat them today..

I washed my wounds with the special soap, and the pain had gone down a considerable deal by the time I was fully clothed. My robes were a rich dark blue for this party, which was a difference from the black of Hogwarts uniform, or my usual emerald ones that showed Slytherin spirit.

I had to smile at my reflection. The blood had been wiped from my mouth, my white blonde hair was slicked back neatly, and I stood tall without a limp or a falter in my step. I looked just like I had before, and no longer felt pain (courtesy of Madam Marti's Painless Potion). It was a reflection that would send Pansy Parkinson into hysterics, though that did not take much.

I strutted proudly down the stairs, and the bustling in the foyer immediately ceased when I entered the room gracefully. Applause echoed off the wall, and I could hear mother crying, "Happy birthday, Dragon!" somewhere in the masses. There was a pile of presents nearby with colored wrapping paper that was drawing me over towards it. It was a happy feeling; all these people were here to celebrate the anniversary of my fifteenth year in the world.

I straightened my collar, and grinned, to take a bow. Everyone bustled even more. Now this was more like it. A "Happy Birthday Draco!" Banner hung from the ceiling, magically enhanced, and green and silver glitter fell from the vast depths of above.

"Draco!" Squealed a very familiar voice from somewhere to my left. I tried to duck down behind Crabbe and Goyle, who were approaching at a rapid pace to dodge the speaker. "Happy birthday!"

I was too slow. Before I could do anything, Pansy Parkinson, who was poised to kiss me when I managed to pull away and make a run for it, scooped me up. "Draco, I just wanted to say hello!" I heard her yell as I made my escape, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Say hello to Crabbe, you fat oaf!" I yelled back in reply, hoping dearly that this offended her. It was fairly easy to dodge in and out between members of the mass, being a small person. For Crabbe and Goyle, who followed me, it was not so easy. They simply ploughed over whoever stood in their way. It was all Crabbe and Goyle were good for, being large and threatening.

I motioned for my cronies to follow me down the hallway to the more quiet reserved part of the house, which was at current moment the sitting room. "Butterbeer?" I asked, watching the perplexed faces of Crabbe and Goyle nod in uniform. Grinning, I reached into father's liquor cabinet, I decided that Crabbe and Goyle could use a touch of something stronger than Butterbeer, if the plot that came to my mind was to succeed.

I filled their glasses half full with whiskey, and added some Butterbeer to the other half. Crabbe and Goyle's taste buds, being so used to every flavor of food in the world, would never know the difference in taste. I poured myself a mug of Butterbeer, and slumped into the couch across from the two hulking fifteen year olds that were squished together on the large emerald couch across from me.

"We shall soon join the ranks of fifth year students at Hogwarts, that blasted school," I said smugly to Crabbe and Goyle. There was nothing like idiots like these two to boost your ego. They nodded stupidly, and sipped their drinks curiously. I fought the tempting urge to laugh, and smirked at them.

"What shall bestow petty Potter this year?' I said, not quite sure why I was asking the perfect model figures of stupid ness this question. They nodded, downing their drinks without any words at all. Such friends I had for conversation. Life got very tedious with them, and I sometimes wished that even father were there to spice things up a bit.

"Dear you hear about Potter?" I asked. This sent both the eyebrows straight into the air out of curiosity, as they set empty glasses on the table. "The way he had an encounter with Voldemort this summer? Dumbledore showed up to save his arse again, go figure." I realized that I was spitting. This often happened when I got angry.

"Dragon!" Came my mother's voice. She popped her head in the sitting room, and looked quickly at the floor, then smiled at me. She was very composed right now, and the usual sneer had fixed itself on her face; this was how she was in public. "Your cousins are here to see you." She looked revolted at this. Crabbe and Goyle finally started to snigger about me being called Dragon, getting the joke a bit late.

I motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to leave me alone with my relatives when I met up with them. They were truly embarrassing; mother's relatives. Crabbe and Goyle ambled off, bumping into things as I left the room, dragged off by the Social Mother to the large parlor.

The parlor was a stylish room with a bar, comfortable white chairs, and a sleek silver and green marble floor, and three people sitting in the comfortable chairs. They were all tall, thin, blonde, and looked very bored and out of place, wearing red. Each radiated a look of hatred mixed with pleasure as I entered the room.

"Happy birthday, Dragon." Said the tall woman, Aunt Nabila, mother's half sister. She had blue eyes and blonde hair like mother did, and even though she was a Faxon; she had been put into Gryffindor. She was several years older than my Aunt Andromeda, who was my mother's full sister. Mother was a Black, but Nabila was born a Faxon, to my grandmother an her previous husband--whom she killed. That was why my father never associated with Aunt Nabila. She had been sorted into Gryffindor and was not totally pure of blood, like mother. To make matters worse, she had married a Ravenclaw man, who was called Roger Hagen. They had spawned two awful children named Fayre and Ralph, who was more commonly known as Rafe.

Fayre, who was my age, gave me a look of utter disgust; she was in Gryffindor, and was among those who worshiped Harry Potter. Her long blonde hair was well kept, and she had the look of a Malfoy, and seemed like she would be worthy of Slytherin by looks, however her personality was completely opposite mine. Fayre had a liking for animals more than people, and she picked up stray animals left and right, filling their house (which I considered more of a barn), with the ruddy creatures.

"Hello, cousin." She said to me, brandishing a silver package and thrusting it in my hands. "Happy fifteen, Dragon." She put a lot of emphasis on the word Dragon. It was all the same, as I called her "Fair Game" and would then curse her as one would a game animal. One could see the love we had for each other bouncing off the walls. That was sarcasm, by the way.

Rafe was going too begin Hogwarts that year, and everyone expected him in Ravenclaw, as he was very intelligent to their standards. Just the sight of him with his little horn-rimmed glasses was as bad as talking to a mudblood. He had made friends with a half blood already. Just another reason for the Malfoy family to forget the Hagens.

By the standards of most boys, Fayre was good looking, but I saw her as the mudblood-loving cousin that was a shame to be related to. Her blue eyes flashed as she poked the gift with her manicured finger, hinting that I should open it.

I tugged the white string, and unfolded the silver paper around the box, not knowing what to expect this year. In previous years I had gotten owl droppings, canary feathers, and some sort of candy that looked as if it had been devised by those blasted Weasley twins.

I lifted the lid, and Fayre grinned. Inside the box was a piece of paper that read, "Happy Birthday. I have a sense of humor. Maybe you should buy one of those." I picked up the piece of paper and crumpled into a ball to throw at Fayre. Beneath the paper was a pair of glasses styled to those of Harry Potter.

"Well, put them on, Dragon!" She squealed, again emphasizing Dragon in her sentence. I threw the glasses at her as I did the wad of paper, and looked to mother for help. She merely laughed with her sister, as Rafe pushed his glasses further up his nose. Fayre smiled, and to my eternal shame, danced happily. "Got you again!"

I sent to Fayre death wishes inside of my head. She always seemed to know I was thinking them, especially after I stormed out of the room with my blue robes flourishing behind me. I couldn't stand those people any longer, and didn't care if mother was shouting how rude I was or not. All I wanted to do was get away from those disgraces.

"Well, Draco!" A melodious voice filled my ears. I didn't dare turn around, but that didn't matter to the speaker. "If it isn't the birthday boy himself!" The voice sounded slightly sarcastic, bored, and cruel. Just like the person speaking.

In front of me was a beautiful girl slightly taller than I was. Her shining blonde hair was twisted up and piled high up on her head, twisted and braided into many elegant knots of the sort. Her two blue eyes were the color of the summer sky, making her look so innocent and sweet. She wore robes that matched her eyes, and were gossamer thin, with a plunging neckline. Her name was Celeste Maili, and she was one of those gorgeous creatures that was only too well aware of the effect she created upon men.

I hated her.

She was an awful sort of girl who preyed upon the male population, and decided that I should be her next target. But I hated her, and she knew that. We were both in the running for the most powerful Fifth Year Slytherin. So far, I was winning. She seemed to think that everyone would fall victim to her spells, and overrated me back in the first year.

"Well, happy birthday," she said softly, starting to walk in a circle around me. There was a smirk on her face, and I returned it with my infamous smirk, and a glare. My father was good friends with the Maili family, and therefore was enticed greatly by Celeste, the youngest daughter. Father insisted that I get along with the evil called Celeste.

"Why thank you ever so much, Celeste," I hissed. "How kind of you to put your abnormally overly perfected nose into my business to wish me a happy birthday. How kind of you to put on an act to pretend you're a real human."

Celeste smiled. "Now, now, Draco!" She said, in a tone that my father often used. "Play nicely." Her smirk had gone from ear to ear, now. She stuck her nose in the air, as if I were something as petty as a mudblood. "Well, enjoy your birthday, Dragon," She laughed, like Fayre, emphasizing Dragon. Curses to mother for that nickname.

I clenched my fists. I would get her at school, when I was far away from the ruling hand of father. Celeste gave a cheery wave, and went off, probably to find a more vulnerable subject to torture. I was left alone in the hallway now, or so I thought. No sooner than five seconds later, I was approached my Celeste's partner in crime, Kayta Petula.

Kayta was Celeste's cousin, and they resembled each other greatly. Kayta left her silvery blonde hair to fall down past her shoulders, while her blue eyes sparkled behind wire-rimmed glasses, which had quite the opposite affect Rafe's did. They made Kayta look older and more sophisticated that she actually was.

"Finally meet up with Celeste, did you now?" She asked in a greasy tone. "How cheery of you two lovebirds," she added evilly. She was just as bad as Celeste, and often hinted how we should band together, and produce a few supremely evil kids. I hated her, for that. I hated Celeste and her dratted cousin Kayta.

"Go kiss Potter," I hissed. Kayta didn't seem too enthralled by this, so she stuck her pointed nose in the air and proceeded down the hallway after Celeste. Knowing that there would be more of these battles during school, I made my way back to the foyer to inspect my table full of gifts.

There were many packages of all sorts, and I was particularly interested in was a long thin package that could only be a broomstick. I had to laugh at the memory of Potter and Company reading a similar package, and wondering what the hell it could be. sure takes brains to figure things like this out.

After determining that the broomstick was probably a Firebolt, I shook a few packages, and opened the wrapping paper. Many my gifts were from Knockturn Alley, such as the odd device that looked as if it would mummify anything that came in contact with its interior.

I was getting to the large packages when the cold voice of my father made me jump about a foot in the air. I quickly crawled forth from my concealed spot behind the table of presents addressed to myself. My father was standing in the middle of the room, encircled by the vast crowd of mostly light haired people, all standing at attention. He beckoned me forth.

I smiled smugly, pretending to love my father as any teenage boy would. Father clapped his hand on my shoulder. "Today marks the fifteenth birthday of my son Draco," he said in a loud booming voice that made sure everyone heard; it was as if he were proud to have me as his son. "And it also marks," he added, drawing his voice to a mere whisper. It didn't matter how loud he spoke; everyone could hear his next words.

"The day Lord Voldemort has shown the world his power."

The room took a deep breath, but my father silenced them again. He grinned maliciously, taking his hand off my shoulder to gesture to the room.

"There has been a mudblood killing."