Heart of Ice

             The creature formerly known as Tom Riddle bared his teeth in an imitation of a smile at the man quaking before him. It had always amused Voldemort how Wormtail was so afraid of him. Of course, if he'd shown anything but fear, he would probably be dead.

           "What does Master require of me?" Wormtail asked, pathetically kissing the hem of his Lord's robes. Voldemort raised an eyebrow, and clucked his tongue.

           "Ever the eager servant, eh, Wormtail?" It wasn't a question. There was an awkward silence, and Voldemort mused that he could hear his servant's heart racing with fear. With all the power he had recently acquired, this was by no means a ridiculous notion. "The young Malfoy got away from me, Wormtail." Wormtail glanced up uncertainly, unsure of how to respond to this.

           "He-, he will pay later, my Lord," he started. Seeing his Master's mouth twitch into a grin, he bravely added, "We will make sure of that."

           Ah, pitiful Pettigrew. He must learn not to make assumptions. Even if they are correct. Voldemort quirked his head to the side, much as a snake would do, and hissed, "Crucio!" Wormtail's pitiful wails echoed off the dungeon walls with enough pain to make even the strongest individual flinch. After watching the man's twitching form disinterestedly for half a minute, Voldemort broke the spell. "You know what they say, Wormtail. 'When you assume...'," Voldemort's red eyes flashed with amusement. "But, let us discuss more pressing matters, hmm? I have not yet decided what to do with our young Mister Malfoy. Although after the little show he put on at his initation, he should be dead already," he mused. "You do recall what she saw?"

           Wormtail dragged himself to his feet, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, my Lord."

           "Bring me my pensieve. I will watch once more before I make my decision." Wormtail continued nodding dumbly, obviously still suffering the after-affects of the Cruciatus curse. Voldemort followed his movement, a small smirk on his lips, as he rummaged through a large trunk and returned with the pensieve. Voldemort searched it's silvery surface for the image he was looking for. When he found her, he went inside...

            Voldemort stopped to survey his surroundings. He was in a dungeon. One of the Malfoy dungeons, in fact. The cold stone walls were covered in various instruments of torture, still matted with the blood and flesh of their last victims. The entire room reeked of death. The sound of approaching footsteps told him that the memory was about to begin. He leaned against the wall, and observed two burly men in dark black cloaks dragging a woman's struggling form behind them. Voldemort watched as he, as he had been a year ago, strolled into the room. I look terrible, he thought to himself with disgust. I've improved. Thank the Lord... A small cackle escaped his lips. Thank the Lord...I guess that would mean 'Thank ME.'

           "No, no, no, nononononNONONONONO!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The woman, now hanging by her wrists on the wall, was screaming hysterically. Her usually silky blonde hair was caked with blood and filth. She wore a light blue satin dress that would not have been out of place in a palace, were it not for its tattered condition. The memory Voldemort approached her lazily.

           "If you just tell us, we will let you go," he whispered in her ear. The woman visibly stiffened at the near contact, and lifted her aristocratic chin haughtily.

           "I. Will. NOT," she spat. Voldemort chuckled as one would at a stubborn child.

           "Very well then, my dear. I have recently come across a very convenient spell for stubborn Seers such as yourself..." The woman let out a frightened sob. "Ah...perhaps you've heard of it, then?" More sobs. "I see, I see. If you don't want to lose what is left of your mind, my dear girl, then you will TELL ME WHAT YOU SAW!!"

           The present Voldemort shook his head, watching how angry his past self was becoming with the stubborn woman. All of a sudden, the room began to swirl, and change.

           Now they were in a small cell, once again in the dungeons. The woman was sprawled across an old cot, unconscious. Her silvery hair was visibly cleaner than before, although the tattered dress remained. His memory self was standing beside her, shooing everyone but Wormtail out of the room. Once they were gone, he raised his wand and pointed it into her temple, eliciting a moan of discomfort.

           "WAIT! My Lord!" The Voldemorts turned and let out identical chuckles. Lucius Malfoy was standing at the door, noticeably paler than usual. "My Lord," he said more calmly, as he bowed on one knee, "Is this necessary?"

           The memory Dark Lord sneered with disgust at his follower's weakness. "Crucio!" Lucius crumpled to the floor, but refrained from making any noise. The Malfoys were strong people, Voldemort knew, and the strength had little to do with their fortune. This was an example of that strength. As the spell was released, Lucius brought himself to his feet, looked at the woman once more, and nodded.

           "I apologize for my weakness, my Lord," he said, his voice betraying no emotion, and shaking only slightly from the pain he'd just received.

           "Leave us, Lucius," he snarled in response. The handsome man did as he was told, shutting the door behind him. Voldemort turned his attention back to the woman who still had his wand pressed into her temple. "Revalios priorante visios!" he shouted clearly.

           The woman screamed, and began convulsing instantly. "No, no, noooo..." she moaned., tears streaming down her face. After nearly a minute of this, her eyes shot open, showing only the whites. She began to speak in a deadpan voice, "If the Dragon stays shrouded in dark the sun will cease to rise. If the Dragon bathes in light the darkness disappears." The memory Voldemort waited eagerly for more, but nothing came.

           "Come on, you foolish woman! What else?! What did you refuse to tell us?!"

"IF THE DRAGON STAYS SHROUDED IN DARK THE SUN WILL CEASE TO RISE. IF THE DRAGON BATHES IN LIGHT THE DARKNESS DISAPPEARS! IFTHEDRAGONSTAYSSHROUDEDINEDARK--"

           "Master, stop her!" Wormtail called from the corner of the room, where he sat with his hands over his ears.

           "Finite Incantatum!" Voldemort hissed. The woman let out a whimper, then lost consciousness. "We broke her mind for THAT!?" Voldemort yelled. Wormtail winced, knowing that when his Master was angry, someone got hurt. Usually, him. Suddenly, he got an idea, (a rare occurence).

           "M-Master? The Dragon is, is the boy, perhaps? Her boy?" he suggested tentatively. Voldemort stopped just as he was about to Avada Kedavra the woman.

           "Why, Wormtail...I do believe you are right. It makes perfect sense, surprisingly." Voldemort thought for a moment. "Never repeat what you saw here today, Wormtail. Do not tell Lucius. I will have him put our dear Seer somehere where she can be taken care of...and is no longer a nuisance. In the meantime, let us check on our 'Dragon', hmm?"

           The world began to ripple as the memory ended...

             ... and Voldemort found himself back in the present. Remembering how the boy had been at his initiation, he sighed. The odds of keeping him on the Dark side were slim, it seemed, considering his stubbornness. He broke out of the imperius curse. MY imperius curse! Voldemort turned to his silver armed companion.

           "Wormtail? We are going to have to kill Draco Malfoy... Dumbledore or no Dumbledore." And with that, he left the room, cloak swirling behind him.

* * *

           Narcissa Malfoy awoke with a start, sweat and tears streaming down her face. Her attempts to sit up were hampered by the thick dragon-hide straps containing her in crisp, white sheets. Her mind was reeling, and as usual she couldn't seem to form a coherant idea. Voldemort will kill Draco... The thought cut through the confusion that was her mind like a knife. Suddenly, the fog cleared, and she remembered her son being born, learning to speak...being tortured.

           "Don't hurt him Lucius, he's a child," she mumbled to herself. She had always tried to protect her son, mentally and physically. Narcissa Malfoy was not an affectionate woman, but she tried to let her son know she cared, even if she couldn't really say it. She knew deep down he cared about her, even if he didn't realize it. She smiled to herself as images of his striking grey eyes, handsome features and silvery hair flashed before her. "Draco, Draco...my Draco is so handsome. My Draco is so strong," she murmered in a sing-song voice. A nagging feeling came into her head. "Wrong, though, something, something, something..."

           Cursing her inability to sift through her thoughts, the one she was searching for came once again. Voldemort will kill Draco... Yes. She'd just seen his conversation with Wormtail. "AAAAAAAh!" she screamed, panicked. "HELP! HELP MY DRACO! DRACO DRACO DRACODRACO--" A nurse, in a uniform as crisp and white as the sheets, ran to her side, wand drawn. She put her cool hand on Narcissa's fevered head and murmered,

           "Tranquilio." A flash of soft blue light enveloped her. "Sleep, Miss Malfoy. Your son is fine..."

           Except he wasn't fine. And somehow Narcissa knew it. Wake his power tomorrow...she told herself firmly. You MUST remember to visit him tomorrow. Now, sleep...

Narcissa Malfoy then drifted into sleep haunted by grey and red eyes.

                                                              * * *

             "Ahem!" Dumbledore cleared his throat. The Hall immediately fell into silence. "Thankyou. Well, I do believe you all best be off to your dorms, now. The house-elves have already kindly taken care of your belongings. You are all dismissed. Oh, and may I please see the Head Boy and Girl for a moment? Thankyou." Draco cringed inwardly. Just what he needed: his first meeting with Granger.

           "Er, bye Draco," mumbled Crabbe. Draco turned to him and Goyle.

           "Just go to the Common Room, alright?" he instructed slowly, as if to make sure they understood. They nodded. "And don't eat any more of those bloody Weasley Twins' Canary Creams...I've seen enough plumage from you two oafs to last me a lifetime. In fact, don't eat anything associated with them, alright?" After making sure his body guards, (or former body guards, as he was fully capable of taking care of himself now), knew what they were doing, Draco sighed and made his way up to the Head Table. Granger was halfway there, and saying something to Potty and Weasel, who were eyeing Draco with more than a little mistrust. Well, that means they don't know what happened this summer. If they did, they'd be laughing, I'm sure. He paused his thoughts. Why on Earth hasn't Granger told them yet? He shrugged this off and began preparing himself for the verbal onslaught which was sure to commence.

           "If you harm her in any way this year Malfoy, I'll kill you," Weasley spat venomously. Draco smiled inwardly at how easy it was to anger the other boy. He hadn't even said anything yet and his face was already bright crimson. Potter was standing beside him, presumably to make sure he didn't lose his temper completely, but saying nothing.

           "Well, well, well. If it isn't 'The Boy Who Lived To Wallow In His Own Self Pity', and his sidekick, 'The..." Draco paused thoughtfully. "No, now that I think about it, the sidekick doesn't have a title. He can't afford one."

           "You fu--" The Weasel drew his wand.

           "Ron! Stop it!" Hermione grabbed his hand just as he was preparing to throw a curse at Draco. "Ron, he's Head Boy. Think of the trouble that could get you in," she said calmly. Ron looked at her, and nodded grudgingly. Draco noticed with no small amount of amusement that Granger's hair was as bushy as ever, and she still dressed like a monk in comparison to girls like Lavender Brown.

           "Granger," Draco said by way of greeting, catching her eyes with his own. She seemed to contemplate him for a moment, to see if he was serious. Finally, she replied.

           "Malfoy." Draco nodded, then paused. He has been about to leave it at that, but he reminded himself that he needed to put her in her place, after she displayed those annoying Gryffindor heroics during the summer. The last thing he needed was for her to think she had one up on him.

           "You know, if knowing the answer to everything is all it takes to be Head Girl nowadays they could have hired an encyclopedia." Draco drawled as Hermione's mouth turned down in a scowl.

           "Oh, sod off, Malfoy! If we wanted to replace the Head positions, what would we make Head Boy? A tray? Because you're terribly shallow."

           "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a magnet, because people can't resist me," he said with a smirk. Granger rolled her eyes.

           "Magnets don't attract people, you fool," she snapped.

           "And nothing replaces a Malfoy, you idiot," he mocked. "Now, I'd love to stay and chat," he said sarcastically, "but I have places to be." He thought he heard her mumble 'I have to be at the same place, git' but he ignored it, and proceeded to where Dumbledore was waiting for them. As Draco approached, he smiled broadly.

           "Hello again, Mister Malfoy!" Draco kept his face stoic.

           "Sir."

           "I trust you are having no difficulties with your House?" he asked softly. Draco sneered.

           "Those fools wouldn't dare confront me. And, if they did, they'd soon regret it." Dumbledore nodded his understanding, eyes twinkling relentlessly.

           "I see. Well then, let me know if....Miss Granger!" Draco heard Granger walk up so that she was beside him, but didn't give off any sign that he noticed. Maybe if I ignore and insult her for the rest of they year, she'll take the hint and never mention what happened this summer, he thought sarcastically to himself. The idea was laughable. After being her enemy for 7 years, Draco knew that if Granger was determined to figure something out, she would.

           "What do you find to be so amusing, Mister Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, obviously fighting a grin. Draco blinked as he realized he'd let a small chuckle escape his lips.

           "Nothing that would interest you," he replied irritably. Draco didn't like making a fool of himself. Of course, he didn't really care what people thought of him either.

           "Ah. Well, then. If you two will kindly follow me, I'll show you to your new rooms, and we can briefly discuss what is required of you this year."

A minute or so earlier....

           "Harry, Ron, I'll be fine! There's nothing Malfoy can do that will get to me, and I highly doubt the Head Boy would dare to hex the Head Girl, even if he is a Malfoy."

           "I don't care what you say, 'Mione," Ron grumbled. "That slimey git will do anything as long as it's evil. And he's too stupid to realize he shouldn't hex you. I don't know how he ever made Head Boy." Hermione rolled her eyes.

           "Ron, stop it. You sound jealous. Malfoy's marks are always just below mine. Also, Dumbledore would never have made him Head Boy if he didn't trust him." Ron continued to grumble. "Harry? Help me out here?" Hermione pleaded. Harry shrugged.

           "I agree with Ron, 'Mione. Malfoy's dangerous. In second year he said he wanted the basilisk to kill you! You know how much he hates Muggleborns. It must be driving him mad that you made Head Girl." Hermione sighed, as Ron growled.

           "If you harm her in any way this year Malfoy, I'll kill you." Oh, Great... Hermione shifted her gaze to Malfoy, who had just approached. He was regarding Ron as a King would a Peasant, but she could have sworn she saw his lips fight a grin.

           "Well, well, well. If it isn't 'The Boy Who Lived To Wallow In His Own Self Pity', and his sidekick, 'The...' No, now that I think about it, the sidekick doesn't have a title. He can't afford one."

           "You fu--" Hermione jumped as Ron lunged for his wand. It was amazing the ability Draco had to get under people’s skin. Now Ron was going to get himself in trouble over nothing!

           "Ron! Stop it!" She grabbed his hand just in time to stop him from hexing Draco. "Ron, he's Head Boy. Think of the trouble that could get you in." Honestly, how could he be so stupid? Suddenly, Draco caught her eyes with his, their icey depths chilling her to the bone. God, there's nothing there. How can somebody's eyes tell you nothing about what they're thinking?

           "Granger," Draco said. Hermione watched him, confused. Was that a greeting? Isn't he going to insult me?

           "Malfoy," she replied cautiously. Draco seemed to give a slight nod as he contemplated something. Then, he spoke.

           "You know, if knowing the answer to everything is all it takes to be Head Girl nowadays they could have hired an encyclopedia." Hermione felt like sighing. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to leave her alone just because she saved his life or anything.

           "Oh, sod off, Malfoy! If we wanted to replace the Head positions, what would we make you? A tray? Because you're terribly shallow." As soon as the words left her lips Hermione realized how stupid she sounded.

           "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a magnet, because people can't resist me," he said with a smirk.

           "Magnets don't attract people, you fool," she snapped.

           "And nothing replaces a Malfoy, you idiot," he mocked harshly. "Now, I'd love to stay and chat, but I have places to be." Hermione rolled her eyes as he walked away.

           "I have to be at the same place, git," she mumbled to herself, knowing he couldn't hear her anyways. She turned to the fuming Ron and Harry. "See? Same petty insults as always. Nothing I can't handle. Okay? I'm going now, I can't leave Dumbledore waiting."

           "If you're sure, 'Mione, but," Harry frowned. "Something isn't right with Malfoy this year. He seems sort of...I don't know. He's up to something. Something just isn't right. Be careful, alright?" Hermione smiled.

           "I'm always careful," she joked.

           "Of course," Ron smiled, "Hermione does everything right, eh Harry? How could we forget?" For some reason this infuriated Hermione. There they went again, thinking she was infallible. She forced another grin on her face.

           "See you guys later," she said as she turned and jogged up to where Dumbledore and Malfoy were standing.

           "Miss Granger!" Dumbledore said enthusiastically. She glanced over at Draco, who was taring off into space with a bored expression on his handsome face.

           "Hello Professor! How was your su--" Suddenly, a mirthless chuckle came from Draco, who Hermione saw was still staring off at nothing.

           "What do you find so amusing, Mister Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked, obvisouly trying not to laugh. Draco jerked his attention back towards the Headmaster, showing no signs of embarassment or surprise.

           "Nothing that would interest you." Hermione could scarcely believe how disrespectful the ferret was being. Why on Earth did Dumbledore put up with it?

           "Ah. Well, then. If you two will kindly follow me, I'll show you to your new rooms, and we can briefly discuss what is required of you this year."

           Dumbledore led them silently through the castle, up to the 4th floor, until they came to a painting of two men and two women sitting at a table. "Here we are!" he said happily. Hermione leaned in to inspect the painting. They looked so familiar...

           "Hello Professors," Draco said after a pause. Hermione glanced at him quizzically.

           "Professors?" she asked, annoyed that he knew something she didn't. He shifted his gaze to her.

           "For somebody who's supposed to be smart you certainly can be quite dull. They're obviously the founders."

           "Quite right, Mister Malfoy! 5 points to Slytherin for your quick thinking," Dumbledore cried. Hermione had the sudden urge to wipe Draco's smirk off his face.

           "Now, now dear. Don't worry, I'm sure you'd have figured it out in a moment," a woman with long, straight brown hair soothed. "I can tell you're smart. Are you a Ravenclaw?"

           "No, Gryffindor," she said quickly, nervous to be speaking to the beautiful woman who was obviously Rowena Ravenclaw. This elicited a triumphant 'Aha!' from a red headed man, who Hermione took to be Godric Gryffindor.

           "What about you, my handsome young man?" asked a rather stout, red haired woman with many freckles. Draco grinned at the compliment.

           "Draco Malfoy, Professor Hufflepuff, and I'm a Slytherin," he replied smoothly. Ugh, there he goes making the Founders think he's God's greatest creation.

           "Ah, excellent!" said a handsome black haired man with bright blue eyes. Hermione blinked. A handsome, clean shaven man...?

           "You are Salazar Slytherin?!" Hermione asked bluntly. Everyone looked at her, amused. She felt her face begin to heat up. "I'm sorry if I seem rude, but I've seen statues and paintings of you, and they really bare no resemblance at all."

           "What Granger here is trying to say is that you look much better than your 'likenesses'. Why?" Draco asked curiously, then he added with a smirk, "It's good to see that us Slytherin men have always been this good looking, though." Ha! Tell that to Crabbe and Goyle! Hermione thought wickedly. Slytherin chuckled.

           "Those pictures and sculptures aren't really of me. They're of a friend of mine."

           "Sir? Why would you do that?" Draco asked bewilderedly.

           "I owed him a favor." Draco seemed to accept this, much to Hermione's surprise.

           "Ahem, I don't mean to interrupt, but perhaps you two should get settled in?" Gryffindor asked politely.

           "Right you are, Lord Gryffindor! Now then, Draco, Hermione. What do you want your password to be?" Dumbledore asked. Draco looked at Hermione, and shrugged, finally hacing nothing to say for once. "Well, what do you have in common?" he prodded. The looks on their faces must have been something else, Hermione thought, because the four founders burst into fits of laughter.

           "Oh, dear. This will certainly be an interesting entrance to guard this year!" Helga Hufflepuff giggled. Draco scowled at her.

           "It's not our fault we have nothing in common," he snapped. Slytherin raised an eyebrow.

           "He's definitely one of yours, Salazar," Rowena laughed. Slytherin smiled at her and kissed her hand.

           "And you like him already," he teased. Oh, GOD! Slytherin and Ravenclaw, are.... there's no way! I don't want to see anymore of this. Think, Hermione, think! What do we have in common?!

           "Hogwarts!" she shouted, just as Draco did.

             Dumbledore watched with ill disguised amusment as Draco and Hermione exchanged startled and disgusted looks. Draco quickly recovered, adding,

           "The only thing we have in common is that we both go to Hogwarts." For one mischievous moment, Dumbledore considered suggesting that they obviously thought alike, but he quickly reconsidered as he pondered their reactions to such a statement.

           "Well, then. Hogwarts it is," Rowena said, winking at Dumbledore. She obviously noticed their similarities as well. As Headmaster, he probably should have reprimanded Draco for his rudeness many times already this year, but only a fool would expect Draco Malfoy to behave any differently. Dumbledore was many things, but a fool was not one of them. If Lucius Malfoy's son can survive his up-bringing and still resist the Dark Lord, I'm willing to at least allow him some bitterness, Dumbledore thought dryly. We can work on manners later. The painting opened, bringing him from his thoughts, and the three entered...

                                                                   * * *