Heart of Ice

           "Albus, I say the boy needs his rest!"

           "Poppy, I assure you he will be fine. The longer we put this off, the harder it will be for him."

           Draco awoke to a pounding headache and the all to familiar bright light that screamed 'Hospital Wing.' What happened this time? he thought to himself angrily. "Would you two please stop bickering. I'm awake now anyway," he mumbled as he reluctantly opened his icy eyes.

           "Good afternoon, Mister Malfoy!" Dumbledore said cheerily. "How are you feeling?" Draco narrowed his eyes at the older man's cheerful countenance.

           "I feel fine," he lied stonily. "When can I get out of here?" Madam Pomfrey began waving her wand all around his body, muttering various medi- spells. Now that he was older, there was no easier way to provoke Draco Malfoy than dote over him. "Madam Pomfrey, I'm fine!" he shouted irritably, making use of his Seeker reflexes by slapping the offending wand away. Madam Pomfrey narrowed her eyes until they were mere slits, and her cheeks took on a rosy hue.

           "I will be the judge of that Mister Malfoy. You were a wreck last night and I intend to be sure you are right as rain before you so much as move a muscle!" she snapped. "Don't make me put a full body-bind on you, as one would to a toddler!" Sufficiently chastised and thoroughly irritated, Draco gave up his efforts to stop the Nurse's fussing, and resorted to shooting a vicious gaze to the Headmaster, who was chuckling to himself. To say Draco found his amusement rather annoying would be an understatement.

           "Poppy, unless Mister Malfoy complains of any pain, perhaps I might speak to him alone for a moment? I hardly think he will worsen his condition while sitting here with me." Madam Pomfrey had the good grace to look chastised as Draco had been moments before, and nodded reluctantly.

           "Very well, very well. But he is not to leave for another day at least! Understood?"

           "Yes, Poppy. Understood." She nodded curtly and sped off in the opposite direction, to tend to a couple of Second Years sporting bunny ears. Draco stared Dumbledore in the eyes, waiting for an explanation as to his current condition. "I will cut to the chase, Mister Malfoy. You awoke last night in an excruciating amount of pain. We found you and brought you here. Does any of this ring a bell?" Draco frowned and was about to say that no, it didn't, when suddenly he remembered. The Dream. The Sight. Mother.

           "I remember," he replied blankly.

           "Very good, then. Do you know why you were in pain?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

           "Do you?"

           "Yes, Draco, I do," he replied calmly.

           "Then why are you questioning me?"

           "Mister Malfoy, I am going to be perfectly frank, as I believe that is the only way to deal with you. I knew your mother was a Seer. I know she is now deceased. I know that last night her Gift was passed to you." Draco's eyes threatened to widen, but he kept his emotions in check.

           "How?" he asked simply.

           "What I am about to tell you is completely confidential, Mister Malfoy. Very few people know this. Can I trust you to keep this information secret?" he asked, his blue eyes hardening and boring into Draco's grey. The youth nodded shortly. "Very well. I too am a Seer, Draco. That is how I know about you. I trained your mother to use her Gift, and if you want to live through the next month, you must allow me to train you as well.” There was a slight pause while the blonde pondered this information. Dumbledore continued, “It’s not so bad, really. There all sorts of little wandless tricks that come along with being a Seer. . .even some sneaky transportation spells. I think you’ll rather enjoy it."

           "You're a descendant of Rodger Ravenclaw, then?" inquired the curious boy, while trying not to sound very curious at all. Dumbledore's eyes showed mild surprise.

           "You know?"

           "Narcissa," Draco replied by way of explanation. "I suppose I have no choice but to allow you to train me. And I'm not about to go blurting out that you're a Seer. That would arouse too much suspicion. I do not need people questioning me."

           "A truly Slytherin response, Mister Malfoy." They sat in silence for a moment. Then, "I am sorry about your mother, Draco." Draco stiffened slightly, and his expression went from indifferent to pointedly blank in an instant.

           "Things like this happen sometimes. It is of little importance to me now," he replied in a frigid, biting tone. Even knowing beforehand that Draco Malfoy was not one to show weakness, this harsh statement shocked the Headmaster somewhat.

           "Of course. Well, I had best be leaving you to some rest and food. I will arrive after supper to begin your training. There are some things you must know before you attempt to sleep naturally again." And with that, Draco was left alone. He tried to recall the details of the night before, and found that they came easily. He remembered the searing agony he'd been in upon waking, and Hermione. She'd not just left him to suffer, as he would have done to himself had he been her, but sprung into action. He remembered the warmth of her delicate form against him, and the coolness of the cloth she'd so considerately pressed against his forehead.

           And Draco was amazed.

           She hadn't had to do that. She could have put a silencing charm on him and left him there, going back to sleep. He'd never known people who were kind like that. She probably would have done the same thing for Snape, but Draco still felt...something...when he remembered the soothing tone of her voice the night before. His twisted sense of honor demanded that he cease to treat her quite as horribly as before. That was, after all, the second time she'd helped him. Maybe it wasn't all lies when she insisted that she cared.

           This thought made the mercury eyed young man extremely uncomfortable. He knew how to deal with people who tolerated him, people who admired him, and people who despised him. People who cared about him were an entirely different realm. The best course of action would be just to ignore her. Then she'd stop caring. He had to make her stop caring.

           From here, Draco's thoughts wandered to his newly acquired gift. It would certainly come in handy once he learned to master it. Especially now that the Dark Lord had murdered his mother, the one person that had ever sacrificed anything for him. She had sacrificed her life. Draco's eyes darkened.

           As a seer, Draco Malfoy could surely get revenge on Voldemort. Somehow.

* * *

            There he was, leaning back lazily in his chair and fixing a giggling 4th Year Slytherin girl with his trademark glare. His posture was decidedly lazy as he leaned against the table, yet somehow managed to convey a grace and control that could not be learned. His gleaming, platinum hair seemed to enhance the deep grey of his eyes. Eyes that showed no reaction as the pretty girl beside him subtly brushed her chest against his arm. Hermione narrowed her eyes subconsciously.

            ".....right, and then, after Harry put on a strip show, I hexed Dumbledore and gave You-Know-Who a big, deep, passionate kiss right on the lips!" Hermione nodded and mumbled,

            "That's great, Gin'." Ginny shook her head irritably and followed her best friend's line of sight. Her eyes widened, and she quickly grabbed her friends shoulder and shook her back to reality.

           "'Mione! For Merlin's sake, could you be any more obvious?" Hermione's body jerked as her mind came back to her. She batted her lashes at Ginny innocently.

           "What on Earth are you talking about Ginny?" The Head Girl brought her hand to her mouth in fake realization. "I'm sorry, were you trying to tell me something? I was thinking of what potion I was going to study for that project Snape assigned today, and--" Ginny cut her off.

           "Don't give me that, Hermione Granger!" She lowered her voice and leaned forward. "You were staring at Draco Malfoy!" Knowing she was a terrible liar, and not really wanting to lie to her only girl friend, Hermione turned away before she did just that.

           "If I was staring in that direction, it obviously wasn't at ferret- boy, Ginny. Honestly! You should know me better than that!" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded weak. She turned back to the youngest Weasley just in time to catch her raise an eye-brow.

           "You're a terrible liar Hermione." Hermione reddened indignantly.

           "I am not! And lying has nothing to do with this. I was not staring at Draco, and that's that." Not noticing her use of Draco's first name, she decided to change the subject. She knew she'd been staring at him, and she didn't want to think about why. It seemed like ever since she'd tried to help him that night a week ago, he was embedded in her mind. A permanent fixture in her thoughts. Dumbledore had told her that Draco's behaviour would probably not change after his mother's death, and true to form, it hadn't. She didn't understand him, and much to her shame-and completely against her will--she found this immensely attractive. "So," she started.

           "Don't worry. I won't tell anybody. It really ought to be illegal, being that good looking. And you, having to live with him! You can't help but be more aware of it." Hermione blinked at her confusedly. "Of course," she thoughtfully added, "He's a complete arsehole, and you are far too intelligent to fall in love with him." Hermione feared Ginny's uncharacteristically piercing gaze would burn a whole right through her. "Right?"

           She turned away again. "Ginny, he's been my enemy for the past six years. Just because it turns out he has a brain, and he's made Head Boy, doesn't change that."

           "Granger, I'm hurt," purred a husky voice next to her ear, sending chills through her. "And here I thought you were starting to warm up to me." Shooting up and turning with shock, Hermione found herself staring into two chasms of liquid silver.

           "Don't you ever sneak up behind me like that again, you idiot!" she snapped, contradicting her admission of his intelligence. "What do you want?" Draco smirked, making him look sinfully sexy.

           "A million galleons, the legalization of the Dark Arts--"

           "I'm serious," she said through clenched teeth. Having lived with him for the past week, Hermione knew that the only way to deal with Malfoy was to cling to the topic at hand like it was your life. He was dreadfully manipulative, and had a wicked sense of humour. Suddenly and completely without warning, he grabbed her arm and began pulling her out of the Great Hall. "Where are we going??"

           "We need to plan the Hallowe'en Ball," he replied as they rounded the corner and headed down the hall.

           "You could have said that before you dragged me away! I wasn't done eating, and now Harry and Ron are going to be wondering where you took me!" Draco stopped suddenly and glanced at her. Her creamy skin was flushed with frustration, and her big cinnamon eyes were shooting him daggers. Despite himself, he smiled.

           Hermione might as well have kissed her brain goodbye right then and there.

           "They know you have Head business to deal with, and they know I'm Head Boy. The situation is remarkably self-explanatory." Hermione shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued towards their common room. "Well, of course it is. But Harry and Ron are--"

           "Remarkably dim-witted?" he supplied helpfully.

           "No! Very--"

           "In love with each other?"

           "NO!! They're protective, alright?" she yelled as they approached the Founders painting.

           "I see you two are getting along famously!" remarked a grinning Salazar Slytherin. "Not that any of us had any doubts that you would."

           "Getting along? Are you mad, Salazar?" spluttered Godric Gryffindor. "He is driving Hermione crazy. They're yelling at each other!"

           "You said the same thing about Rowena and Salazar years ago," said Helga Hufflepuff amusedly. "Now look at them." Hermione and Draco glanced at Ravenclaw and Slytherin along with Gryffindor. Rowena was comfortably perched on Slytherin's lap, sleeping against his shoulder peacefully. Even in her sleep, you could tell she loved him.

           "He hasn't by any chance killed her, has he? Because that would be the only way that their situation could ever mirror anything between me and Granger," Draco drawled. Hufflepuff smiled at him tolerantly.

           "You know, you remind me of what Rowena and Salazar's child would no doubt be like. Handsome, charming, intelligent--"

           "-Disrespectful, rude, conceited--" continued Gryffindor irritably.

           "-you aren't by any chance a descendant, are you?" Hufflepuff enquired, ignoring the red-headed man beside her. Hermione stared at Draco incredulously as he smugly replied,

           "Why, yes, as a matter of fact. I am."

           "Oh, Merlin! Malfoy, there is no way that you are a long-lost Heir of Slytherin or Ravenclaw, let alone both of them." Draco turned to glare at her.

           "I don't know how long and serious their relationship was, Granger, but if Slytherin was Ravenclaw's husband, or lover, then it's entirely likely that I am related to them both."

           "So you know for a fact that you're a descendant of Ravenclaw?" she asked bewilderedly. "How?" Draco, realizing he'd said too much, turned back to the portrait, ignoring the grins of Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

           "Hogwarts," he told it, before hurrying into the common room. Hermione followed, glaring at him the entire time.

           "You know, you're one of the most rude boys I've ever known," she snapped. Draco shrugged, and sat down on his couch, leaving Hermione to stand beside it awkwardly. They were supposed to be working together. Did he mean for her to work with him from her couch? This was certainly awkward.

           Draco looked up at Hermione intently. Her long, thick chocolate brown hair was shining almost ethereally in the firelight, and she was looking at him with a sort of desperate confusion. Suddenly remembering he owed it to her to be at least civil, Draco gestured to the spot beside him. "Sit, then. We haven't got all night." Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and she tentatively sat down.

           "Okay." She sat up stiffly, with her hands folded in her lap, and looked at the floor. Draco grinned.

           "You can relax, you know. I only bite if you're into that sort of thing." Hermione shot him another glare, and Draco mentally slapped himself for flirting. He cleared his throat. "So what do you want to discuss first?" Hermione glanced at him slyly, and Draco remembered himself. "Other than what happened this summer, or what happened last week," he added quickly. Hermione grinned.

           "Okay then, how do you know Rowena Ravenclaw is your ancestor?"

           "Dumbledore," he lied smoothly. It was almost true. If Narcissa hadn't told him before she was killed, Dumbledore probably would have anyway.

           "Really?" she drawled. "Then why aren't you in Ravenclaw?" she asked triumphantly.

           "Exactly what I was wondering. Obviously, I'm descended from Slytherin too, and his qualities won out over hers."

           "That would explain why you're such an idiot," Hermione retorted.

           "But I thought you told Ginny you think I'm smart? Are you taking that back? I'm hurt, Hermione." The brunette beauty stared at him in shock.

           "Did you just call me Hermione??" Draco had to use all of his self- control not to blush. Imagine! A Malfoy trying not to blush!

           "That is your name, isn't it?" he replied smoothly. "Now, when did you want to have the Hallowe'en Ball?"

           They worked together like that for hours, planning all the details, in between bouts of shameless flirting that both of them would fiercely deny participating in later. Much to Draco's surprise, Hermione was completely at ease with him now, and he found himself struggling more than ever to remain indifferent to her. "I really do love Hogwarts, you know? I wish I could show it to my parents, but...." Hermione trailed off uneasily, and Draco knew she was cursing herself for bringing up her Muggle parents. Feeling his stomach sink at her sudden unease, Draco spoke before he thought.

           "Don't worry about that, Hermione," he said quietly. Hermione searched his face, trying to figure out what he meant.

           "Worry about what, exactly?" she asked carefully. Draco could literally feel his Death Eater heritage hanging between them like a barrier. He wanted that barrier to go away. He couldn't quite figure out what it was about her that did it, but she made him feel normal for once. Like he was just some guy-some exceptionally intelligent and good looking guy, he reminded himself-talking to a girl. After a minute of thought, Draco knew what he had to do.

           Hermione watched Draco, searching for emotion on his face that she knew she would not find. His face was, as usual, a blank mask. She wished with all her being that they could go back to the way they'd been before she'd stupidly brought up her parents. After what seemed like forever, Draco spoke.

           "You have to understand, Hermione, that my life isn't the same as yours, or Weasley's, or Potter's. You were raised with choices. Malfoys don't have choices. We have duties. We uphold the family honor. We are the best at everything we do, the leaders of every group we join, and as respected as is possible."

           "Since when does following Voldemort make you any of those things?!" she snapped, against her better judgement. She waited for Draco's notorious temper to show itself, but much to her surprise, he simply laughed softly.

           "You have no idea how glad I am that you see it that way, too. At one point I thought I was crazy. Lucius doesn't agree with us. He seems to think that Voldemort is the answer. I, personally, think they've both lost their minds." He paused here, and turned to face her. His eyes bored into hers, seeming to search for something. He reached forward and clasped his cool hands around hers for a moment, before quickly dropping them, as if burned. Hermione secretly mourned the loss of the contact, and chided herself for it silently.

           "It's no secret that Lucius is practically Voldemort's right-hand man. In the world of the Death Eaters, there could be no greater shame than a family that doesn't fear and obey you, and a son that doesn't strive to be your carbon copy. Naturally, I was trained for the life of a Death Eater from birth. Don't look at me like that, I'm not exaggerating. To be a Death Eater, you have to be strong. Friends are a weakness, so Lucius made sure that I had none. I was taught the differences between purebloods and mudbloods, taught why I should hate them, and eventually kill them." At this, Hermione stiffened. "But I hate him, Hermione. I have for the past couple of years. I can't respect a man who could do that do his own wi..." at this he trailed off, seeming to decide that he couldn't tell her whatever he was about to say. He looked almost sad for a minute, then just angry.

           "A man who could do what to who?" Draco shook his head.

           "Doesn't matter. The point is, he did something that was the last straw for me. He told me I was to be a Death Eater. I refused. I was punished. He asked again...I refused again..." Draco laughed mirthlessly. "And, well, you saw what happened then. Although that last time was a duel effort between him and Voldemort." Hermione felt all the blood drain from her face. She'd wanted to know what happened to him in the summer, and now she knew. Draco stood up suddenly and removed his Slytherin robes. Underneath, he was wearing a pair of Muggle jeans and a loose, dark green button up shirt, with the top buttons left undone. Hermione vaguely noted that it was a good thing he was in Slytherin, because green made him look amazing, with his cold eyes and platinum hair. He sat back down beside her, and pushed up his left sleeve.

           Hermione gasped. "Oh, Merlin. Draco..."

           "Don't pity me, Granger," he said harshly. His forearm was a mass of swollen red scar tissue and open cuts. It looked incredibly painful, and was probably doubly so because it was a magical injury. It seemed like such a sin to have a mark as horrid as that marring such beautiful skin. "That's what you get when you pull away in the middle of having the Dark Mark forced on you. But I wasn't about to let Voldemort control me. I won't let anyone control me." Hermione had never felt so furious in her life. The idea that a father could ever do this to his own son sickened her. At that moment, if Lucius Malfoy had entered the room, Hermione was afraid she'd Avada Kedavra him on the spot.

           "What else did they do?" she whispered. Draco looked up when he heard her serious tone, but if he was startled he didn't show it. He shrugged, and pulled his arm away, pushing the sleeve back down.

           "A few Cruciatus curses. You saw me. You know what they did physically." Then, possibly to lighten the mood, he added, "Oh, and between you and me, Voldemort's Imperius curse is nothing to fear. I could probably do better." The fact that he could still joke and be conceited at a time like this only made Hermione like him more. He was so very different from Harry and Ron.

           "Why do you say that?" she asked teasingly.

           "I broke out of it." Hermione's eyes widened.

           "You broke out of Voldemort's Imperius curse?!"

           "All in a day's work for Draco Malfoy, Granger. Anyway, the point of this ridiculously cliche anecdote is that I'm not a Death Eater, and I'm not going to freak out at the mention of your parents." A comfortable silence enveloped them, then, but one question was burning at the back of Hermione's mind.

           "So what do you think of Muggles and Muggle-borns? You didn't join Voldemort because you hate your father and you refuse to be lead. Fine. But do you agree with their cause?" Draco fell silent, and Hermione felt her heart sink. "Draco?"

           "It's getting late, isn't it?" he asked casually. "We should probably call it a night." Hermione could barely believe her ears. He'd opened up to her finally, then closed right up again. Not only that, but he refused to answer her question. She wasn't stupid. She knew that meant he believed what he'd been taught.

           Fuming, Hermione stood up, reached down, and hit Draco across the face with a resounding 'slap!'. "You're a fucking bastard, Draco Malfoy!" she hissed venomously, before storming to her room.

           She therefore missed the resigned expression on Draco's face as he gazed into the fire. He'd come to a realization. He'd made a decision.

           And nothing was going to stop him.

* * *

A/N: Hey there! Okay, not much plot advancement. Sorry. I had to establish the relationship between Draco and Hermione a bit, and this last interaction between them has helped Draco make a decision that will shape the rest of the story. Oh, yes, my friends. Draco Malfoy has plans. And I'm telling you, this boy's got guts. That's why I love him, hehehe! Anyway, Draco's behaviour will be explained in the next chapter. You'll discover his plan, there'll be a lovely little seer-sequence, he'll get pissed at some Slytherins, and Harry and Ron will get pissed at Hermione. The Halloween Ball isn't coming up until chapter 11. By the way, don't flame me saying Draco can't be related to Slytherin and Ravenclaw, because in second year we discovered that Tom Riddle was the heir of Slytherin. Draco isn't the heir of Slytherin because he has Ravenclaw in him too. Slytherin must have had kids with another woman at some point, resulting in the ancestor of voldemort. I'm not going there in this fic. I might in another, though. I've always wanted to do a founders fic. So, did you hate it? Like it? Let me know, and let me know why! ~May