Draco Malfoy and the Point of No Return

Draco Malfoy and the point of no-return

Chapter 1:

Gits, confrontations and psychiatrists, oh my

The Malfoy Mansion, around Christmas time.

The dream was constant. The same death. The same love. The same feeling of remorse.

First it started with the woman. The one with the long flowing hair and the one with the piercing gray eyes. Violetta was her name and Dracoknew her well. All it took was one word from her rosy lips and he found himself in her command. He didn't know how to stop the urge to do what she said. And even more confusing was the shape her shadow took; always a man, and it puzzled Draco.

The death consisted of a faceless person. Whether old or young, Draco could not decipher. The corpses' features were obscured by her white silver hair, which was unmovable.

"Veela hair. But why?" Draco thought out loud.

Try as he might to pry the strands off the body, they would just get tighter, and he could even see a trickle of dark blood seeping from the sides.

He'd always wake up with a sudden jolt. And the dream was always the same. Never continuing, never elaborating.

"Lumos" he would say before splashing his face with water and ending the night off in a restless sleep, in a dimly lit room.

**********

Hogwart's school, Christmas morning.

Ginny Weasley was up early before the rest of the world was even awake, and on Christmas morning. It was the nightmare that kept her from sleep, the one she had been hearing since her first year of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle was all she could think of. He plagued her mind. She could not help shudder as she remembered what he did to her. The things that couldn't even imagine revealing to anyone; the horrible details everyone knew but refused to admit. The untold story that was buried deep inside the chamber of secrets.

"Look at you," he would hiss in her ear, "you're filthy. What have you gotten up to? There's blood and feathers all over you. Wonder what mummy and daddy would say if they saw their little girl looking like a murdering whore."

All she could do was whimper, "stop", over and over again. "I think I should clean you up," he would say as he got down on his knees and began to lick the blood off her delicate, young fingers.

"Stop," she would whimper again, but this time more loudly. "Oh, but I've only just begun," he said, standing up and now looming over her like a tall willow tree.

"And the fun hasn't even started."

The memory of what he did to her young, fragile body made her break out into a cold sweat and hot tears. She needed to get away from the memory of Tom. She needed to escape the constant threat of his present form, You-Know - oh sod it, Voldemort. She needed to escape Harry, not because he did anything, but the fact that whenever she looked at him, all she saw was the black hair that reminded her of him. The hair that rubbed against her cheek, the hair that felt like sandpaper, the scent of his hair that she would inhale as he abused her mind and body. She needed to escape any reminder. So she left that summer, for a Beauxbatons exchange. Things had to change.

**********

The Burrow, seven months later.

"Morning loves!" said Mrs. Weasley the same way she did every morning to the three companions; Ron, Harry and Hermione. Ginny would have been part of that group if not for the fact that she was on a full-year exchange at Beauxbatons, and had left in May, having done her O.W.L's earlier. She had, surprisingly enough, made quick friends with Fleur DeLacour's second cousin, Françoise, who was three quarters veela, within a few days of arrival. Ron found this highly annoying, not seeing how her sister could become friends with the sister of the most beautiful girl he had ever seen next to Fleur, but turned every shade of red whenever she sent him a letter along with Ginny's owl (it seemed that veela charm rubbed off in letters, too). Françoise was first forced to sending the letters, as a favour to her friend, but soon found herself quite taken with Ron's sensitivity, which he would only show in their "intimate" letters. What was said in the letters had become the most popular reason to tease Ron.

"Received another have you?" said Mrs. Weasley, while using her wand to magically flip some sausages around in a pan.

Ron glared at her. "Mum!" he drawled, "Would you quit teasing me about it! And she's not my girlfriend! We've only met once! She's just being friendly."

Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Oh Ron, you know it is alright to have a girl friend! Even if the relationship is long-distance! Percy, Charlie and Bill all went through that same thing! Well, none of them quite had the relationships you're having, but you get my drift!"

Hermione giggled. "Yeah Ron, don't be ashamed of your girlfriend."

Ron stood up, looking ever more exasperated than before.

"Really now! If you're going to be immature about me corresponding with Gabrielle..."

"Oh look whose talking! And corresponding doesn't seem like the right word. More like necking or snogging, or..." Hermione said looking teasingly at Ron while trying to stifle her fit of laughter. She found it really funny whenever Ron got defensive over Gabrielle's 'friendly' letters which included messages like 'des grands becs!' and 'je t'aime!'.

"Ok guys, I think Ron has had enough teasing for today," said Harry monotonically, not bothering to look up from his meal.

Ron sat down. "Thanks Harry," he said but Harry didn't even look up to smile like he usually did.

Hermione stared at him though, with a look of pity in her eyes. "Harry," she asked worried, "Is everything alright?"

Harry stared back, looking a little dazed. "I'm fine," he said with a tone of finality in his voice along with a forced smile.

Ron and Hermione looked at each other thinking the same thing:

Cedric Diggory

It had been about two years since Harry had witnessed the death of one of the four champions in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Try as he might to forget about what happened, he was always constantly reminded about it because of Fred and George talking about the fortune he had given them, and Françoise's letters. He just couldn't escape it. Harry had been so distant with everything that even his closest friends could only guess the pain that he was suffering inside. Even the comment that Draco Malfoy had made at the end of 4^th year had sat with him for as long as he could remember. It was enough that Draco had to say something, but it was another thing to know that it was true, and his Muggle-born friend Hermione and his Muggle-lover friend Ron, would be killed by Voldemort, who was now stronger and more powerful than before.

"You've picked the losing side Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day of Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riff-raff like this! Too late now Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the first."

Hermione quickly changed the subject. "Harry, your birthday is coming up, you want anything special?" she asked looking hopeful at him, while inching her hand closer to his.

Harry just grunted in response through egg that was forcefully stuck in his mouth. Usually he would swallow his food right away to answer to something as special as his birthday. After all, this was like a new experience for him. The Dursley's hadn't exactly showered him with birthday presents and parties like they had for Dudley.

"Harry," Hermione persisted, "you know it is alright to talk about your worries. We are your friends, you know. It's not like you have to confess to Professor Snape."

Harry twitched in his seat. "I have no worries," he sneered, "I wish people would just leave me alone!"

And at that, he got up, tapped at a pack that was concealed inside his breast pocket at them all. Mrs. Weasley sighed. So did Ron and Hermione.

Harry had had enough of the responsibilities and ordeals he'd had to face since the age of 11. He believed that the only way to escape was to get indulge in something. He had tried drinking before, but after dealing with so many hangovers, he decided it wasn't worth waking up every morning with throbbing headaches and nausea. So he started smoking. When he had started, he had coughed a little, and felt rather sick, but was determined that it would be him abusing the cigarettes, not the other way around. Well, determination paid off for Harry Potter. When he smoked, it gave him a calming, almost numbing feeling inside. He knew the dangers of smoking, since he had heard his Aunt Petunia ranting and raving about how it gave you cancer, but it made Harry all the happier. He wanted to die almost, but not in just one swift blow. Every drag he took made him want to die a little bit more, and the more he died inside, the safer he felt that his friends would be, because eventually, he wouldn't be there as a danger to them, and then the Dark Lord wouldn't want to attack them, because really, what was the point of hurting his friends if he wasn't there to get hurt himself? They could pass under the Dark Lord's radar, and Harry could have peace at last.

Hermione and Ron tried to discourage him from it time and time again, but all he would say back was "No. It's the only thing I've had that's my own". Which only made them feel insulted, because they always felt they were his as well, his best friends, confidants, even family. They had never hung around with anybody else except one another. But, they had learned to deal with it.

As soon as they had stopped obsessing about his little habit, he seemed to be a much happier person. Although, they had made a deal that he could smoke, but just not around them. Mrs. Weasley knew very well that it was illegal what Harry was doing, but she didn't want to intervene, not with the way he had been acting lately. She also knew what he had been through in the past few years, but she put herself in denial, trying to reassure herself that he wasn't smoking, and that it was all a dream. Since she didn't want the dream to end, she "allowed" him to smoke outside. They wished he wouldn't do it in the first place, but honestly, what could they do?

**********

Harry looked at the pack of "Owl Lights" that he had grabbed out his pocket. He took one of the cigarettes out, and looked at its dark and sparkling contents. These weren't much different than Muggle cigarettes, except for the color. Try as the creators might, there were just some things that magic couldn't beat. The pack had a glittering owl that flapped its wings back and forth whenever he took one out.

Harry stuck it between his lips and started the lighter he had stolen from Uncle Vernon before he left for the Burrow.

After taking a few drags from it, he felt a cold, small hand touch his shoulder.

"I thought you didn't like it when I smoked around you, Hermione," Harry said not even bothering to turn around and face one of his best friends.

"You're my best friend Harry, I'm not going to let you drown yourself in sorrow. You're hurting, I can tell. But you won't tell us what's the matter, so can you just talk to me for a minute? Can you just try?"

Harry shrugged. "Hermione, it's not that I can't talk with you, it's just that I can't talk with anyone. Sometimes just being alone helps." He took another drag on his cigarette.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I hear there are psychiatrists that advertise in Diagon Alley. They are supposed to be really helpful. They can solve your problems and give you solutions in less than 10 days or less."

This time Harry did turn around. He bore his green eyes into Hermione's brown ones. "Look, what part of "not talking to anyone" did you not understand?"

"Harry, I'm only trying to help!" Hermione pleaded. "Please! I hate seeing you in this state! And if you can't talk to either of us, your best friends, then I thought, well, erm, that professional help might do the job! They have improved from Sirius's days you know."

Harry blinked. He remembered that after Sirius had gotten out of Azkaban, he had sought out a psychiatrist, and had gotten one, but had gotten so fed up with paying 1 000 galleons a session, and not getting any results, that he had just stormed out. Sirius had told Harry so many funny and depressing stories about psychiatrists that he had not been able to take them seriously for the life of him.

"Hermione!" Harry pleaded. "Please! I know you are trying to help, and believe me I'm grateful that you are at least trying, but honestly... Some things just can't be helped by professionals and this is something I have to figure out for myself."

Hermione's eyes began to well up. "If you think that that it's the most logical choice..." she said trailing off, doubt obvious in every word.

Harry put his hands on her shoulders, his cigarette dangling from the right hand corner of his mouth. "Right now, I feel I'm doing what I know is best for me. And maybe someday, I'll break down and tell you all what's buggering up my life. But right now, I cannot even begin to figure out what is making me feel so miserable. Give me time; until then, do not, and I repeat do not let your summer be ruined by a self-pitying git like me".

And for the first time in weeks, Harry smiled. A true smile, and Hermione could not take it anymore. She let tears of joy and sadness run freely down her face.

Harry took the cigarette out of his mouth and into his right hand and pulled her into his arms, and for more than a few minutes, they just stood there in the midday sun, holding each other and comforting each other in silence, while clouds of idle, purple smoke spiraled around Hermione's dark hair.

**********

Draco yawned and groaned, simultaneously, having been rudely awakened by his father, Lucius Malfoy.

"Wake up boy. We're going to get your school supplies." He said, his jaw stiff and his gray eyes piercing into Draco's sleeping face.

"A little excited here? It's not even August yet and you want to get my school supplies? All the sooner to be rid of me? How sweet of you," Draco said looking back at his soldier-stiff father.

"Don't talk back to me like that boy! You know what the consequences are for disobeying your elders!"

Draco shuddered. He remembered when he told his father two years ago that Lucius sounded a lot like Lucie. He had been sent down to a secret room that even Draco had had no previous knowledge of and was forced to do hard physical labour for a week with little food and drink, so that he would "learn" to respect. Draco wanted to say something about him being confusing the term "respect" with "utter madness" but he held his tongue, knowing what would happen if he didn't.

"Alright then father, I'm getting up. I'll be down in 20 minutes." Draco said still wincing at the thought of the "consequences"

"See that you do." And with that, Lucius Malfoy spun around and walked out of his sons room, black robes laced with the Malfoy emblem, which was a calligraphy 'M' with a snake twirling around it, flowing behind him.

Draco stared lazily after his father. "Gherkinizedgit" he hissed before kicking off his dark green bed sheets and getting up to look in the mirror.

"I'm a mess," he thought aloud, ruffling his light hair that glimmered in the sun that was peaking through his curtains.

But an inside voice spoke back; "You were always a mess, and you will be for the rest of your life. It's in your blood." Draco scowled to himself and entered his private bathroom down the hall. Everything seemed to be adorned with snakes. The set of taps, the showerhead, even the toilet flusher had a silver, sinister looking snake head that bared four huge long teeth and a curling tongue.

He remembered that his father had done this right after he got word that his only son was placed into Slytherin. At the time, Draco had been thrilled at the new renovations of his once dusty and under-used bathroom, but now five years later he found all of this quite pretentious.

He turned the handle and water came pouring out of the showerhead snake. He took off his pyjamas and stepped in. He tried holding back a tiny gasp as the freezing water hit his body, but he failed miserably. Soon enough, the water changed to warm, contrasting his normally coolish behaviour and body temperature.

He had only started to enjoy the sweet release of the warm shower when he heard someone open the door and walk silently before the shower curtain, curling pale, small fingers around the edges before drawing it back.

"Mum!" Draco cried, ultimately horrified being naked before his mother.

"S-sorry dear," stuttered Narcissa, "I-I just wanted to tell you that your father wants you down for breakfast in five minutes."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest. "And he couldn't' tell me this himself, why?"

Narcissa straightened up.

"Your father is a very busy man. Besides, he thought it best for me to make myself more useful, by doing this."

Draco rolled his eyes.

"You know mum, it is alright to call dad a sodding arsehole sometimes you know. It's not like I'm going to tattle-tale."

Narcissa's eyes suddenly grew large. She looked with bewildered eyes at her son's angry countenance, his skin every bit as pale as her own. Narcissa opened her mouth to say something, but closed it quickly.

"Well mum," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "although I dearly love this deep non-verbal conversation we're having, if I'm to meet daddy's wishes, you better leave me to the rest of my shower." Draco said 'daddy's wishes' like he had some sort of bitter taste in his mouth.

Narcissa looked down at her feet. "Of course, how foolish of me." And left as silently out of the door as she had coming in.

Sighing, Dracolaid his head against the shower's silver tiles. "I can never have peace here."

He then got out and wrapped a dark green towel around his pale, built waist, splashing his face with soap and water.

"Well, I may be a mess inside, but I still have my looks." He said smiling, rubbing insta-sleek gel in his hair before returning to his room, only to find another surprise when got there.

**********

Beauxbaton, 1 month back

Ginny lugged her heavy, hand-me-down suitcase through the magnificent, pearly doors of Beauxbatons to their main hall. She was simply lost for words when she looked around the Academy. The whole ceiling was enchanted to look like one large sun. She took in its warmth and smiled, feeling like a part of Beauxbatons already, despite the fact that she looked very out of place in the blue castle with her black, frayed robes that had once been Ron's. When she saw someone walking across the main hall, she rushed towards them, and in her best French, uttered some words, which she thought meant "Do you know where your headmistress is?" but obviously they meant something else, because the person just looked at her disgusted, snorted and walked away. She stood around for about five minutes longer, but to her it felt like five hours. Just when she thought she was going to have to spend all year in the main hall (she didn't want to walk around and get lost in the enormous castle), a girl, about sixteen, floated down the halls. She stopped and walked to Ginny.

"Are you lost?" She asked, flinging her long, silky silver hair behind her.

Ginny was surprised that the girl spoke English so well. "Yes, I am, actually. I'm looking for Madame Maxime. Do you know where she is?"

The girl smiled. "I do. Follow me. Oh, and I am Françoise Delacour. Pleased to meet you."

"I'm Ginny Weasley, nice to meet you too," she said as they shook hands.

Ginny was beginning to think that soon Tom would be out of her head. But she had never been so wrong.

**********

Walking along the long dark halls back to his room, Draco hummed a tune while creating small puddles of left over water that hung on his hair and body.

He stopped in front of his bedroom door, which was closed.

"That's odd," thought Draco, "I don't remember closing it."

Shrugging it off, he turned the cold handle and gasped. There was a dark, cloaked shape looming over and peering under his bed.

Draco cleared his throat. "You know Dad, if you've lost your contact lens again, I don't think looking under my bed, where's there is plenty of dust, is going to help."

Lucius, startled, banged his head on the edge of his bed, and stood up, groaning and rubbing a sore spot on his temple with his bony grey fingers.

"Do not startle me like that boy!" said Lucius dryly, looking furious.

Draco crossed his arms. "Well what am I supposed to do? Say "Oh Daddy, please continue your treasure hunt under my bed! I just love it when you go through my personal things." I didn't think so."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. "I do not like your tone of voice boy."

For a moment they just stared at each other, both pairs of grey eyes shinking with the same malice and comtempt. Ice upon ice. Then Draco broke the silence.

"So what was so fascinating under my bed?"

Lucius smiled evilly.

"Are you hiding anything from us boy?"

"You're not answering my question. I've nothing hidden under the bed. Besides, I keep the high doses of Muggle narcotics, alcohol and porn in the closet. But really, Father, I'm hiding nothing."

Lucius frowned. "I'll ask this one more time. Are you hiding anything from us boy?"

Draco sighed. "No, I'm not. So would you answer my question."

"I think you're lying." Lucius stated bluntly. Draco looked taken aback, then regained his composure.

"I never lie," he said between his gritted teeth.

Lucius did that evil smile again.

"Then how do you explain this?" And he pulled form behind his back a parchment with his mother and father drawn on it.

It was quite an amusing picture, Draco always thought. It featured his mother looking like a zombie, complete with bloodshot eyes that look liked they were about to pop out of her head, and her arms flailing straight out before her. She even had a dialogue bubble that said "take me to your leader."

The sketch of his father was something Draco was most proud of. He drew him abnormally straight, with a very large and thick stick coming out of his behind.

Draco snapped out of thought and found that Lucius was waving the parchment right in front of his nose.

"Do you think this is funny boy? What ever possessed you to do such a thing? Disgracing us like that!" Lucius said spitting on the picture in the process.

Draco just smirked.

"I knew that if I drew this picture, that it would get first place in the 'deranged family' art contest at school."

Lucius looked like he could fume at the ears.

"Your morning is not starting off well boy. First you disobey my orders, then you frighten your mother and even then you're not done, no! You have to go and mock us! Mock your parents who have cared for you all your life."

"I believe frighten isn't the correct word. More like 'joke' or 'kid', a less harsh word. And caring? I won't even begin to describe how that lacks in this household!"

Lucius ripped the parchment into little pieces.

"I had planned something wonderful but now today's plans are going to change drastically. You need help boy, help. Your mind is not here," he said as he tapped Draco's forehead.. "I don't know what's wrong with you boy, but you are not acting as a Malfoy should!"

He threw the ripped pieces into the air. Stepping through the cloud of floating bits of paper, Lucius stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Draco gathered the bits into a pile, feeling its texture under his hands. He pointed his wand at the pile and muttered reparo, watching the pile spring back into its original state. He then opened his closet, looking for a place in the back, and stuffed the picture there, not caring what happened to it anymore.

"Your plans may have changed drastically, but mine sure haven't."

And with that he pulled out his clothes for the day and slammed the closet door shut.

**********

"Hermione!" yelled Ron outside her window.

"Do stop studying for classes that haven't even started yet and come outside to grace us with your presence so that we can decide what to do today!"

Hermione had been reading her few new textbooks more than often these days. Even though she had spoken to Harry and gotten many things cleared up, she still couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Coming Ron!" she said slamming her 'Arithmancy, Level 4' on her table. She ran downstairs, opened the door, and squinted, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the bright sun.

"Look what Ron's dad left us for the day!" beamed Harry.

Hermione, not daring to look straight into his face, followed to where his hand was pointing. It was the Ford Anglia.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Ron... you aren't going to fly it are you? What if some Muggles saw you, or it ran out of gas, or..." Her mind was already backing the their second year at Hogwarts when Ron had driven his father's car into the Womping Willow.

But Ron interrupted her. "We aren't going to fly it Herm! Mum made Dad take off the flying charm. By driving, we get to Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade much faster than if we wait around for them to come home and give us floo powder to use. However," he shrugged, "We have to take a little detour into London first. Don't want to scare the wizards with a car that drives on the ground as opposed to in the air."

"I thought we were deciding what to do today, not telling me that the two of you have already planned things! Because there's this new library just south of DiagonAlley that supposedly has one of the best selection of unicorn books that could really help me with my essay and -"

But Hermione was interrupted yet again by Harry putting his hands on her shoulders. She winced a bit, because it brought back memories to their little "talk" and for some reason, right now, she didn't want to remember it.

"You've been inside for most of the summer Hermione, come and be social for a few hours! Whichever professor you're writing this essay for can just bloody well wait. It's summer! Just relax!"

A bit flustered, Hermione suddenly became very interested in her blue sandals.

"Sure... sounds great!" she said, again not daring to look into Harry's eyes.

Harry smiled, pulled a cigarette out of his pack, marched to the car, and pulled out his lighter when Ron stared having a hissy fit.

"Harry!" he whined, "no smoking in the car! It's enough that we have to put up with it at all, but not in the Ford Anglia!" He whined again patting the hood of the blue car, causing it to purr slightly in the engine.

Hermione crossed her arms.

"If we're going to get anywhere today, we'd all better shut up and get a move on, so Ron, stop whinging, and Harry, I'm sure your fag fix can wait until the Leaky Cauldron."

Both boys frowned and said 'hmph' under their breath.

As Ron walked to the driver's side he said "I really don't get how you have so much power over two blokes who are many heads taller than you, I really don't."

The car ride was much more enjoyable. To Hermione's relief, Harry had decided to make himself comfortable in the back seats and slept during their entire trip.

"Ron," Hermione whispered, "have you noticed anything, well, erm, odd about Harry these days?"

Ron turned a corner very sharply causing Harry to groan. Hermione looked back hoping he was still asleep, and to her relief he seemed to have sunk into an even deeper one.

"Yeah," Ron whispered back, "he used to smell like a Quidditch field, but now he stinks more than my fire place."

Hermione poked him with her finger. "No, I mean really odd, behaviour wise."

Ron sighed.

"Herm, Harry's a special case and you have to take him into consideration before dubbing him 'unusually pratty'. For eleven years, he's been sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs, lived with the worst Muggles that come near to Lucius Malfoy in the 'tediously snarky and pratty' competition, his parents died close after his birth thanks to a big-headed dark wizard, he's been pursued by the same git since he arrived at Hogwarts, he's had near death experiences every year, his godfather is a reputed 'murderer' who is known everywhere, including the Muggleworld. To top it of two years ago he witnessed an innocent boy being killed by the same person who killed his parents." Ron stopped to catch his breath before continuing. "Now you tell me how this new behaviour is odd?"

Ron had a point, but it still didn't feel right, no matter how true Ron was being.

"But he never used to be like this Ron. It's just so sudden. It was as if after school had ended for the year he decided to drop his sweet behaviour behind and pick up a, well, bad-boy one."

Ron sighed again under his breath.

"You do realize he's been putting on that brave face for us?"

Hermione blinked. "W-what do you mean?"

"He's the 'great Harry Potter'. He can't afford to look all depressed. Plus, because he's just too damned good-natured, he didn't want us to go and feel down with him, so he's bottled it off until he couldn't take it anymore. So now this is sixteen years of battled and repressed anger and confusion. Just let him be Hermione, its really all that both of us can really do right now, that and supporting him whenever he needs a shoulder to cry on. He's been listening to us wail, whine and gnash our teeth for six years, now it's our turn to do the same for him."

Hermione was speechless. Ron became flushed in the cheeks and looked almost relieved that he said all that and got if off his chest. She turned back and watched Harry's sleeping form. He looked so peaceful and care-free, and right now she so desperately wanted to know what was going through his head so that she could do something, if anything, to get even a little of the "old" Harry back.

**********

As the Malfoy family marched down Diagon Alley, people seemed to part down the middle, avoiding the look about Lucius that demanded that they move. Any person who was stupid enough to ignore him was greeted by the famous "Lucius Death Glare"; Draco often thought that it should be registered as a lethal weapon. It always left people soiling themselves.

As they were about to turn into 'The Leaky Cauldron', Draco heard an unfamiliar high-pitched voice coming from afar.

"LUCIUS!" shrieked the voice.

"LUUUCIUS dahling!" shrieked the voice again.

"Ah, Beryl," said Lucius opening his arms to allow this woman to embrace him and cover both his cheeks in red lipstick.

"Durr! This is such a coincidence!" said Beryl, clapping her hands together.

She was a short and round woman, with dark red hair that was pulled back into a tight, short ponytail at the nape of her neck, and skin that was caked with foundation, which was obviously a few shades too dark. She had charcoal and blue eye shadow right up to her brow bone. Her red lipstick was a bit smudged from greeting Lucius.

Her robes were a deep red velvet with a bright pink trim, which matched her also bright pink square glasses. Her fingers were laden with large sparkly rings, her long nails were tinged with red, and black varnish was added at the tips in means of a French manicure. To end it off, her arms were covered in sparkly gold bangles and she wore a pair of badly matched turquoise heels. Draco thought she looked like a mixture between Professor Trelawney and Rita Skeeter.

"Beryl, you remember my wife Narcissa and my son Draco?"

"Oh hoohoo hoo I do! Naaarcissa, you look lovely as always! Where did you get that dress? And DRAAAACO dahling! How you've grown since I last saw you in bebe clothes. Looking very much like your father I must say! Mm durr, very handsome indeed!" she said in one breath, while at the same time managing to hug Narcissa, kiss her cheeks, pinch Draco's cheeks and using up the rest of her lipstick all over them.

"It's erm, um, very nice to see you again, erm, Ms..."

Beryl clapped him on the back.

"I forgot! Silly me for not doing a proper introduction! It's Beryl Cleaver, but since I'm a friend of the family, you can call me just Beryl, or Beryl Magda, that's my middle name, but that's just a quick interesting tidbit about me, so if you really prefer, you can just call me Beryl, or Beryl Magda, but never just Magda, either Beryl or Beryl Magda, but I think Beryl is much easier to say than both names so let's just leave it at that shall we?"

Draco blinked. He had never met anyone who yammered on and on like Beryl. Yet she seemed to think that it was perfectly normal to talk at one hundred miles per hour. Draco was glad she was here however, since she seemed to bring the best out of his father, so he was distracted from today's "changes."

"Beryl," drawled Lucius, "we were just going into 'The Leaky Cauldron', why don't you join us?"

Beryl clapped her hands together again, causing a loud clanging and tinkling due to all her rings and bangles being slapped together.

"Why dahling, yars yars, I'd lurve to join you! Durr, heaven knows I should never go in that place without a date! Durr Lucius, thank you, I'd love to come!"

Beryl then linked her arm into Lucius's and pulled him into the pub. Draco rolled his eyes and Narcissastill had her head down and they both followed suit.

"So Beryl," drawled Lucius, smiling a smarmy smile, "still doing your house and flat hunt?"

"Yars, yars, as always Luuucius dahling!" she said stuffing her face with scones and clotted cream.

"Hope its going well, because you know you can't lodge at the 'Leaky Cauldron' forever, I mean, with all the ministry business and stuff..." said Lucius,owho looked like he was about to give something secret away. He looked almost nervous. "... It's just completely out of your way to the office. You should be moving much closer!

"Well durr Lucius, of course I'd lurveto move closer to the office, but whenever I go out to check a possible house or flat, the Muggles there get all frightened and kick me out whenever I simply test the place! Durr, its so silly! All I do is sprinkle some floo powder in the fire place, test the walls with my wand for the presence of a ghost, and dip my wand in a potion and test it on the air and floor to see what the aura is like, if there is one!"

Draco suddenly had a vision of a Mugglecouple, pressed up against a wall in fear watching Beryl nancingabout their flat throwing floo powder in the air and tapping every flat surface for a 'presence'.

Lucius rolled his eyes.

"Again Beryl, those flats and houses are out of your way to the office! There are residences right beside it you know!"

Beryl waved a dismissive hand, causing her bangles and rings to clatter and glitter.

"Only a twenty-minute walk Luuucius! And besides," she said lowering her voice to a whisper, "I'd rather not be neighbours with Cornelius Fudge anyway. Nasty temper and snores very loudly from what I've heard. Anyway," now raising her voice so it was audible and was patting her stomach, "a twenty-minute walk every morning and night would do wonders on my girth! A ha ha ha ha ha!"

An awkward silence hung in the air and Draco broke it.

"So what part of the ministry do you work for Beryl?"

She choked a bit on her gin and tonic.

"'Scuseme dahling! You startled me a bit! Day dreaming a little about my dream house! I'm sorry, but could you repeat the question?" she pressed a ringed finger to her ear, making it go forward. Draco couldn't help noticing the unusually large witch hat earring.

"I said," Dracowas now feeling very exasperated towards Beryl and her calling him 'dahling' all the time, "which part of the ministry do you work for?"

"A ha ha ha ha! That's what you said! Well Draco dahling, in a very boring, a ha haha ha ha, section of the ministry. It's very grown up, so you might not understand it. So never you mind in what I do!" she said tapping the side of her noise, blatantly ignoring the fact that Draco was going into his sixth year.

He was starting to think that she was Cornelius Fudge's mistress and that all this nonsense of her not wanting to live near him was a pack of lies.

"Well Beryl, although we have thoroughly enjoyed your company, we must go now and see Fitzherbert," said Lucius.

"Durr! For who! Oh, yars yars, for Draaaco! I see! Well, he's very, very, good! Helps to solve anything! Durr! He helped me realize that Arthur Weasley and I weren't meant to be since all we did was fight and natter, and since then he has developed a wonderful family, Oh Luuucius dahling, don't give me that look! Forget about your bebe family fuel! And also I'm happy being single! And to think old Fitzi was a, well, you know! Durr, if you say you're off, then I'll go too! Have loads of errands to run! Byee!"

And out the door she went, a long flow of red, pink and turquoise coming from behind her.

Lucius turned on Narcissa and put a firm hand on her shoulder.

"I know you remember Beryl, Narcissa!" he hissed. "The least you could have done was say hello back and have a little girl talk instead of me doing all the work!"

"But L-Lucius, you said that if I didn't have anything good or interesting to say, don't say anything at all." Narcissa said meekly.

Lucius rolled his eyes menacingly.

"That doesn't apply to EVERY OCCASION woman! When politeness is due, even making a womanly squeak would justify! At least then the other person knows you exist! You're just lucky Beryl notices everything, including selective mutes like yourself!"

By this time, Lucius had gone slightly red and Narcissawas wincing at the amount of pressure her husband was putting on her shoulder.

Draco just watched and felt like the whole room was looking at them. When he had had just about enough, he said, "Why don't we do what we set out to do?"

Lucius spoke while still staring coolly into Narcissa's wide and frightened eyes.

"Yes, good idea boy. We will go see Fitzherbert. This would be a good time for your mother to make up for her anti-social behaviour."

He then dropped his hand off her shoulder and marched out of the pub.

**********

Harry had snapped awake when the Ford came to a sharp stop at the side of the Leaky Cauldron.

"Blimey... we here already?" Harry asked, wiping the sleep out of his eyes.

"This is definitely the Leaky Cauldron we use to get to Diagon Alley last time I remember. But you never know, Diagon Alley could have moved near the Malfoy Mansion, in which case then we'd be really buggered," joked Ron.

"Oh ha ha ha, very funny." Smiled Harry.

He looked at Hermione, who seemed very twitchy and on edge.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

She jumped at the sound of her name.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine, just excited! I've heard that they've brought Butterbeerto 'The Leaky Cauldron', and I'm deciding which magical-creature would be a good friend for Crookshanks! That's all!"

Harry stared at her a moment longer before getting out of the car.

The sun was so bright it took Harry awhile to adjust to it.

"So," said Ron shoving his hands in his pockets, "what shall we do now?"

"I think we should first go to Flourish and Blotts, since schoolbooks are the most important thing we need." Hermione beamed while Ron and Harry just looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "And then I suggest we go to the animal shop, and after that I'm out of ideas."

"It's all about you, isn't it Hermione?" joked Harry as he popped a cigarette in his mouth.

"W-well, I was just suggesting! I mean you guys can go off and do other things if you want, but it's what I need, and since no one had come up with any ideas, so I thought-"

But she was cut off, because Harry placing his hands on her shoulders.

He chuckled. "Hermione, I don't know what's wrong with you these days, but you're acting very odd! Whatever's bothering you, just let it go! It's the summer, relax! Have some butterbeer! Just relax."

And he walked off to Diagon Alley, Ron and Hermione tallying behind.

"If you're still worrying about what I said to you in the car, just stop because I was only clueing you in, not trying to scare the bejesus out of you! Please, I want this to be a fun summer, not another one where everyone is avoiding each other's gaze," whispered Ron out of the corner of his mouth.

They were now at the brick wall which allowed you to enter into Diagon Alley.

"So, shall we go in?" asked Harry.

The other two nodded, and Harry tapped the stones in the pattern they were always tapped in. A passageway was created for them. Hermione sighed deeply and walked through with her two best friends.

**********

It seemed to Draco that they had been walking for hours before they got to their destination. It was a little shop squished in between the invisible barrier between Diagon and KnockturnAlley. You couldn't tell what part it belonged to since the middle of the shop was on that barrier.

However when Draco and his family entered "Witchdoctor's goods", it turned out that it wasn't a shop, but an office with a little waiting room, a secretary desk and a room with a plaque reading "Dr. F Tiddlywink". Draco tried not to laugh at such a last name as 'Tiddlywink'.

This must be the Fitzherbert that Beryl was going on about, he thought.

Lucius walked up to the secretary desk and cleared his throat. The sound echoed through the entire office, bouncing off every wall. The secretary looked up from her work and gave him a quizzical look.

"Can I help you?" she asked rather bluntly.

Lucius looked down at her hard and cold.

"I believe we have an appointment with Fitzherbert right now. Yes I know there are others waiting patiently for their turn, but Fitzherbertis an old friend of mine. Could you please give him this and tell him that Lucius Malfoy has arrived." And he handed her a folded note and gave her a cocky-yet-menacing smile. The secretary just looked at him, annoyed and not amused.

Lucius stopped smiling and leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, while putting a lot of pressure on her left arm. When he finished whispering, the secretary had literally gone white and was beginning to shake.

"So go on then love. Give him this note and tell him Lucius Malfoy has arrived."

The secretary took the note and walked towards the door. Head bent, she knocked twice before the door opened. Draco couldn't see the figure that opened it, but after the door closed, he could see the faint silhouette of two figures, one that had to be Dr.Tiddlywink, and the other that was unmistakably the secretary. The candles that were lighting his room flickered a bit when she gave him the note. The man unfolded it and read it, shaking his head. He put his right hand on the secretary's shoulder and said something to her, which Draco could not hear, but guessed it was something of comfort. The secretary came back outside with her eyes slightly red.

"He'll be with you in five minutes sir."

"Thank you miss," Lucius said silkily.

**********

Every step they took around Diagon Alley, Hermione kept wondering why she was so jumpy around Harry. "He's the same person... but somehow he's different... Well of course he's different, he's older, and he's not exactly the blushing, innocent boy you first met when we were eleven... Maybe it's the smoking? No don't be daft... He's just acting like there's nothing left in the world but him, his cigarettes, and his friends to live for..." She tried reasoning her head. She would get so lost in thought that Ron would always have to steer her out of a wall she was about to walk into.

"But Ron had a point with what he said in the car. All we can do is listen. Oh god, I wish there was some text, or some way to understand what's going on. But unfortunately these aren't hormone problems." Hermione kept rambling on to herself.

"Something happened, and right now I don't think it has anything to do with Harry."

And she decided to herself that she would find out what it was.

"There must be a way," she thought lastly before stepping into the 'Magical Menagerie'.

**********

When Dr. Tiddlywinkwas ready to see him, he called Draco's name, but still didn't come out of his office. Draco got out of his chair uneasily, looking at his family. His father pressed his fingertips together and nodded for him to go on, and his mother just busied herself with a book.

Determined not to be scared of an old man, he marched into the already open door, closed it behind him and turned around to face the office. The lights were so dim that Draco had to squint to get his eyes to adjust to such a dark place. There were candelabras around the entire room, and each of them was laden with wax. A fire was blazing in the already warm room, making him wish that he wore a t-shirt instead of his sweater.

The room was decorated with antique furniture all in good condition. The walls were a deep scarlet, with gold patterns on the crown moldings. The whole thing looked quite royal when compared to the plain secretary's office.

Sitting in a chair, with the back facing Draco, sat a man with black hair that looked almost as if it matched the walls when the firelight shone on it, making it reflect shimmers of scarlet. He sat there in silence, not doing anything. Draco wondered if he should go introduce himself, but decided against it. Instead he would walk around and say something. But what do you say to someone whom you haven't seen or met before?

But before Draco could do anything, the man cleared his throat.

"Ye-" Dracosaid, but he was cut off.

"You're LuciusMalfoy's son right? Draco?" said the man in a husky, drawling voice which resembled his own a bit.

"That would be correct, unless he's been lying to me all this time, and that my real parents are endangered grindylows".

Usually people would turn around and snap at Draco for talking to them like that. But not this man. He ran his hand through his coarse, long hair.

"Quite the tongue you've got there boy. No doubt that you got it from your father, I imagine."

Dracojust stood there, not knowing what to do. For once in his life, he was feeling uncomfortable. High breeding and etiquette classes did little for how to conduct oneself while being professionally scrutinized.

The man bowed his head and sighed, long tendrils of hair falling forward.

"Well sit down then, boy, and lets see what was so necessary that I had to stop a session with someone an hour before their time was up."

Draco sat down on a long, velvet covered psychiatrists' bench and saw who the man was.

It was Fitzherbert Tiddlywink, although he didn't quite fit the short, stubby profile that Draco had thought of before. He had a long, pale face, partially covered by his dark hair. He wore a white Muggle business shirt, and as a jacket he wore a Muggle soldiers jacket instead of robes. Draco didn't feel like mocking his "interesting" clothing tastes at this particular moment, however. His dark pants were old and weathered from constant wearing. The only thing new about him, Draco pointed out to himself, was his shoes, Italian leather, newly polished. His shoes glittered in the firelight.

His pale blue eyes bored into Draco's gray ones, as if searching for an answer to an internal question he had.

Dr. Tiddlywinkpushed a long strand of hair out of his eyes and stared at Dracofor a few moments. Something about his gaze still made him uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his seat but never once lost eye contact with the psychiatrist. The only sound was the crackling fire that grew louder with each log that was magically placed on the burning pile.

"I'll try and put you at ease Draco, I'll tell you what I know of you," he started at last.

Draco slumped in his chair and shrugged gracefully. "Well then, proceed. It'll be interesting to see what stereotype you've put me in from staring at me for the past, oh, 5 minutes."

The psychiatrist continued as if he didn't hear Draco. He pulled out a sheet from a notebook and stared at it for a bit before continuing.

"You're father says you speak out of term. Your temperament seems to be that you are on edge more now than before and you seem either prone to bouts of quietude or petty rage."

Draco had a look of mock sympathy on his face. "That one little note fills you in on all that Father sees wrong? Does it also say that I slept with a doll till I was 10?"

Dr. Tiddlywinklooked up from his notes amused. "Did you?" he inquired while writing on his notepad.

Draco, somewhat forgetting that he didn't want to be there, continued. "Yeah, I had a bear called Hasta-something-or-another..." he said while waving his hands carelessly in the air, forming the outline of that bear, "that was till my father had me practice a fire-casting spell on all my childhood toys."

Tiddlywink continued to take notes. "Do you miss your childhood things?"

His patient was snapped back into reality. He scoffed and looked at his psychiatrist with mild disgust. "Hardly. How much do you make for regurgitating this drivel? Honestly."

The psychiatrist breathed deep and sighed. "You brought it up." He looked at his patient with sympathy. "Look, what is said between us stays between us. I'm not to tell your father any of this without your consent, so you can talk all you want and the furthest it'll go is my notebook."

Draco looked at him with a bit of new trust for him. "Fine. It was a year before I started at Hogwarts. I was a child... then."

"You're not anymore."

"I can't afford to be."

"Why do you feel that way?"

He didn't reply, but suddenly became very interested in the crackling fire that grew brighter by the minute.

"Is it trouble at school?"

Draco laughed, still gazing at the fire. "My housemates adore me."

Dr. Tiddlywinkgave a disbelieving snort. "Mm hmm... continue."

His patient just glared in return.

"Honestly now, are you perhaps having girl troubles?"

No reply.

"Boy troubles?"

A dark glare answered his question.

"I'll assume we'll stick to girls."

Draco scoffed. "How observant."

His psychiatrist stretched out his long arms. Draco noticed that as soon as his jacket and shirt got pushed back to about mid-arm, a tattoo of some sort began to show. Dr. Tiddlywink, noticing that Dracowas staring intently at his arm, drew back as quickly as possible, and pulled his sleeves down hastily.

"You know, Drake, I too had girl troubles when I was at school."

"No doubt. With a pick up line like 'Hi. I'm Fitzherbert Tiddlywink. I can wink your tiddly' I can see the failing."

"Why do you feel the need to mock someone's name sake?"

"Maybe because I can. Because I am Draco Malfoy and not your new little simple-minded playmate named Drake."

There was a slight pause.

The psychiatrist sighed. "I hadn't noticed."

"Do. For once, just do."

"You don't want to be here, do you, uh, Draco?"

Draco smirked. "My, but you are insightful. A diviner maybe?"

Dr. Tiddlywinkcontinued again as if he hadn't heard his patient. He quickly flipped through a few notes and read them for a bit. He looked up at his patient again. "You know that I'm to see you again..."

"Oh great, shall I bring some butterbeer and fizzing whizbeesso we can have a real party next time?"

"... to evaluate your progress..."

"Delightful. I'm so excited," he replied in a flat tone.

"You have a lot pent up in you Draco, you need a forum of release. Something I doubt you'll get from council at home."

There was silence between the two. Draco disliked highly the look of mock sympathy the psychiatrist was giving him.

"I have an idea that might help." Tiddlywink said as he fished a leather bound book from underneath his chair.

Draco eyed the book suspiciously.

"A bit of light reading? Harlequin romance maybe... "they met across the quidditch pitch" star-crossed lovers and all that rot."

Tiddlywink shook his head.

"Not really. This is a diary. I want you to write in it. It doesn't have to be daily, just at times when you most feel the need to be heard.It doesn't matter what you put in it, although, you can skip the bits about the time you over-tweezed your eyebrows. And since you can't break down that wall to reach me, try reaching yourself, and you might just be surprised at what type of person you are."

Draco snorted. "A diary?"

"Yes, Draco." Tiddlywink handed him the blank book.

"How...sentimental." He said as he pawed the leather cover.

"It's worked for greater wizards than you Draco." And with that, Tiddlywinkgot up, moved over to his desk and began to write.

"I'm sure. Is this all? Can I leave now? Have to run and tell dadums about your miracle cure and all."

"Yes, I suppose we're done...for now."

Draco stared at the book for a moment longer. "No, really, how much do you get paid for this?"

"That will be all." Tiddlywinksaid with a tone of finality in his voice.

With a nod, Dracogot up and walked towards the door, diary in hand. With one final look at the dimly lit room and the back of the man who had put up with him for the past hour, he turned the door handle and left.

**********

Authors note: and that folks... is the first of many chapters of my first fic ever! Nyah. I collect quotes and ideas like a pack rat, and this chapter, and many future chapters will be inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dark Angel, Cowboy Bebop, Coronation Street, Bridget Jones' Diary, Waking Life and the novels "Lost Between Houses" By David Gilmore, "Illusion" by Paula Volsky and "The Beast that was Max" by Gerard Houarner. And oh, yeah, the Harry Potter books. Yeah. As if you didn't know that.

Thank You: So yes, the lovely 'thank-yous'. First of all, I'd like to give thanks to the best beta-readers in the whole entire world. Here is a list of them all in order of offering/begging from me: Nicki, Val, Laura, Adi, Vanessa and Kayli. First, my two buddies Nicki and Val. I made them beta-read this for me, and they did it willingly. The ending was mainly created by the talented Val, and also by the not-so-talented (eh eh, I jest!!) Nicki. They helped to make my first chapter end on a good note, as opposed to a random one. Kudos to Val (again) for also pointing out some mistakes (what was I thinking about the Fleur thing?) Next, is my fellow HP school buddy, Tien. Tien Tien thought it was actually good, and she taunts my other friends with my fic. These three people were the only ones who knew about it for the past 6 months that it was written and have kept their word by keeping it a secret. I know it was stretching it when the chapter was created over 6 months, but it's all been worth it! Thank you guys! Laura, because she's so sweet in offering (instead of me begging) if she could beta my chapter for. Adigave her help willingly, and I couldn't be happier! I blushed many shades of pink/red when you told me that you thought my chapter was amazing. I'm truly touched. You rock. Although, our live beta didn't really turn out to be a live beta for long... long live fandom bitching! Vanessa replied to my call of a last beta and did a great job! Kayli was the final one. She offered while we were waiting for a bus, and I trust her judgement of my fic like I would trust her with my life. Besides, she's as twisted as me, so can easily relate to all the evil things I will be doing to the characters! Lasairpointed out to me that Gabrielle wouldn't work, and I give her full credit for Françoise, as she came up with the name and the idea to have an OC character. And a really, really, really special mention to Kira, who has probably made my head swell to the size of the planet with the feedback (and a bit of fangirling! :P) she's given my chapter. She's made me blush more times in a week than I have in my entire life. Well, this was a rather long thank you bit, and it will most likely be more story, less lengthy thank you next time!

Next Chapter: Harry has mood swings and smokes like twenty chimneys, Ron gets twitchy, Hermione fazes out in a pet shop and alleyway, the trio get their fortunes told, Draco gets slapped more than once, and Lucius gets twitchy himself and takes it out on Fitzherbert!