Road to Perdition

Draco's eyes sprung open. What had woken him up? He sat up in his plush monstrous bed, when he heard the noise again. Screams. His mother's. He buried his head under his pillow to drown out the sounds, squeezing his eyes shut. But no matter how hard he tried he could not shut out the horrific sounds coming from his Lucius beating his wife. Draco couldn't remember a time when his father and his mother had been happily married. He was sure that once upon a time, perhaps when Draco had been a small baby, that they were in love. But now, every corner he turned, there was Lucius' cold-steel stare, watching him. And Draco couldn't remember a time when he was happy in his own home. Yes, he had all the material possessions that any teenage boy could want, but there was one major thing that was missing that no amount of money or power could buy. Love. But there was only one thing that mattered in the Malfoy house. Power. Draco had performed marvelously since he was a small child, acting cold, and detached. But deep inside he was aching. Aching for love, understanding. Worst of all, the next summer, after his sixth year at Hogwarts, he was to be initiated. He was to be a Death Eater. It terrified him. He had heard stories about what goes on at the gatherings. Torture, murder, evil. Hearing about it was bad enough, but a year from now he would be forced to witness it, even participate in it. He knew his father wanted Draco to be like him. Cold, hard, deceiving, and detached. But it just wasn't him. Oh, he would make a fabulous actor, each move he made precise and modeled perfectly after his father. Draco would be seen in his father's eyes as abnormal, weak, and pathetic if he knew who Draco really was. What he really was. He was no Death Eater. Draco learned as a small child that being a good person at heart has consequences. Deadly ones. So there was only one thing to do. Lie. Deceive. After all, that's what he was brought up to do, right?

Draco gathered his courage to open his eyes, and pull the pillow off his head. Silence. Good. It's stopped. For now at least. He was so much like his mother. On the outside she was cold, with a voice that could turn red-hot embers to ice in a matter of milliseconds. But her eyes were what set her apart from Lucius. When she talked to Draco in the ice-cold voice, her eyes sent a message completely different from her words. The light blue-gray eyes assured Draco that he was a good child, that she was proud of him. Most of all they shone with love. And Draco has always remembered, and appreciated that. Luckily, Lucius never saw the expression in her eyes. She always hung her head around him, except in public, where they had to keep up the perfect family image. Even so, if he had ever seen the expression of love in her eyes, he would not recognize it. He would did not know what love was.

Draco counted in his head. Good, only two days until he returns to Hogwarts. No matter how much he sneered at the teachers, headmaster, and the school in general, it was the only place that felt remotely like home. But there was no place where he could really be himself. And who he really was would not please his father. Most summer days he stayed in his room, or walked the Malfoy estate, mostly to avoid his father. Oh how he despised his father. His father disgusted him. Cowardice.

Draco had made up his mind. He would talk to Dumbledore this year. He would become a spy. There was no other way out.

Draco stood on the platform staring at the steaming train. He was finally going back to Hogwarts. The ride to the station was cold, as usual. But that didn't matter now. Yes he was just as alone at Hogwarts as he was at home, with no real friends. But the main reason he liked the school so much was the absence of his father.

"Well, well. Look who it is, Draco I-Love-Me Malfoy," sneered a voice behind him.

Draco turned around and narrowed his ice-blue eyes at the group standing behind him. Great, just fabulous. He really didn't feel like dealing with Granger, Potter, and Weasley, who had made the snide remark. But wait, there was another redhead in the bunch. A younger Weasley that he never really paid attention to before. She was maybe three or four inches shorter than him, With big, brown eyes, Fire-red hair flowing in cascading curls down her back, and she had a sprinkling of freckles on her tanned face.

Luckily he shook himself out of his reverie before any of them could realize that he was staring at Ginny.

"Why so snarky sparky? Got a Nimbus up your ass? Oh, wait, nevermind. You couldn't afford one," Draco shot back.

Draco turned and climbed on the train, not wanting to prolong the conversation. As he settled himself in his seat, next to his right hand thug, Goyle, he stared out the window. Draco pondered how changes Ginny had become. She wan't small and skinny anymore. "Well," he thought, "it looks like this year will be fun." The train puffed out of the station and Draco closed his eyes, anticipating the arrival at Hogwarts.