Star-Cross'd

Chapter One

A dark cemetery, secluded in its own fog, sat on the edge of London. It was around midnight, in the middle of July. It was still chilly and the air was damp, leaving little beads of water sliding down the cold tombstones. All the graves there dated back to as late as the 1800s, so none of the citizens really cared to visit there any more.

Well, none of the Muggle citizens, any way.

There were a group of maybe fifteen people gathered there around the large stone angel with the sad eyes holding her arms out before her in melancholy. They were witches and wizards in black cloaks, the hoods pulled far over their heads and shading their pale faces. They had formed a circle around the angel, but not to gaze into her stony depression. They were giving their attention to the wizard sitting at her side.

His pale, spider-like hands were the only body parts visible with his hooded cloak on. In his left he held a long, black wand. He was seated on the stone casket to the angel's side, and another hooded figure, this one shorter than the others, was standing behind him. It was dead silent.

"Lucius Malfoy," the wizard hissed in a high-pitched voice that sounded like a muffled scream. He was obviously not very well of health.

One of the hooded figures stepped forward out of the crowd, and stood wordlessly. His caller turned his head to him. "You have been selected to help carry out our plan," he said, and Lucius bowed his head and waited for him to continue. "You are well aware of our goal?"

"Yes, my Lord," he finally drawled at the hint that he was allowed to speak.

The other hooded figure conjured a terribly evil smile. "Excellent. And you have a plan of action already, I hear?"

"Yes, my Lord," he repeated again.

The hooded figure nodded his head slightly. "See that it doesn't fail. I am regaining my strength. I am quite eager to be able to walk again."

Lucius bowed his head again, and the other witches and wizards behind them pulled up their sleeves. There were black markings on their wrists of the Dark Mark--the sign of the death eaters. They turned their heads back up to the wizard in the center of the circle as he threw back his hood.

It revealed Voldemort, the Dark Lord. His pale skin looked sickly, and parts of it were missing the skin entirely. The Death Eater behind him stood up straight. Apparently he was to watch and take care of the wizard of ill health.

Voldemort smiled wryly. "This year I will finally kill Harry Potter."

* * *

Draco Malfoy stood leaned up against the wall of Platform 9¾, staring dully out ahead of him. He was watching a girl and someone he supposed was her father walking towards the train to take them back to their almost-a-year home: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The girl and man walked by him, and she heard him say, "Oh, Uncle Kiel, I almost forgot," and pull out a piece of paper from her pocket and hand it to him.

She was dressed like a Muggle, and Draco sneered. Her jeans were loose and she had a black tee shirt on that read The Juliana Theory, whatever that was. He hadn't seen many Muggles dressed like that either, with their too many studded bracelets, hair dyed unnatural colors (hers was the color of a raspberry), and her black-rimmed rectangle glasses reminded him of that great prat, Saint Potter. Though his were a bit geekier. And...good Merlin, did she have plaid shoes on? The rest they said was inaudible as they walked away, laughing about whatever it had been.

"Look at them." His father's sneering voice had caused him to jump a little. He had a bad habit of just appearing out of nowhere. "Dressed like Muggles...I'll bet that's exactly what he is, and she's a Gryffindor mudblood."

Draco glanced up at Lucius, but remained silent. His long white hair was tied with a black ribbon, and he was dressed as a rich wizard should be: in all black with a cane, gloves, and a long black cape.

Draco took much pride in being a Malfoy.

His father turned his head to look at him. "Draco, I need to speak with you before you leave."

This was a bit of a shock: his father wasn't the most loving creature in the world. In fact, he hardly paid much attention to his son because he was always running off somewhere with the Ministry. Or the Death Eaters, take your pick. Still, Draco managed to keep the surprised look off his face, and again said nothing as he turned to look up at Lucius.

"I need your help."

This was even more of a shock. Lucius never asked for his son's help. Never.

"I've come up with a plan to get that poor excuse for a wizard, Dumbledore, as well as the mudbloods out of Hogwarts," he glanced around the train station as he spoke, as if someone was listening to their conversation. "For good."

Draco's ears seemed to perk up. He shared his father's hate for Dumbledore and for the mudbloods. And any chance to help his neglecting father and perhaps gaining his approval for once meant a good deal to Draco.

"I need you to find someone who's close to Potter. And I need you to get close to them."

"What?" Draco's outburst was so sudden that it even took him back. He caught his father's warning eye and lowered his head. After a moment, Lucius went on.

"I need you to get close to them, and then find out as much as you can about Potter. Anything will help at all, I don't care how minute. You will report everything to me by owl, and you will keep following my orders until I say otherwise. Understood?"

Draco took note on how fast his fathers call for help soon turned into the same drill sergeant orderings he was used to. Heaving a sigh, he finally spoke.

"What exactly will this do to help your plan to get rid of the mudbloods?"

Lucius' face froze over and he stood up straight again. "That will come later, if at all. Do we have an agreement?"

He searched his face for a long time, and finally gave in and nodded his head... anything to get rid of that mudblood loving git, Dumbledore. A small smile played his father's icy face, and the train's whistle sounded. Lucius nodded his head in its direction and then turned away and walked off without so much as a goodbye.

Draco watched him leave and turned around and boarded the train. His belongings were already in place, and it didn't take long for his cronies Crabbe and Goyle to find him and join him in a compartment. It also didn't take long for the door to open and reveal Scarhead, Weasel and Granger--I mean Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Oh. Guess this is taken," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Draco put on a mock-surprised face. "Wow, Weasley! I guess we can't fool you!" He received the usual snicker from Crabbe and Goyle, who weren't the most intelligent people in the world, so that was about all they ever said.

Ron's foot was in the door; he was already about to fight Draco before they even got to school. Hermione, the one who had been sensible for the six years that she had known her two friends, put her hand on his shoulder. "Stop it, Ron," she said warningly. "He's not even worth it."

"Says the girl who slapped me across the face," Draco said, recalling their third year when Hermione had done just that. He saw her turn a little pink, but she just turned around and stormed out. Ron followed after, and Harry was last to shut the door behind him, but not without meeting Draco's eyes with the glare they were all so familiar with. He returned it with his patented sneer, and the door shut.

"Stupid mudbloods," he mumbled to himself, and looked out the window as the train whistle sounded again. They started to pull out of the station, and he began to wonder what his father's real plan was, and why he wouldn't tell his own son about it.

During the sorting that night, a few new students that weren't first years were sorted in. Three of them were boys, two of which were sorted into Ravenclaw, and the last into Slytherin. The last two were both girls, one was the girl with the raspberry hair he had seen at the train station, who was, sure enough, sorted into Gryffindor. He smirked to himself as he remembered what his father had said. The last one, who appeared to be a little ditzy or just plain confused, was sorted into Hufflepuff.

How suiting, Draco thought, as the other sparkly-shiny girls in Hufflepuff cheered and screeched loudly when she was sorted into their house, as if they had just won some kind of beauty pageant.

He shook his head and looked down at the Gryffindor table. Saint Potter had just offered the new girl a place to sit between he and Granger. He shook his head, rolled his eyes and did his best to enjoy the rest of his meal with Pansy Parkinson staring at him like he was a particularly delicious looking dessert on the buffet himself.

The first day of classes came as it did every year: a bunch of awestruck first years walking through the halls as if they didn't know how to go any faster than a dull trod, nearly making Draco late for class. A few times he actually pushed the Gryffindors over, and managed to knock one girl completely over, which he shared a good laugh over with that annoying Pansy Parkinson girl and Crabbe and Goyle.

They made their way to the dungeon, and in Draco's opinion, the best class. That was probably just because Scarhead was taught the humility he needed from the Professor, and also head of the Slytherin house: Snape. Then of course there was Neville Longbottom, who got his share of embarrassment. He always managed to have this class with the Gryffindors every year, which made it more enjoyable, surprisingly.

They had just rounded the corner, when they--Draco more so than the others--ran right in to some stupid girl. They both fell back and their books and papers spilled all over the floor.

They looked at one another, nothing less than livid, and Draco recognized her as the girl with the raspberry hair from the train station.

"Watch where you're going!" they both shouted at the same time. Gathering their books, they stood up and glared at each other. For a long time they just stared, debating whether or not to pull out their wands, and then finally Draco started walking again.

"Mudblood," he muttered, breezing past her.

"Dumbass," she growled; her accent sounded Irish. She flipped him off behind his back, stood up and flipped a piece of hair behind her ear. No doubt that was Draco Malfoy. And apparently he earned his name as biggest prick in the world.

He walked the rest of the way down the hall, and finally reached the dungeon. He strode into class just before the bell rang and took the only empty seat in front of Blaise, and next to the boys sorted into his house the night before. He heard her mumble something about how this was the best class as he took his seat, and allowed himself to turn around and smirk dangerously at her. Egotistical? No, of course not... it was just awareness of one's self-beauty. Within seconds he had forgotten all about his incident with Raspberry.

Snape stormed in a few seconds later, and the classroom was suddenly colder. The Professor strode right up to his desk as he always did, and turned around to face the class in a swift movement.

"No welcome will be given, because I'm sure you are all quite aware of where you are, and know enough about Potions in this class. Those of you who don't," he cast a glare at Neville, earning a snickers from the Slytherins, "will have to ask one of the more attentive students." He scanned the Slytherin half of the room (the students had gotten into the habit of coming into the class and seating themselves in their respectable halves as the years had gone by).

"Today," he said, and waved his wand at the board in the back of the class, "we will begin studying a very difficult potion; the Vereormus."

From across the room, Draco saw Granger's eyes light up. Apparently the little mudblood knew this potion.

"Since it is so complex, I will only begin by assigning reading and writing essays to be handed in the next day. When we actually begin the potion, it will take approximately a month and a half to prepare, and you will all be assigned partners, whom I have yet to choose," his expression became irritated, "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"What exactly does this potion do?"

Draco rolled his eyes. That's it, Scarhead; get the Professor in a bad mood. You are quite the little genius, aren't you?

Snape sighed. "Well, Mr Potter. If you would have let me finish, I would have said: the Vereormus Potion causes its drinker to hallucinate and see his or her most greatest fear,"--Harry's hand shot up in the air again and Draco nearly choked on his sigh--"Yes, Mr Potter, it is quite similar to a Boggart, only this one is a hallucination, therefore the Riddikulus spell would do nothing against it." He had known Potter's question before it had even been asked, and a few of the Slytherins snickered again as he turned a deep color of scarlet. "It only disappears when the potion wears off. Until then, you will hallucinate and see your fears."

There was silence and finally, Potter, in all his genius, timidly put his hand up in the air again. Draco saw Granger bury her face in her hands and groan quietly to herself.

"About an hour or more, Mr Potter." Snape said, even though his back was to him.

Needless to say, Snape assigned extra homework aside from reading up on the Vereormus Potion due to his sudden worse-than-bad mood. Draco was about to say something to Harry about it being his fault, when the boy who was put into their house just the night before reached him first.

"Smooth one, Potter."

He stopped and turned around, looking angrily at Draco, but was surprised to see that the one standing before him with the smirk was definitely not him. He blinked.

Draco looked just as surprised. Someone else was taking his time to terrorize Potter?

"Who are you?" Harry asked him.

Yes, who are you? Impostor! Draco thought angrily.

The boy smiled proudly. "Vincent Walsch," he said, as if they were supposed to be very familiar with that name. Harry stared at him blankly, and he went on. "So the legendary Boy Who Lived was also the boy who landed us all extra homework. Hmm, it's as I thought." And he started to walk away.

"What do you mean it's as you thought?" Harry shouted, ignoring Hermione's pleads to just ignore him. Everyone who had just left Potions class was watching them now.

Vincent turned around and shrugged. "Just that you really are as stupid as you look."

Oh come on! Draco thought. That was the worst comeback I've ever heard of! Potter, not even you could be thickheaded enough to... Draco's thoughts trailed off when he saw the angered look on Harry's face. What am I thinking, this is Potter we're talking about.

In a matter of seconds, he had his wand out and aimed at Vincent. But it was he the Draco impostor who sent off a spell first.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Vincent cried.

Harry moved out of the way and it hit Parvati Patil right in the stomach. She fell on her back, completely expressionless as the body-binding spell kicked in. Lavender Brown, who had been standing next to her, took out her wand. She aimed it back at Vincent and shouted "Concidonus!"

A spark of white light hit him in the arm and he fell back several yards, but a part of it also hit Pansy Parkinson and she did the same. It was only a few minutes later that everyone in the Slytherin and Gryffindor sixth year--save Hermione, of course--were casting spells at each other in the hallway. It was also a matter of minutes until Professor McGonagall, who had been in the hallway, ran to the fight scene and Snape came out of his classroom and did the same.

Raspberry apparently hadn't thought she had gotten even with Draco for their incident in the hall, and they were both aiming their wands at each other when the Professors came out. However, as soon as they saw the look on their faces, they forgot their anger and put the wands away as quickly as they could.

"What," Professor McGonagall spat, "is the meaning of this?"

Silence.

"Who started this?"

All eyes fell on Harry and Vincent. Harry was sporting a nice black eye from who-knows-what spell was cast on him, and Vincent had boils all over his face. McGonagall still looked livid.

"Everyone is to report to your houses immediately. Professor Snape and I will discuss this. If we return and there is anyone missing from his or her house, we will personally give you extra detention. Yes, Mr Longbottom, you are excused to go to the hospital wing. Everyone else, however, head back."

Everyone turned to look at Neville, who as usual, got the worst end of things, and was now missing all the bones in his left arm. A few people gave him sympathetic looks, and then trudged up to their houses. Draco and Raspberry gave each other a final glare, and stormed away. It was the first day of school, and they were already unspoken enemies.

Up in the Gryffindor common room, Professor McGonagall had everyone seated before. She was lecturing them on how ridiculous the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor was becoming.

"You are all students attending school, not mortal enemies," she had said. Harry, among others, looked like he wanted to strangle her.

After a firm lecture, she took in a deep breath. "Your punishment," she said, casting strict glances around the students, "Will be this. You will all serve detention for two weeks, and you and a member from the opposite house will have a certain classroom assigned to you to serve your time. We have already chosen the list of pairings, which will begin tomorrow. Also, in any class you have with Slytherin, you will be given new seating charts. You will be seated next to that same person from the opposite house. Any fighting like today will result in immediate suspension."

There was a collective groan from the Gryffindors, which only seemed to make her even madder. "The reason we are being so strict," she explained, "Is because you are all in your sixth year now. You should know better than to start children's fights in the hallways because someone called you a name."

She looked at Harry for a moment, and then took another breath. "Your parents have been informed, and--Mr Weasley, are you alright?"

Ron had made a choking noise at the mention of his parents being sent an owl, and turned to the color of milk. He merely nodded his head, and Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically. His mum was scary when she was mad.

After his angry speech, Snape had hung up a notice in the Slytherin common room to tell who their seating partners from the opposite house would be. They had obviously paired up them up by who had been fighting with each other, because Harry and Victor were partners, as were Lavender and Pansy. He tried to recall who he was aiming his wand at when the Professors had walked out, but his mind drew a blank. Suddenly, he blinked and a wave of realization came over him. He didn't have to put up with this! He was a Malfoy!

This was absurd! He would be forced to spend time with...with a mudblood! What was Snape thinking? Draco always figured him to be his favorite Professor at school but this was crossing the line.

He walked up to the Professor. "Sir--" but he didn't even finish his sentence before Snape started talking.

"I know, Malfoy. But at least you're not paired up with Potter." He seemed to have some kind of ESP that day. Turning on his heel, he strode out of the room before Draco could get a second word in.

Sighing, he just walked up to the now vacant board where the list had been pinned. Scanning down, he saw that Weasel was paired with Pansy, and gave a little snicker. Finally, he reached his name.

Draco Malfoy and Deirdre Riordan

He squinted his eyes. Who was... he didn't even know how to pronounce it. Well, besides a filthy mudblood, obviously. He heaved a sigh and put his hands on the back of his head. He didn't pay any attention to the names of the Gryffindors. He moaned at the thought of having to serve a detention alone with this Deirdre character, too. They were all the same to him any way. Well, he'd find out in Transfiguration class with that old wench McGonagall.

Heaving another sigh, he stepped out the door and headed down to lunch.

And what kind of name was Deirdre, any way?