Sweet Resolve

Malfoys do not partake in public displays of affection. This being the case, Narcissa Malfoy simply patted her son on the shoulder, wished him a successful new term, and turned to depart from the train station. Draco, as any well-trained Malfoy would do, just as simply accepted her wishes with gratitude. However, on a sudden and almost undetectable whim, swiftly grasped her hand, gave it a light squeeze, and released it, turning to board the Hogwart's Express without even one glance back. Narcissa's hand fell slowly to her side, the warmth of her hand spreading to wrap around her heart for a single moment, and then she, too, walked away without a glance.

~~~

The train ride itself was mostly uneventful. The only scene worth noting was the incessant barrage of noise coming from the dynamic duo, Weasel and Granger, as they argued over their beloved little Potter before the train had departed.

Draco didn't even bother joining his usual cohorts in crime, the 6^th year Slytherins. However, what you desperately try to avoid usually always finds you instead, and within minutes his compartment door had opened to allow an overgrown Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson inside. Pansy at once threw herself beside Draco, hoping that her grown out blond tresses would attract him as much as his platinum hair attracted her.

"Pansy, dear, must I remind you that I would prefer not to have to rush to Madam Pomfrey due to an allergic reaction from that mop you call hair?" Apparently her hair had the opposite reaction as desired, and Pansy reluctantly pulled away, but continued to bat her long fake eyelashes at him at intervals.

Goyle and Crabbe had deposited themselves across, and were already busy stuffing their mouths with chocolates that their parents had left them with.

"Draco, you should go see.... Blaise stole that ... Longbottom buffoon's toad and is threatening to ... turn it into chocolate and feed it to Crabbe," Goyle mumbled between bites.

"Ha, not like I'd eat it, I only like chocolate frogs..." Vincent chimed.

"Vince, toads and frogs are pretty much the same thing you dolt." Draco was already getting annoyed, especially with Pansy trying to seductively toss her hair from side to side, the girl was liable to get whiplash soon.

"Oh, really? In that case, yum..."

Draco was already feeling suffocated, and he had more fascinating things to consider than whether Blaise would or would not give that Forgetful Longbottom a real scare. "As enticing as this conversation has already become, I need you all to shut up. Completely. You can either find some sniveling first years to paralyze with fears, or better yet, hexes, or you can sit here, and remain in utter silence while I plot out the demonic and untimely death of anyone who enjoys dipping french fries in ice cream!"

"Uhh Draco... are you serious about the fry thing, cuz -"

"No, Goyle, I'm not. Everything else though, that was true. So decide if you like your lives or you would prefer to become a mutilated fly that I'll feed to that infernal toad of Longbottom's."

In a flash, the entire booth was empty, save for the young master of deviousness, his trademark smirk creeping up, and arms crossed in utter triumph and for once, joy. Immediately, he retrieved a dilapidated book from his trunk. Though its musty worn down leather exterior denoted years and years of decay and misuse, once opened one would find the most illustrious history book, with pages and pages and pages about the true unbiased history between wizards and muggles. Draco had found the extensive tome in his father's study, in a compartment beneath his desk. After only a few pages did he realize why his father had this eye opening literature hidden from all the wizarding world. Some things were best kept under proper supervision.

Draco had become enthralled with it ever since he had returned from his visit to Azkaban. He wanted to know EVERYTHING that ever happened in this world. He wanted to know about every bloody war, and every bloody invention. His mind would not rest until it was armed with the most lethal weapon- knowledge. Because only those who understand the past can truly walk away from it unscathed. And Draco absolutely loathed being damaged in any form at all.

Ha, in that case it would be best not to think about this summer, then...

His tutors had been remarkably unkind after his recovery from the first muggle death he had rendered. But Draco had dazzled them with his ability to take on more and more hexes, to throw out more curses, and to marvel at the glory of the Dark that smoked from the tip of his wand.

At night however, the marvelling turned into painful moans. He was forever branded with the visions of each muggle's desperate expression as he or she writhed in agony. He watched in his mind as each soul slowly and gut-wrenchingly contorted on the muddy ground, smearing their body with the blood of previous victims. He could not erase the memory from his dreams of seeing his tutors find pleasure from the squirming, how their eyes filled with lust at what they considered an erotic dance with death. Almost every morning he awoke, panting and groaning, trying to smash those images, trying but never succeeding.

At any rate, maybe now with the preoccupation of school, he could carry on semi-normally. So Draco read onwards. Just as he was reaching an interesting chapter about the visions of special sorcerers, the train lurched a little.

At first Draco thought it was just a bump in the tracks but then suddenly a loud howling coursed through the train, practically scraping at each door, and smashing windows open. He heard students running into the hall to find out what was going on, and teachers yelling at everyone to return to their seats while trying to fix the damage. Eventually, the damage ended, but the howling had been reduced to a sad almost indistinct melody. Draco was completely baffled. Was the Dark Lord up to something? Why? This was so random.

Draco could not help himself any longer, insatiable curiosity starting to weigh down on his shoulders, so he finally opened the door, at which moment Crabbe, Goyle, pansy and Blaise all stumbled in, thankful that Draco had finally had his share of alone time.

He didn't bother hearing their stories, he just left the compartment for them to calm down in, and strode down the hallway, finally resting his eyes on what could only have been the cause of everyone's problem. Potter.

It had not gone unnoticed by Draco that Harry Potter, savior of all that was pure and good in this world, had experienced many many changes this summer. The most obvious was his sudden physique- it seemed that wonder boy had been doing some training of his own. Draco cringed at the image of him having a jolly wonderful time playing with the Weasels all summer, but that notion was immediately extinguished when he had seen Potter's demeanor with his friends.

Complete and utter indifference. The stark reality hit him when he saw how Potter dismissed their grotesque acts of affection with a simple shrug- but he was quick to note that Potter was hiding something, because deep in his eyes, there was a flicker of wanting, yearning, and despair.

What the hell was up with this boy? Draco had expected his friends to run after him and pester him more, or at least try to get to the heart of the matter- because surely they had seen that glint in his eyes... but no, shockingly they were more comfortable arguing with each other.

Curious. Potter's own cronies had no idea what was going on in his head. No idea at all.

Not like Draco knew, but he at least saw something they didn't- that Potter hated the doting. He cringed every time someone patted his shoulders or gave him a pitying smile. And why should he receive any of that to begin with?! He was the one who sent Draco's father to prison! He was the one who survived the Dark Lord time and time again! But deep down Draco knew there was more suffering on Potter's part, there had to have been, to have created such emptiness in the once vibrant emeralds.

But Potter, he wanted someone to treat him... like himself. And Draco never stepped down from a challenge. So He could probably use this new development... yes Draco would use Potter's new situation for his own purposes. And if it just happened that he ended on Potter's good side, in a manner of speaking, then all the more power to Draco.

~~~

Draco had left Potter thoroughly confused. Good, he ought to be. I won't make anything easy for him. Not now, not ever. He had returned to his own compartment, and decided to lower himself to chatting with Millicent, one of the only bearable members of the group, for the remainder of the trip. He occasionally glanced out the window of his compartment to see Potter still sitting, shoulders slightly slumped forward, rubbing the knuckles of one of his hands over and over, as if he had punched something. But there were no marks, there was no blood, there was no one crying, and all the walls were still intact.

Draco couldn't help but wonder what in heaven's name was going through the troubled Scar head's mind...

~~~

So that's what a thestral looks like, Draco mused as they were pulled to Hogwarts by the winged beasts. The sight of each muscle going taut and relaxing as the wings gracefully flapped was a bit too graphic for Draco's tastes, so he resigned himself to sneering at Pansy's pathetic attempts at wooing Blaise now.

During the welcoming feast, Draco had been paying inordinate amounts of attention to the Sorting ritual to save himself from more mind numbing ravings between Crabbe and Pansy. When he was finally turning back to tell them both to shut up else he'd hex their brains out of their noses when two things caught his eyes. Firstly, Potter was separate from his two whiny bodyguards, and in fact was not accepting looks from anyone except for the toad boy... Neville. Draco supposed that their little argument was anything but little. This will be interesting...

However, secondly, and possibly a bit more curious was how Blaise had reacted when Pansy spilled some pumpkin juice on his robes. She had tried to pry them off of him, not wanting the juice to soak through and make him all sticky. However, instead oh just shoving her aside and paying no attention, Blaise almost shrieked and yanked himself away from her, as if her touch had burned him. He straightened his robes and caressed his sleeves, and then continued as if nothing had happened. Draco would have to keep an eye on this character. They had been good friends once, but after fourth year and the rise of Voldemort they drifted apart a little. Draco was not sure if it was because Blaise was not a follower in the dark lord, or if he was too much of a follower.

Yes, Draco would keep an eye on him, at least when Blaise was deemed worthy enough to occupy Draco's thoughts.

And so the feast ended, and they set off to their dorms. Draco immediately slid into bed after changing into his soft silk pajamas, thinking about what adventures and missions lay ahead this year.

It was promising to be an eventful term.

Slowly he fell into the first peaceful sleep in ages, dreaming about climbing stone walls and flying into the blue sky towards the heavenly orbs above.

~~~

The next morning was tiresome. Harry had somehow managed to make it to the Great Hall without incident, but upon reaching there, he saw his two former friends sitting and doing nothing but seemingly awaiting his arrival. Harry subconsciously massaged his knuckles that had been throbbing, and gathered whatever supposed gryffindor courage he was supposed to have, and sat across from them.

Voldemort's got nothing on the stabbing glares these two are giving me. Harry chuckled at the image of Voldemort taking lessons from Hermione on how to successfully glare someone to death.

"How nice to see you having a laugh at our pain, Harry," Hermione snapped.

"Now look Hermione, I can be amused by anything I want, and this time it had noth-" Harry began to say but was quickly cut off.

"No no, just be quiet. You're right, and in fact it's much better for you to be amused by something than to be moping about here and there. So I forgive you for your behavior yesterday. I know you must be under a lot of pressure, though I wish you would consider relieving the load a little by talking to us. But it's ok. Here look, our schedules have arrived." Ahh clever Hermione, thinking the conversation was over and she had made her point so everyone could move on.

Harry picked up his schedule, scanned it, groaning inwardly hat he shared three classes with the slytherins this year. Then he grabbed a slice of toast, rose from his seat and addressed hermione-

"You cannot begin to imagine the kind of pressure I am under. Nor can you imagine what it has taken for me to get to the point I have reached now. So please, don't forgive me for actions I have no apology for. You wish I would tell you about the horrors that plague my mind? How about the fact that I wish you would consider keeping your mouth shut for once and actually thinking what another person may be feeling, just once. I know it's hard for you, but pry your nose out of a book for once and actually consider the human emotion."

Harry surprised himself by how easily this all flowed form his mouth. There wasn't so much of malice in it as indifference. Harry was beginning to think he wouldn't have to pretend so much with his friends. His love for them was always there, but he was hardening to their pathetic advances.

Ron finally chimed in. "Harry... mate... we're sorry. You're right, we don't understand. But how can we? We don't really even know what happened last year completely. But look, just try to lighten up a bit. We've got a whole year of more adventures to come..."

"No Ron, that's where you're wrong. Your adventure ends here." Harry said this so naturally that he could have been commenting on the weather, but the stern look in his face was not lost on them. They saw it then- he really was pushing them out of his life.

"Harry, you don't know what you're saying! Please... If You-Know-Who has been doing someth-"

"For God's sake Hermione! I don't have time for this! Just drop it, this is over. I'll see you in class, or at least Ron. It seems the fates aren't kind to me at all, First thing is Divination." Harry strode away, but not out of the Hall. Instead he sauntered to the Faculty table, and stood directly in front of Snape. They spoke at such quiet tones though, that not even the professors by Snape could make out what they were discussing.

Snape eventually stood and followed Harry out of the Hall, and the silence that had fallen in the great Hall erupted with commotion. Hermione and Ron were at odds with each other, once again complaining that the other never handled Harry properly, that he was pulling away for some reason and that the other person kept screwing it up. Their fellow Gryffindors all stood and left the table to find some peace elsewhere, not wanting to observe how Ron's ears were the same color as his hair, and Hermione's voice sounded like a banshee.

Only one head had continued to stare at the doors of the great hall after their departure- and his stormy gray eyes were thundering with questions that NEEDED to be answered. And they would be, by Snape, if he played his cards right.

And Malfoys always played their cards right.

~~~

"Are you MAD, Mr. Potter! To approach me! In front of everyone! In complete civility no less! Have you lost your mind completely!" Severus Snape towered over Harry, his greasy hair falling into his burning expression. Harry did not comment on how Snape was liable to eat his hair if he continued to lean forward like that.

"You do realize that there are little minions of Voldemort's in that crowd, don't you? That they will at once question and report to him if they see you speaking to me with such ease! Why.. why are you being so civil anyway? What in Merlin's name do you want, boy?" Snape could be intimidating by just breathing, but Harry would not falter.

"I'm sorry, I should have thought that through. But I needed to ask you a favor. A few to be more precise, but for now I just want to request.. that perhaps... we could start Occlumency again?" Harry paused to let the question sink in, and before allowing Snape to make some snappy insult on how he blew his chances, Harry pressed onward. "Yours were the only letters this summer that spoke complete truth to me. You really know how to set a kid straight. I'm just saying... that I need this. I admit it, I need your help, and as much as it pains me to say this, you are the only person I can imagine dealing with."

If Harry wanted to sound completely like a pathetic git he would have ended it there, to let Snape gloat on how he was finally getting the best of the Potters. But Harry WAS a Potter, and just as Malfoys have rules, so do the Potters. No one ever got the best of them.

"Besides, consider it as payment, returning the favor of my father saving your life. You owe him, and consequently me, that much." Harry smirked and his brows raised in anticipation to what horrors would erupt from Snape's mouth. So long as there was an assent to his request amid all the ranting, he would be pleased.

Harry was not let down. Gryffindor started the term with negative fifty points, and Harry started the term with a year's worth of detention consisting of occlumency and a deep cleansing of the potions laboratory.

Harry left the dungeons and walked to class very pleased with himself.

~~~

Divination passed without incident, except for the usual prediction of Harry's untimely demise, this time by a herd of Hairy back fanged hump-backed salamanders, to which everyone snickered. Though Harry found no insult or truth to such visions, he could not find the humor in it either- Death was not something to be trifled with, and he was becoming less and less focused in class. Harry discovered that the smoky sleepy quality of the air in the classroom pushed his mind to dwell much more easily on the dreams that had been haunting him. All too soon class was over though, and he gathered his supplies and left.

Ron and the other gryffindors, while not speaking to him, did follow closely behind, much like bodyguards did. Harry noted that ridding them of concern would be a bit harder than just some well-played arguments.

Magical History had a greater lethargic affect on the students, but Harry was for once interested in the subject matter. Instead of focusing on Goblin wars and the lifestyles of the 15^th century giants, they were going to delve into a more advanced analysis and study of the era of Mages, the most powerful sorcerers ever, but whose existence dwindled over time as the masses felt ever more threatened by the awe inspiring and frightful depths of their pools of magic.

The rest of the day was uneventful, until the advent of dinner on the energy sapped students of Hogwarts.

While Harry was munching away on roasted chicken and potatoes in silence, not even heeding the presence of his dormmates, a silence fell upon the entire Hall. Only then did Harry look up, to see everyone frozen in their seats staring at the ceiling, hypnotized by the events erupting before their eyes.

The enchanted ceiling, made to depict the weather outside, had suddenly turned pitch black. Out of nowhere, glowing masses came from the corners and became larger and larger, until everyone could see that they were actually Dragons- primed to strike on all the students. Just as quickly as the entered view, they just as mysteriously departed, and the sky returned to its blue brilliance, but all the stars had been dulled to a softer hue, as if trying to hide from the evils that were bound to return someday.

Harry shot his head all over the Hall, assessing the reactions of the kids- no one moved, there was not even any sort of gossip or commotion. It seemed as if the Blackness that had entered for the short time had infiltrated their hearts and minds, daring them to move and shatter their souls from the emptiness it procured. Harry was not affected, although a little voice in his head told him it would be wise to consider the consequences of showing his strength...

He stared at the slytherin table. What he saw surprised him. Even Draco Malfoy, though without a look of fear or horror, had remained still, until his eyes fell and attached themselves to Harry's, where Green and Gray molded for an instant into one. Harry finally snapped back into reality, cursing himself for allowing any sort of bond form with Malfoy, when the events of the train ride flooded back to him... but just as quickly as he remembered that, he saw that Blaise Zabini was not at the table. Something to remember indeed.

Right when the tension was primed for bursting, frantic shock branded on every student's face, Dumbledore rose from his seat and addressed the crowd. All the staff had been conferring during the unmitigated silence.

"My dear students! The events that have been played upon our ceiling is not entirely real, but rather a dramatic effect of the emotions running through out the wizarding world and throughout nature itself.

"In light of this new development, the entire faculty has agreed on the following rules and precautions to take effect in the morning.

" First- there will be no quidditch cup this year," to which the entire school groaned in disappointment, "Which means no practices, no games, nothing. It is understood that children cannot stay trapped indoors constantly, so there will be monitored times throughout the week to spend outside, doing all the activities that youth brings with ease, but only to a point.

"Secondly, in the following classes, Defense against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Magical Creatures, students will be paired up. You may find that your curriculum between most of your classes have a similar focus or concept, so you will have the same partner through each of these classes. This will promote both interhouse relations, and a greater understanding of your studies as it is applied to the outside world. Please once dinner is over, head to your dormitories and do not venture out of it tonight." Dumbledore shared a knowing glance with the Gryffindor trio.

Harry could see all the Gryffindors on the verge of heart attacks because each of those classes they shared with the Slytherins. Harry knew for a fact who his wonderful partner would be. At which moment, Malfoy arched his eyebrow and sent Harry a smirk that almost knocked him off his chair. Harry had no idea what to expect from Malfoy, but he was sure he would step up to the challenge, so he rolled his eyes in Malfoy's direction.

"Harry..." Ginny hesitantly spoke up, "I'm sorry you'll be paired with Malfoy eh? I'm sure Ron and 'Mione and everyone will have you back though. Don't worry about it, ok?" Her genuine concern was too saccharine sweet for Harry's liking.

"Ginny, word of advice. Mind your own business. You wouldn't want anyone to think you too are involved with my well-being, in case they decide to sabotage your pretty little life once more." Harry knew Ginny never fully recovered from the trauma's of her first year, but she had still developed into a funny and sweet young girl. However, this blow was a bit too sensitive for her.

"Harry... geez, what's your problem?? Fine! I hope no one gives a damn about you then!" Her welled up eyes were vying for release, but Ginny would not cry in front of her friends, so she fled the Hall with as much dignity as she could muster.

Ron's face was getting closer and closer to resemble a tomato, and Harry had no plans on dealing with them again, so he rose out of his seat, and after casting upon them a look of utter apathy, he strode out like a stallion.

Ron was about to charge after him, his eyes seeing as much red as his hair depicted, but a strong arm fell on him, holding him back. Neville spoke.

"Ron, it won't do any good. He's just coping, I'm sure. Let it be."

But Ron would not let it be, not in the future. And somehow his grumbling and mutterings spawned a reaction out of Hermione, as usual, and they were at each other's throats once more. Their only line of common ground was that Ginny did nothing wrong, and Harry would have to suffer.

The storm brewing in their midst reflected quite clearly in Draco's mind. He would never admit he was at a loss at how stupid they were behaving, especially the supposedly smart Granger. He would, however, milk it for every drop.

"Have a good night's sleep Weasel, and try to calm down a bit. You wouldn't want some innocent Slytherin to mistake you for a tomato and feed you to some ghastly beast tomorrow? No, I think it'd be safer for all of us, since the poor beast may suffer from food poisoning... " Draco drawled in his patented sarcastic voice, and glided out the hall leaving a very upset Gryffindor in his smoke.

Yes, this will be a most interesting term indeed...