The Draco Malfoy Chronicles: Part One

Part One: A Young Dragon

Meet Mr. Malfoy: An Introduction

My name is Draco Malfoy. I suppose that you've been warned about me. Maybe, if you're a girl, your mother told you never to talk to me, told you that he only place you'd end up is in bed, next to me. I suppose that if you went to Hogwarts with me, you knew me as the bratty Slytherin boy, or Lucius's gitty son, or that dark, annoying ferret boy (egads I don't think I'll ever live that incident down...). I guess that maybe I was those things, maybe I still am. Who knows? Who gives a damn? I think I'm just getting stupid in my old age. Ha, sad to think that my old age has come when I am only in my early thirties. Sad to think that in a few hours, I am going to die. Not that it matters, of course. She's already dead, and I guess that's why my life now seems useless. Who'd have thought that I, Draco Malfoy, would have fallen at the mercy of a girl.

I suppose that if I could go back, and if I could tell myself, my young self, what would have become of him, it wouldn't have done diddley squat. I was a stubborn boy, and I was definitely spoiled. Gah, I hate to say bad things about myself, but I suppose that whoever finds this, deserves the truth. The truth: I was-- and possibly still am-- an obstinate, foolish, selfish brat who fucked up a lot. I guess maybe I could have been a little nicer in my childhood, but my father, Lucius, brought me up with many rules and sayings. I never really listened to any of them, rules weren't my thing. But if there was at least one rule that had actually made it through, it was this: the weak went first, the strong went last, or made it to the top, unless someone stronger came along and pushed them off the mountaintop right as they began their victory dance. I refused to be weak, and to me, niceness had always been a sign of weakness.

Maybe that's why I hated Harry so much when I first met him. He was nice, but he wasn't weak, even though he was skinny (hey, he was the same size as me) he always had an aura of strength. For the first time in my life I had met someone who was nice, and wasn't weak, and I hated it. It contradicted my beliefs, and my father's sayings. But we won't go into Harry yet, or who she is and was to me... yet.

I guess every story has to have a beginning, and it wouldn't make sense to start in the middle, or even at the end of the beginning. You need to know the whole story, and that involves my childhood. This story can be told in three parts. The Beginning, which involves my childhood; the middle, which would be my seven years at Hogwarts; and the end, my life after Hogwarts, my wedding, my wife, my family. My son, my friends, my wife's death, and then, finally, my own death. I hope that you will finally understand my life, and why I am... or was... the way I was. Understand that things happened for a reason, but with many reverberations-- some good, some bad, and understand that I don't want your pity, or your hate, just your understanding.

So as I lie here, buried beneath the rubble that was once my home, dying, I am using every ounce of strength that I have left to leave this story here. Hopefully, the person who finds this will be Harry. If he's still alive that is... Ugh. I think I'd better get started. I can already tell, there's not much time left...