Post by ferret. on Aug 6, 2013 23:51:54 GMT -6
Seventh year was the hardest, in some people's minds, year you'd ever have in your life. It was the last year a person would spend at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. After seventh year, you were thrown out into the real world, facing real-life experiences, and attempt to find a job. Some people actually had their plants set out. Many were to follow in their parents' footsteps, becoming Aurors or Death Eaters. Draco Malfoy was one of those people. He was to be the perfect Malfoy heir, the one with all the power. He would make people bow at his feet, shower him with praise and wine. This would only happen, though, when he finished his last year. The way things were looking, however, such a thing might never happen.
NEWTS were, possibly, the worst tests anyone could have come up with. They kept you up all night in a cold sweat, praying to any higher being in any language (and every language) you knew. They were excruciatingly hard and impossible to pass, it seemed. But Draco Malfoy was perfection in every single way. He did, after all, belong to the best pureblood family in the Wizarding World. He had looks that were to die for and some girls had actually had near-death experiences from staring at him and not paying attention to their surroundings. He had the softest white-blonde hair anyone could imagine. It reached just below his chin now and he normally kept it tied back in a ribbon, just like his father. His eyes were cold and calculative. They always held a look of malice in them. They were stormy grey, making people wonder just what was going on behind them.
He was always watched with envious eyes and it was no wonder. He was the Slytherin Prince, spoiled beyond reasoning. He was a dark character, ruthless to no end. One day he would be sitting on Voldemort's right side, plotting the demise of yet another Mudblood. The first to go, of course, would be that damned Granger girl that Saint Potter liked so much. To Draco, the things that awaited him were far better than anything Hogwarts could ever offer. He would stop Harry from defeating Voldemort, thus killing him in the process. Why, if he did that, Voldemort would be sure to praise Draco. If he got rid of that damned Potter, just think of how Voldemort would react! He would replace his rather as a high-ranking comrade of the Dark Lord. It would also give him forgiveness for failing to kill Dumbledore on his own. Since Snape had stepped in and killed Dumbledore, he had been lowered slightly in Voldemort's eyes. But just wait...he would get rid of Potter. The only problem would be doing so without McGonagall, the new Headmistress, seeing.
His family was always on the Dark Lord's good side, even in the older times. Draco was taught anything that had to do with the Dark Arts. His father had started giving him lessons on the Unforgivable Curses the moment Draco could hold a wand and speak. Although this was questionable to Narcissa, she had allowed it only because she knew Draco would be great one day. Everyone knew that the Malfoys were in well with Voldemort and they also knew of the family's love of dabbling in the Dark Arts. What they didn't know, however, was what went on behind the closed doors of the Malfoy Manor. The library in the manor had always been filled with books on various curses that inflicted the worst sorts of pain. Anything that caused harm to others, the Malfoys knew about.
The Malfoys had always been strictly old-fashioned. Draco was even going to be forced to marry someone his parents chose. Of course, that wasn't such a bad thing. If the marriage went as planned, the family they would have would be one of the strongest around. Their wealth and power would surpass anything people threw at them. Power was an important thing in the Wizarding World, or so the Malfoys believed. It helped one get what they wanted. It was the grandest of things, power. That power would be Draco's given time and he would use it as often as possible, no matter what consequences awaited him. If he was to go against his parents' wishes, however, he would be punished. They wouldn't kill him, but they would whip him, beat him until he was sobbing, cut until he was sick from loss of blood. Or his father would use the charm with Draco's tooth in it that he had on a necklace to bring him pain. He was bound to his father by this necklace and his father had used it on occasion.
Before returning to Hogwarts, Draco had been staying at his manor, his parents in one room and him in another. His mother hadn't looked at him the entire time he was there and when his parents wanted to communicate at all, they sent a house elf to do it. Draco had tired of this and took to locking his door, though it didn't do much good. House elves can get past locked doors, sadly enough. He had filled himself up on Firewhiskey---so much that it didn't burn his throat at all after a while. That was saying a lot since it was made to feel like fire going down. He would lay on his bed for hours on end, staring blankly at his black ceiling. Every now and then he had been able to hear his mother and father talking, his mother sobbing as she did so, and it made him wonder just what was going on. He would eventually find out, whether it was from his aunt, a house elf, or some random kid at school.
It was growing rather late and Draco found himself walking down the corridors of Hogwarts at a slow, steady pace. His hands were stuffed deeply into his pants pockets, a few strands of silvery hair hanging in his face. (The pieces of hair had managed to fall loose from their tie.) Footsteps were following him, the sounds mingling with the own soft noises of his finely made shoes. Draco whipped around, glaring at the person that was following him. It was a girl, probably in her first or second year. "What do you want?" Draco inquired, raising an elegant eyebrow. The girl's eyes widened and she began stuttering. "W-well, you see...I-I..." The Malfoy heir laughed cruelly. "You what? I do say...isn't it a bit late for you to be out? Were my stunning looks so amazing that you felt the need to follow me around the whole damned school?" The girl whimpered a bit and turned, running off.
Draco took out the pocket watch his father had given him when he turned fifteen and flicked it open, looking at the time. It was a bit past eleven, therefore Draco figured he would call it a night. "Damned first years," He growled and stalked off down the hall, heading toward the Entrance Hall. He listened to his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Finally he reached the double oak doors and took one of his hands out, pushing one of the doors open so as to slip through. Even though he still looked rather nice, there were things one could note about him. First off, there was a troubled look in his grey eyes. Ever since his sixth year, after the incident with Dumbledore, a lot of things had been on his mind. He feared for his life, although he wouldn't admit this to anyone. His skin had paled even more from lack of sun and unhealthy eating habits. He had also picked up on smoking, another unhealthy habit. As he walked down the stairs and over to a bench, sitting down on it with a sigh. "Fuck."
NEWTS were, possibly, the worst tests anyone could have come up with. They kept you up all night in a cold sweat, praying to any higher being in any language (and every language) you knew. They were excruciatingly hard and impossible to pass, it seemed. But Draco Malfoy was perfection in every single way. He did, after all, belong to the best pureblood family in the Wizarding World. He had looks that were to die for and some girls had actually had near-death experiences from staring at him and not paying attention to their surroundings. He had the softest white-blonde hair anyone could imagine. It reached just below his chin now and he normally kept it tied back in a ribbon, just like his father. His eyes were cold and calculative. They always held a look of malice in them. They were stormy grey, making people wonder just what was going on behind them.
He was always watched with envious eyes and it was no wonder. He was the Slytherin Prince, spoiled beyond reasoning. He was a dark character, ruthless to no end. One day he would be sitting on Voldemort's right side, plotting the demise of yet another Mudblood. The first to go, of course, would be that damned Granger girl that Saint Potter liked so much. To Draco, the things that awaited him were far better than anything Hogwarts could ever offer. He would stop Harry from defeating Voldemort, thus killing him in the process. Why, if he did that, Voldemort would be sure to praise Draco. If he got rid of that damned Potter, just think of how Voldemort would react! He would replace his rather as a high-ranking comrade of the Dark Lord. It would also give him forgiveness for failing to kill Dumbledore on his own. Since Snape had stepped in and killed Dumbledore, he had been lowered slightly in Voldemort's eyes. But just wait...he would get rid of Potter. The only problem would be doing so without McGonagall, the new Headmistress, seeing.
His family was always on the Dark Lord's good side, even in the older times. Draco was taught anything that had to do with the Dark Arts. His father had started giving him lessons on the Unforgivable Curses the moment Draco could hold a wand and speak. Although this was questionable to Narcissa, she had allowed it only because she knew Draco would be great one day. Everyone knew that the Malfoys were in well with Voldemort and they also knew of the family's love of dabbling in the Dark Arts. What they didn't know, however, was what went on behind the closed doors of the Malfoy Manor. The library in the manor had always been filled with books on various curses that inflicted the worst sorts of pain. Anything that caused harm to others, the Malfoys knew about.
The Malfoys had always been strictly old-fashioned. Draco was even going to be forced to marry someone his parents chose. Of course, that wasn't such a bad thing. If the marriage went as planned, the family they would have would be one of the strongest around. Their wealth and power would surpass anything people threw at them. Power was an important thing in the Wizarding World, or so the Malfoys believed. It helped one get what they wanted. It was the grandest of things, power. That power would be Draco's given time and he would use it as often as possible, no matter what consequences awaited him. If he was to go against his parents' wishes, however, he would be punished. They wouldn't kill him, but they would whip him, beat him until he was sobbing, cut until he was sick from loss of blood. Or his father would use the charm with Draco's tooth in it that he had on a necklace to bring him pain. He was bound to his father by this necklace and his father had used it on occasion.
Before returning to Hogwarts, Draco had been staying at his manor, his parents in one room and him in another. His mother hadn't looked at him the entire time he was there and when his parents wanted to communicate at all, they sent a house elf to do it. Draco had tired of this and took to locking his door, though it didn't do much good. House elves can get past locked doors, sadly enough. He had filled himself up on Firewhiskey---so much that it didn't burn his throat at all after a while. That was saying a lot since it was made to feel like fire going down. He would lay on his bed for hours on end, staring blankly at his black ceiling. Every now and then he had been able to hear his mother and father talking, his mother sobbing as she did so, and it made him wonder just what was going on. He would eventually find out, whether it was from his aunt, a house elf, or some random kid at school.
It was growing rather late and Draco found himself walking down the corridors of Hogwarts at a slow, steady pace. His hands were stuffed deeply into his pants pockets, a few strands of silvery hair hanging in his face. (The pieces of hair had managed to fall loose from their tie.) Footsteps were following him, the sounds mingling with the own soft noises of his finely made shoes. Draco whipped around, glaring at the person that was following him. It was a girl, probably in her first or second year. "What do you want?" Draco inquired, raising an elegant eyebrow. The girl's eyes widened and she began stuttering. "W-well, you see...I-I..." The Malfoy heir laughed cruelly. "You what? I do say...isn't it a bit late for you to be out? Were my stunning looks so amazing that you felt the need to follow me around the whole damned school?" The girl whimpered a bit and turned, running off.
Draco took out the pocket watch his father had given him when he turned fifteen and flicked it open, looking at the time. It was a bit past eleven, therefore Draco figured he would call it a night. "Damned first years," He growled and stalked off down the hall, heading toward the Entrance Hall. He listened to his shoes, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Finally he reached the double oak doors and took one of his hands out, pushing one of the doors open so as to slip through. Even though he still looked rather nice, there were things one could note about him. First off, there was a troubled look in his grey eyes. Ever since his sixth year, after the incident with Dumbledore, a lot of things had been on his mind. He feared for his life, although he wouldn't admit this to anyone. His skin had paled even more from lack of sun and unhealthy eating habits. He had also picked up on smoking, another unhealthy habit. As he walked down the stairs and over to a bench, sitting down on it with a sigh. "Fuck."