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Slytherin Song: Part One by cedrixfan
Chapter 4 : Entry Four
 
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DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling admitted that she cried when she finished writing the 7th one. I'll probably cry when I finish reading it, too, but that doesn't make me her, does it? It just means that I hate my life, I'm emo, and I don't have anything else to do but take advantage of my dry-eyes problem. 
Well, not really, but I'm not Rowling, so...that's that. Enjoy the next chapter in the life of the famous, bouncing ferret!




Entry Four:

Draco Malfoy
November 10th, 1997


School is a drag. It truly is. Not only is it unbearably time consuming, but it is also almost too easy. I was prepping for an extremely difficult N.E.W.T. year, and all I got was a breeze. Hogwarts is going to the dogs. The professors are probably too worried about the war to think about educating us properly. I don’t understand it, though. One would think that after making such an effort to reopen the school this year, they would make it worth the trouble.

We had a Hogsmeade trip last weekend. I’m surprised we were allowed to go, considering the “dangers” out there. Ha…and to think that I’m one of those dangers!

My time spent in the village was quite interesting, though not all that fun. Most of the shops were closed up because of too little customers. The shops that were still open did all they could to reel us in and purchase things from their stores. I suppose we’re the largest group they’ve had since early last school year. It was especially boring since Zonko’s Joke Shop was one of the shops that had gone out of business. Those rotten Weasley twins upped the competition, also, so that didn’t help them Mr. Zonko all that much. Thankfully, Honeydukes was still in business; I don’t know what I would have done without a butter beer.

I was quite annoyed when I woke up that morning. Instead of my owl pecking on my arm to wake me, as was normally the case, I was disgusted to see Granger’s face above me. How on Earth did she manage to get into my room, anyway?

“Malfoy, wake up,” she insisted while shaking me awake firmly. She appeared as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world but in my room.

“What the hell are you doing?!?”

She didn’t answer me, but continued to shake me awake until I stood up and pushed her out of the room, shutting and locking the door.

She said through the door, “We have to be down in the Entrance Hall in a few minutes.”

“Why?” I called back.

“We have to patrol for the first ten minutes in the village, remember?”

I could have kicked her. Even though it wasn’t her fault we had duties, I wanted to kick her, anyway.

I even told her that. “I want to kick you, Granger.”

There was silence, then, “Whatever for?”

“No reason. I just feel like it.”

“…Ooookay…”

I looked in the mirror and examined my appearance. I have to say that I am one attractive guy. I don’t think so, obviously (that would be prude), but I’ve noticed how the girls all melt when they lay eyes on me. I suppose they have good reason. From what I know about what turns girls on, I know I’ve got the package to do just that. I’ve got the toned body, the sexy blonde hair, the entrancing eyes, and the style that they all speak about. I guess it runs in the family; Malfoys have been known to be quite appealing.

I have to admit that I am wonderful at getting ready fast, also. I opened the door after having finished in mere minutes, startling Granger out of her mind. That’s what she gets for waking me up so early.

“Woah, that was quick,” she gasped, looking me up and down. I had a sudden thought that she could have possibly been checking me out; just thinking that made me feel unpleasantly exposed.

“Erm…let’s go, then,” I muttered, brushing past her and shuffling down the stairs into the common room below. I finished tying my navy blue tie around my shirt collar and pulled on a blue sweater over my shirt.

Granger came down a minute later and somewhat shocked me; I guess I hadn’t really looked at her that morning until then, probably since I was distracted by my anger at having been disturbed from my peaceful slumber. Her hair was as frizzy as it had been in our first few years at school, completely unlike the tamed curls she’d had in recent years. Just as I was about to comment on the fact, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at her head, muttered a spell I couldn’t hear. Immediately, the frizz dissipated and was replaced by honey curls.

As she led the way to the portrait hole, I asked her, “Do you do that every morning?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.”

I was curious. “Where did you learn the spell?”

She closed the portrait after I had climbed through and out into the hall.

I looked at her, wondering if she would answer. I noticed that she seemed embarrassed. Whatever for?

I soon found out why. “I-I…” she stuttered, “I made it up myself.”

I walked beside her, intrigued, for once.

I asked, “How did you invent it? We were never taught to invent our own spells.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I did it on accident, really.” We continued walking down the staircases and down the Grand Staircase.

She wondered aloud, “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” I replied quickly. “Just curious, is all.” That was actually true. I was merely fascinated that one could make up their own spells. I suppose that if anyone were to do it, it would be the too-smart-for-her-own-good Granger. We passed by Filch and left the castle through the large, oak front doors.

“Why do we have to patrol, anyway?” I complained. Hogsmeade was a time to have fun not carry out duties. “It’s not like we’ll be able to hoard off a band of death eaters if we’re attacked, or anything.”

I think that that was the wrong thing to say, for I received a glare from the oh-so-scary lioness.

“Well,” she said. “Considering the fact that one of the Heads is quite dangerous, anyway, we don’t need to worry about attacks. We just need to make sure people don’t do anything rash.”

For some reason, I didn’t suddenly feel a flash of anger rise up inside me at the mention of me being a death eater. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Granger was correct in her statement; I’m dangerous enough, as it is.

“Yes, I am a threat, aren’t I?”

We passed through Hogwarts’ gates and continued to Hogsmeade village.

“Not to me,” she said cooly. “I don’t feel at all threatened by someone like you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well,” she explained. “I just have a feeling that you don’t have the heart to do anything that would harm me.”

That was not what I had expected. To translate, she thought I was a pansy, a wimp. I certainly do have the heart to kill or hurt people any time of the day. I am a strong man, after all. In fact, I probably don’t have a heart, anyway, other than the beating one.

I asked quizzically, “What makes you think that?” I knew the answer already, though. She probably thought that I was too much of a chicken to kill anyone because of my screw up with Dumbledore last term. Maybe she’s right—but I won’t let her know that.

She never did answer my question, though.

“We’re here,” she stated when we entered the village. It was already crowded with students hustling and bustling left and right.

We didn’t talk at all during our patrolling period. After a while, we entered Madame Puddifoot’s tearoom to check the time.

I will never set foot in that nightmarish place again. How on Earth could anyone bear to see that much pink all at once? I don’t want to imagine what it must be like on Valentine’s Day.

“Alright. It’s nine past. Let’s just walk round for a minute longer.” She told me as we departed from the shop by my lead; I didn’t want to stay in that terrible place any longer than was necessary.

“Don’t tell me you like that place,” I groaned.

She glanced back at the shop, than back at me, disgusted.

Her nose was up in distaste. “Definitely not. I detest the color pink.”

“Same here,” I agreed. “Frankly, I don’t understand how the couples in there can stand so much…s-so much cuteness all in one tiny room.”

She laughed. It was the second time I heard her laugh, and it was just as strange for me as the first time. Why was she laughing? And, once again, why on Earth did I feel like I should laugh with her?

“What?”

She shook her head. “I never would have expected that word to come out of your mouth.”

“What word?” I was confused.

Cuteness. It just seems so…” She was trying to find a way to describe it, whatever it was. “so…not you.”

Cuteness, cuteness, cuteness. There.”

She laughed even more. This time, I could not help but smile slightly. Since when did I smile? She gasped. “Oh, my god…you’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

No, I’m not. Does this look like smiling to you, Granger?”

“Well, you were smiling.”

“Was not.”

“Was to.”

“Was not.”

“Was—”

“Alright,” I stopped her. “It has to’ve been over a minute now.” She nodded. I could have sworn a saw slight disappointment written across her face. Was she having fun aggravating me? Teasing me?

“So, I’m leaving, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

“…”

“…”

“Bye,” I muttered, quickly turning around and setting off in the general direction of Honeydukes. On my trek there, I couldn’t help but reflect on how strange that morning had been with Granger. She laughed too much. That feeling I felt when she apologized to me a month ago came when she laughed, too. I hate that feeling! It’s too strange. I’ve never felt it before. It’s almost tingly. Maybe I’m losing circulation in my stomach or something. It’s almost like I suddenly feel more energized. Maybe it’s triggered by shock; I most definitely was when she apologized. I suppose I also was whenever she laughed. It's just that I never see her laugh normally. It’s just so out of context. She’s supposed to be either civil or angry with me, not in a light mood and laughing. And to think—I smiled because of it. I guess she has the kind of laugh that makes people happy naturally, whether they think that what she was laughing about was funny or not. Yes, that must be it.

I met with Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle in Honeydukes as planned. They were already seated in a booth sipping tea and butter beer.

“Hello, Draco,” Zabini greeted me. I just nodded in return, taking a seat on the end of the bench next to him. Madam Rosmerta came by for me to order just as I sat down. In a few minutes, I was busy with my butter beer.

“How long have you guys been here?” I asked him after receiving my drink. I had neglected to tell them where I would be for the first ten minutes of the hour, for I had not known about patrolling before Granger rudely woke me up that morning.

“At least half and hour.”

“Sorry I was late,” I apologized quickly, “Last minute rounds.”

Zabini seemed disgusted. “With the mudblood?”

“Aye, mudblood,” grunted Goyle lazily.

I sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. She came and woke me up this morning.”

“That must have been a terrible first sight of the day.”

“It scared the shit out of me,” I added, for it really had frightened me when I woke up to…her.

Zabini smirked. “’Must’ve been glad to get away from her, then?”

“Tell me about it.”

“Granger scum, Granger scum,” blurted Crabbe stupidly. I gave him a glare for his odd outburst, and he looked away, ashamed.

They really are stupid, those two. Goyle probably was a troll in his past life…or maybe his present life…

“So, Draco.” Zabini lowered his voice. “How’s your task going?”

“What?!?”

He frowned. “Getting the Weasley girl. How are you doing watching her?”

I had completely neglected to so much as glance in that redhead’s direction over the last few weeks. Like I wrote earlier, schoolwork has been too time consuming to think about anything else.

“Oh, err…” I lied, “Just swell, Blaise. Just swell.”

He was anything but convinced.

I did a double take. “H-how do you know about that, though?”

I had never told a soul about the assignment, just as Snape instructed me to do. How had Blaise found out about it? Death eaters did not discuss their tasks with anyone, even other death eaters; you never knew when there was a traitor in your midst. Was there something he wasn’t telling me?

He lowered his voice far beyond the softest whisper and muttered to me, “Our master has assigned me a task, as well, Draco.”

I knew he could tell that I was quite confused. What did his task have to do with mine?

I found out soon enough. “I’ve been instructed to see to it that you carry out your duties. Snape doesn’t have time to keep coming back here and to make sure you’re following orders. He assigned me to do that, instead.”

Perfect. Just perfect. Now, I’ll have Zabini nagging me for the next few months. Oh, freaking joyful day.

“I see Rosmerta’s got a thing for you,” Zabini sniggered. I whipped around and saw why Zabini thought such a disturbing thought. Madam Rosmerta was staring straight at me, though I knew she was doing anything but admiring me. Her eyes were narrowed and lips pursed, which meant that she hated me. I knew why, of course—I had Imperioused her last term to assist in my task.

“Yeah, that’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?” I agreed, obviously lying. I didn’t think that Zabini knew anything at all about my role in the death eater attack last term.

We didn’t talk all that much on our way back to the school. We decided to just finish our drinks and leave since most of the good shops in town were closed.

The next day (Sunday), I decided that I should get started on my assignment for the Dark Lord. Now that I had Zabini to deal with, I might as well. After I finished eating breakfast in the Great Hall, I searched for the Weaslette at the Gryffindor table. Sure enough, the girl was there conversing with Granger.

So, she’s here in the morning.

I placed another piece of toast on my plate and took a bite, waiting for any indication that the girl was leaving. Good Merlin, she ate slow! She finally cleared her plate, and began to leave with the “Golden Trio”. Did she ever go anywhere alone?

I left as soon as they entered the Entrance Hall so as not to look like I was following them, even though that’s precisely what I was doing. I followed far behind them until they reached the 7th floor. I assumed they entered the Gryffindor common room.

But Granger did not go with them. As soon as I reached the 6th floor platform, I heard her call my name.

“Malfoy?”

I turned around slowly, hoping that I didn’t look guilty of anything. After all, how could she pin me for doing anything rash? I could have just been on the 6th floor platform by chance.

“What do you want?” I said impatiently. She climbed down the staircase and reached me.

She asked suspiciously, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you, couldn’t I?”

She did not seem pleased with my reply. It was true, however. For all I knew, she could have been spying on me, though I know that she wasn’t. That would have been rather disturbing.

“Fine.” And with that, she went off in the direction of the Heads’ common room. I watched her leave. I noticed that she kept glancing slightly over her shoulder. I wondered if she was looking at me when she did so; I sure hope not. Did she expect me to follower her? It would be completely unnecessary to accompany her anywhere when not on duties. Duties were the only occasions that I forced myself to walk with her. Otherwise, I would be demoted from my position. I don’t want my pride to suffer, so I wish to keep my Headship.

I realized that it was a stupid idea to follow Weaslette today, anyhow. It was the weekend. It’s not like she would have a routine on weekends. I need to keep an eye on her during the week. I suppose I should figure out what classes she has, for starters.

In fact, that would be the easiest part of it all! All I have to do is ask Granger for the list of prefects and their surveys that they filled out at the first meeting. If I recall correctly, they were to fill out what classes they took and when they were in each class. I’m sure there’s much more I can learn about the girl from her survey than that, too. What a brilliant idea I had! I’m just so brilliant.

As a result, I did what I had wanted to avoid doing just moments before—I followed Granger back to the common room.

“Wait!” I called to her. She turned around and gave me a puzzled look. I caught up with her and we began walking to the room.

I thought up an excuse to be walking with her. “I’m technically not allowed to walk alone anywhere in this castle.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “But you were alone just a moment ago, weren’t you?”

“No,” I lied, starting down another flight of stairs. “I was with a friend until we went our separate ways.”

“But you were alone when I saw you.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I was. But my friend left just before you saw me, see.”

“Oh, alright,” she resigned as we reached the floor that contained the common room. “I guess I won’t be able to get anything out of you.”

“There’s nothing to get.”

“…Of course.”

I ignored her sarcasm.

“So,” she said when we stopped in front of the portrait of Newt Scammander. “You decided to walk with me when all you had to do was follow your friend, instead, after realizing you had to be with someone in the halls?”

I was ready for that question. “I was on my way back to the common room, anyway. Following you would insure that I would never be alone in the halls on the way back since you were going to the same place as I was.”

She sighed to the point that it could have passed as a scowl. She could scowl all she wanted; I won that one, and there’s nothing she could do about it.

We simply stood there for a few moments, forgetting that we were supposed to go into the room.

“Are you going to give me the password or not?” Newt asked, clicking his tongue impatiently.

“It’s time for a new one,” said Granger. “What shall it be?”

You make it up this time. I’m out of ideas.”

“Alright, then,” she said, closing her eyes and trying to brainstorm. “It has to be something totally out of context. Let’s see…no, not that…too vague. How about…no, that’s too obvious…err…we could make it this—”

“Hurry up, and quite acting schizophrenic, will you?” I spat. Honestly, you’d think she had someone else talking to her.

“Oh, this is too hard…err…maybe it could be…no, not good enough…alright, this might work…well, not really—”

“Just say the first bloody thing that comes to mind, alright?” I yelled.

“Oh, you foul monster…”

“Yes, that’s good enough,” I said.

“But I was talking about you—”

I chose to ignore that. “Alright, Scammander, we’re changing the password to foul monster, good it?”

“As you wish, sir.”

The portrait opened and I accidentally let Granger go through first.

“Finally, some manners, Malfoy…” she muttered.

“My utmost unpleasure,” I said, bowing. I was not going to let her believe that I was being nice to her, because I most definitely wasn’t. I mean, a nice gesture isn’t considered nice unless one means to make it, is it?

I glanced at her and noticed that she was smiling to herself. What’s wrong with her?

“Why so cheery, Granger? Has Weasley done a number on you?”

“Ugh!”

“Yeah, that is pretty disgusting. I wouldn’t want to see that.” I said. This was actually fun, making her embarrassed. Maybe I should try it more often. Making Granger angry and uncomfortable was amusing, and Merlin knows I need amusement at this pathetically boring school.

She asked me, “Why are you so cheery?”

“What?!?”

“Yeah, surprising, isn’t it?” she chuckled. “Malfoy being associated with the word cheery.” There she goes laughing again! And why do I always feel like joining in?

I disguised my faint smile with a smirk. “Hey, Malfoys can be cheery, too, just like everyone else.”

“Is that so?”

I plopped down on the sofa. “Yes, Granger. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have said it.”

“Then tell me why you’re so cheery right now.”

“I am not cheery right now.”

She raised her eyebrows as she took a seat at the long study table. “Then why are you smiling?”

“I am not smiling.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

“Am not.”

“Are to.”

I scowled. “Not this again.”

She said slyly while skimming through the pages of an abnormally large textbook, “So you were smiling?”

“I never said that.”

“But you gave up.”

“Because we were acting like two-year-olds.”

She didn’t know how to come back after that, so she continued to skim through her book. I felt like smiling again, but I didn’t; this was so fun! Throwing insults at one another really had its value!

I decided to test the waters once more. “Don’t put your nose too close to the pages.”

“Why not?”

“If you do, they’ll be covered in grease.”

She frowned, but retorted immediately, “Only because your hair is so full of grease that it gets all over everything in the room, including me.”

“My hair is certainly not full of grease, and the only reason it would be is because someone didn’t let me have time to take a shower this morning.”

“You could have taken a shower last night.”

“I did take a shower last night.”

She smiled in a bitterly sweet fashion. “Then you wouldn’t have needed one this morning, anyway.”

I scowled; she had a point. Despite how frustrating this was, it still was quite fun to argue with her.

I had to ask, “Did you enjoy that?”

“Enjoy what?”

“Arguing just then?”

She looked at me like I was barking mad. I probably was; I wouldn’t normally have asked a question like that of her.

“How does one enjoy arguing?”

“I truly don’t know,” I answered. “Ask a political figure. They love debates.”

And she laughed…again.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Why have you taken up laughing around me, Granger?”

I was standing at this point. I suppose I actually was angry.

She stopped laughing and frowned. “I don’t know.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

“That’s right. I don’t know.”

“So, you’ve been laughing, and you haven’t a clue why?”

“Well, not exactly…”

“That’s what it seems like,” I admitted.

“Well,” she sighed, giving up on the huge book before her. “I suppose you’ve been kind of…funny.”

I was confused.

“Funny?”

“Yes, funny.”

Funny?”

She was agitated as she cooly replied, “Yes, funny, Malfoy. That’s what I said, so don’t overuse it.”

“What—funny?”

“Alright,” she spat, “That wasn’t funny.”

I sat back down on the couch and spread myself out, stretching.

I gave her a peculiar look. “So you think that I’m funny?”

I knew it pained her to nod in response. I couldn’t believe it. She thought I was funny? She’s got to be one sorry girl.

“So, that’s why you’ve been laughing?”

Another nod from her end.

“And that’s why I’ve been smiling?” I don’t know why I leaked that out. I suppose, being Heads, we should be completely honest with each other. Of course, I wouldn’t be if she asked about the Dark Lord, but that’s a completely different matter altogether.

She couldn’t have been more surprised, but she covered it up. “So, you admit that you’ve been smiling?”

Damn.

“Yes,” I scowled in defeat. I had not intended to let her win the battle, but she won all the same.

And you’ve been smiling because I’ve been laughing?”

“Strangely, yes. And don’t begin to ask why, because I haven’t any idea why, myself.”

Why on Earth had I told her about my smiling thing? Now she knows that I have a weakness—smiling when people laugh. At least I’m not weak in other areas. Smiling when others laugh is better than something like not being able to lie. I would never have gotten by all these years without telling a series of fibs every now and then.

As if she knew what I was thinking, she voiced, “You have a weakness.”

“Yes, I’ll admit it. I have a weakness—smiling when others laugh. Big deal.”

“No, not that,” she countered. I looked at her. I had that same desire to kick her again—her expression showed that she knew something about me that I didn’t know myself. Ignorance has to be one of my biggest pet peeves, especially if I’m the one who’s ignorant about whatever it is. Knowledge is power. Without the knowledge, the power is not there. I need to have the power, the superiority over Granger. I will not allow her to make me feel inferior.

When I didn’t answer, she pushed all of her books aside and leaned her arms on the table.

She looked at me when she explained, “No, you’ve got another weakness, too, Malfoy.”

I was growing impatient. “Just say what you think it is, alright? I hate it when you create suspense.”

She smiled, and it was a real smile. I had never seen a real, genuine smile on Granger’s face before. Sure, she had laughed loads of times, but this was different. Whenever she smiled at me, it was either forced or a disapproving one. This was the real thing. Seeing her actually smile made me feel really strange. But it wasn’t strange, for I’d felt that feeling before, especially recently. It was that feeling I got whenever she did something that wasn’t mean or hurtful…almost something I dare to say pleasant. You know, it’s that feeling that I absolutely despise. I’m guessing the feeling comes whenever something surprises me thoroughly, or perhaps, it comes when something totally unexpected occurs in my presence. That sounds about right, doesn’t it?

After her smile, she said, “You can’t kill.”

I had been so caught up trying to understand what I was feeling that what she said did not make sense.

“What do you mean?”

“Your weakness, Malfoy,” she reminded me, “is that you can’t kill.”

“I most certainly can!”

Unfortunately, I didn’t sound convincing. I knew I wouldn’t because I wasn’t entirely convinced that she was wrong about what my weakness is. I wasn’t able to kill Dumbledore, was I? Ever since then, I’ve been telling myself that I was just nervous because it was my first time having to kill someone. Isn’t that normal? Doesn’t everyone get nervous before they kill their first victim? Of course, most never encounter a time when they need to kill someone, but don’t all death eaters have second thoughts their first time?

“Alright, then kill me.”

I was flabbergasted. What in the name of Merlin was she trying to do?

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

Dumbfounded, I told her, “No. I don’t feel like killing you today.”

“So, you’ll do it tomorrow?”

“No,” I said. Where was she going with this?

She tried to steer me in the other direction, still smiling. “Oh, c’mon. Just kill me. You hate me, don’t you? Just rid me from your life, and you’ll be happier.”

What was she playing at? I wish she had stopped smiling then. I mean, who smiles merrily when they ask someone to kill them? It was eerie.

“What makes you think I want to kill you?” I asked in bewilderment. This was a side of her I have never seen. Asking me to kill her?

She finally stopped smiling. Once she had, I figured out that it was all an act.

“Do you see my point?” she asked, “You can’t kill.”

“No,” I tried to reason, though failed. “I-I just choose not to sometimes. If I want to, I’ll kill someone.”

“But don’t you hate me more than most people in the world? Don’t you despise me past what you can understand?” she was pacing in front of the couch, adding dramatically, “Don’t you want to kill me?”

I was tired of this. “Okay, Granger. Get to the point fast before my patience runs out.”

“So, you don’t want to kill me?”

I attempted to sound dangerous as I hissed, “I never said that.”

To tell you the truth, I don’t think I do want to kill her. She doesn’t matter enough. Potter’s the only one who stands in the way of the Dark Lord rising to power, not Granger. It would be unnecessary to kill her. I only do anything with Granger if it’s necessary.

There’s also the fact that she’s amusing, and I would probably kill myself out of boredom if my amusement was taken away from me. Zabini has become a broken record, always talking about how great our master is at every chance he has. Pansy…well, I don’t enjoy having her merely in sight, so everything she does isn’t amusing. Schoolwork has never been amusing, though it probably is to know-it-all Granger. Crabbe and Goyle used to be amusing—which was before I found out they weren’t pretending to be as dumb as a doormat; they actually were.

So, though I hate to admit it, I would go mad if Granger didn’t have her stupid role in my life. I must be really sad to have stooped to this level of dependence.

“So, what is your point, Granger?”

She stopped pacing and moved to the study table, gathering up her things. As she was about to leave to her dorm, she halted at the stairs and turned, looking at me. Her expression was unreadable, though I knew there was something behind the mask.

“You can’t kill.”

“But—”

She huffed. “No, you can’t. Don’t deny it, Malfoy. You can’t even kill me, and I knew that from the start. You can’t kill me, and you couldn’t kill D-Dumbledore.” She sniffled briefly, and her voice suddenly sounded soft and sweet, something that had never happened in my presence before.

“You have a heart, Malfoy.”

Before I could retort, she scurried up the stairs and closed the door to her room. I just stared at the stairs (haha) for a while, sort of shocked at our very odd exchange that took place.

What was all that about? I still don’t understand it. Why would she care if I can kill or not? Can I kill? I don’t even know at this point. Just because I couldn’t kill Dumbledore doesn’t mean I can’t kill others. And why had she asked me to kill her? She proved her point, but why? I wouldn’t want to kill her, though I don’t ever want her to know that. I wonder if it hurt her when I inclined that I might want to kill her. Of course, I could care less whether I hurt her feelings or not, but I’m curious, just like I’m curious about everything else. A Slytherin wouldn’t be a Slytherin if they didn’t want to know everything about anything and anything about everything.

She said I have a heart. I know she didn’t mean the pumping organ; she thinks I have a heart heart, a soul heart. I’m sure everyone does, but they don’t always have access to it. In my case, I don’t want to access it. Having a soft heart is for pansies, for romantics, for…non-Malfoys. One can’t go around full of emotion all the time if they’re in with the Dark Lord; it just doesn’t work that way.

Why does she think I have a heart, though? I’m a pretty cold person, if you ask me. Just because I wasn’t able to kill a man—one man, just for the record—doesn’t mean that I’m a softy. My master is probably the most cold-hearted (if he has a heart at all) person (if one could call him a person) I’ve ever met, and I’m one of his followers. One can’t be a follower of a cold-hearted person unless they’re pretty cold themselves, right?

I received a warning in Transfiguration class the other day for not listening to the teacher. I don’t understand why I was punished when no one else listens to McGonagall’s bloody lectures, either. Normally, I’m able to pretend that I’m interested in every single word she says, but I suppose I was somewhat distracted that day. I had been distracted all week, in fact, ever since Granger left me hanging with that bloody statement. I couldn’t rid it from my mind! I kept hearing, “you have a heart, Malfoy,” over and over and over, like a broken record in my mind. It was maddening!

I was happy that my punishment was merely a warning. Thankfully, I wasn’t sentenced a detention instead, because that would have probated my Headship.

I never considered that I would one day be punished for thinking too much. I’ve never thought so deeply in my life! I accepted things right away without question, without a need for explanation, and without worry. I was a carefree guy up until last year when I became a death eater. Even than, I did not ponder over everything as I do now. Why did I suddenly begin this mind-maddening ordeal called thinking?

My question was answered earlier this evening when I entered the Heads’ common room. Being the end of the weekend, I had come back from the library, where I had been completing my homework (I’m a terrible procrastinator). As soon as I entered the room, I knew the answer to why I thought too much. I knew why I was suffering from confusion and utter mind-boggling madness.

Granger.

She was and is the reason I have trouble falling asleep at night. She makes me feel terribly annoyed at myself each and every day. She is the reason why my mind has suddenly gone berserk.

I stormed into the room and stopped directly in front of the wretched girl where she sat on the couch. She cowered slightly out of surprise, and she did not relax.

“Do you have fun making my life a complete wreck, Granger?” I seethed.

She clearly had no Earthly idea what I was talking about. That made me feel even angrier, somehow.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, Mal—”

I cut her off, “Up until this year, I was a simple person. I accepted things without a second thought. I had no real worries, no mind-boggling, deep questions that I needed answers for. I didn’t bloody care whether or not I was a ‘good person’ or not. I was content.” I paused and leaned closer to her face and hissed, “Until I was forced to associate with you.”

I began pacing in a stalking manner, looking her in the eye the whole time, somewhat like a vulture, I’d expect. “You’ve complicated everything for me with all those deep questions. You’ve driven me insane! I can’t get our conversations out of my mind, or your bloody voice saying, ‘You have a heart, Malfoy’, and I keep questioning what’s truly right and what’s truly wrong, and it’s killing me! It’s eating me up! I hate it!”

Her mouth was slightly open, reminding me of a lost and hurt child. I didn’t care, however. She caused me to become so complicated, so frustratingly complicated that I could care less if I hurt her.

“And, you know what?” I added, getting closer once more, than whispered scornfully, “You were right—I hate you, too. I hate you more than anything in the world, more than anyone I’ve met or will meet. You’re scum. You’re a nothing, Granger. You’re just a damn mudblood.”

Her expression after hearing what I said will probably stay with me for the rest of my life. It was one of the most hurt, most burdened, most emotionally scarred faces I have ever seen. What made it worse was the single tear that formed in her eye and dropped to the floor. It was so depressing that I had to turn my gaze and leave the room as fast as I possibly could. It was just too sad a scene to bear witness to.

This is where I stand. It has been a little over an hour since I yelled at Granger, and her expression still hasn’t left my mind. I had been truly shocked to see how affected she had been by my outburst. To think that expression became so terribly saddened seemed almost like a nightmare.

And I had been the one who triggered the nightmare.

I thought I would have been satisfied when I finished chewing her out. I thought that I would be amused. Instead, I’m feeling guilty. I’ve never truly felt guilty about anything before now. I’m thankful for that, because it’s one of the worst feelings I’ve ever felt, even worse than physical pain.

This feeling is much worse than the strange feeling I feel when Granger apologizes and laughs. This is truly heart breaking. Of course, that’s only if I have a heart to break. I’m not so sure I do, seeing as I was just as cruel as could be and heartless an hour ago.

I can’t believe I’m writing this. I’ve never cared about how I’ve hurt people, especially muggleborns like Granger. Why do I all of a sudden feel worse than I ever have before for verbally abusing someone I could care less about?

Where is Draco Malfoy, and who is this stranger? 
                                                                                  

                                                                                   -Someone whom I don’t know anymore



AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey, hey, hey! How was it this time round? I truly hope you all are enjoying this story, because I most definitely enjoy writing it. Don't you just love Draco? Please REVIEW with whatever feedback you wish, as long as it isn't terribly offensive, of course. I love to read what you guys think!


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Slytherin Song: Part One: Entry Four

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