Sunday, April 27, 2008
Story (I copy and paste from internet) - Chapter 1 - 'SHE'S SO COLD'
PROGOLUE
Draco Malfoy wasn't your typical teenage boy; he was what is often described as 'being old before your time', thus meaning he didn't act anything like a teenager; more like an extremely knowledgeble, anything but immature, slightly disturbed man. Draco didn't care about girls, sex, alcohol, parties... he just didn't care; even if his 'friends' did.
As Son of the most loyal servant to the Dark Lord, Draco had other things on his mind; like following in his Father's footsteps. It didn't matter if he wanted to - he had to. It wasn't something he didn't want to do, but it was something he most certainly feared; Lord Voldemort wasn't one to mess with; he knew that all too well, thanks to last summer. Last summer... that was probably what made him grow up so suddenly. After last summer, nothing seemed to matter but keeping the Dark Lord happy. Last summer, Voldemort murdered Draco's Mother - because of a fault of his Father's. It was said to be the only 'suitable punishment' that would ensure Lucius never 'wavered' again. Not that he had wavered, of course, merely hesitated. Is there a difference? If not then there should be. Most certainly.
Besides; Draco couldn't let his mind wander to such trivial things as social status and love - well, l.ust; not any longer. Those things just didn't matter any more, along with... what, life itself? Maybe. Since his Mother's death, Draco been in awe of the Dark Lord more than ever before, in a sick, twisted kind of way. Surely he should have been mortified, his world dissolving... after all, his Mother had just died. But in fact; it only made him smile, it made him stronger, more determined to please the Dark Lord, to make sure that he was a better servant than his Mother; she now embarrassed him, made him cringe whenever mentioned - which was rare, in itself - made him wish he hadn't known her. She had been weak, weaker then his Father... Lucius had let the Dark Lord kill her, he had taken his punishment and dealt with it, moving on swiftly, not a tear shed.
Draco wanted to be like his Father, he wanted his whole world to revolve around something meaningful... and it would; it did. Soon, the Dark Mark would be scorched into his left arm, making him a servant of the greatest Sorcerer to ever live... and that would give him purpose, because what he lacked, if anything, was purpose.
CHAPTER 1
It had been a rough morning. With nothing to do in the final week of the summer break, Draco had roamed around the house and gardens itching for something to occupy his time... and, finding nothing, he had stalled unhappily back to his room, slamming the door with unnessessary force. The only consolation was that soon, so very soon, he would be given a mission, a target, something, anything to keep him sane from boredom. Oh, it must be soon!
Patience.
Draco moved silkily to his bedroom window, and tugged at the curtains to peer out at the sun soaked gardens stretched beneath him. After a moment, he turned, infuriated by the lack of entertainment, to face his room. Dark wood floors were under his feet, and a large bed was backed against one wall - deep green threaded with silver as the coverings. A book shelf of the same color wood as the floors stood on the opposite wall, laden with heavy and extremely dusty literature and texts, none of which had ever been opened. This stood not two metres from a doorway which lead to an onsuite bathroom - oh, the Malfoy's wanted for nothing in their home; they had unending wealth.
A knock a the door broke Draco's gaze, which had been lingering thoughtfully on the lamps.
'Yes?' He called sharply, irritated already without a 'talk' from his Father, or a chore from a House-elf. The door swung open, and it toddled a small female elf, ears flapping, eyes wide as golf ***** - fear etched into them. A small cloth was wrapped scruffily around her waist and chest. The elf swallowed hard, before beginning in a shaking voice.
'Please forgive Polly for disturbing you, Master, but Master Lucius asked me to remind you that you need to pack your trunk for your return to Hogwarts, Master Draco.' Polly the House-elf trembled as she pointed to Draco's closed, yet empty trunk, underneath his bed.
'Yes I'm quite capable; I haven't forgotten. Get out.' Draco spat nastily, and Polly turned and scuttled away, tugging the door shut behind her, clearly desperate to leave Draco's presence. 'Stupid elf...' Draco muttered, shaking his head and turning back to his window once more. His eyes were drawn to a stone fountain directly ahead of his room, on which the sun beamed, making the water twinkle in that peculiar way it often does. Beyond the fountain was a long gravel driveway - not that they had that stupid muggle invention called a 'car'; of course not. It was merely for show, as was almost everything the second you approached the tall and extremely handsome gates that stood daringly at the entrance to the Manor.
'Draco!' A voice sounded from quite a distance, and Draco once again turned his back to the window. Instead of moving to find the voice, through the halls of the house, Draco merely called back.
'What?'
'Come here immediately.' The voice, that Draco now recognized as his Father's - well, a House-elf wouldn't be as bold, or stupid, to call him like this - shouted back, and Draco sighed before heading out of his room and skulking through the hallway, making his path to the Entrance Hall. He soon reached the top of the marble staircase, which landed him on the right height of the diamond chandelier that hovered above the equally dazzling hall beneath.
'Ahh, Draco. Come here.' Lucius Malfoy, his long, white blond hair stretched down his back, turned to his Son, and beckoned him with a hand as he stepped to one side, revealing a girl staring avidly up at the sparkling light. Draco quickened his pace, intrigued as to why they had a guest. He soon reached the bottom of the staircase, and he approached his Father and the girl slowly.
'We have company.' Lucius gave his Son a startlingly menecing look - a threatening look.
'I can see that.' Draco stepped to the side of his Father to stare at the girl closely. Her eyes were still attatched the the chandelier many feet above, so Draco didn't feel embarrassed to eye her over quickly - not in that way, but in the way to see what she was like. The girl had tumbling loose curls of dirty blonde hair that reached just past her shoulders, framing her jawline in an odd way. Draco's eyes lowered... the Girl wore a fitted black shirt, and dark denim jeans, and was carrying a deep pink bag in the crook of her arm, her hands clasped together in front of her. There was a large blue suitcase behind her, waiting to be taken away.
It was clear to see from the outfit that the girl wasn't skinny - neither was she plump; she was hourglass shaped, a thin waist, larger bust and hips, and... the girl suddenly lowered her face and glared at Draco. Aware that he was being watched, he snapped his own eyes to hers, and stared right at her for a moment... she had the most unusual eyes he had ever seen on a girl. Her pupil was rimmed with a dark purple, which faded seemingly seamlessly to a dark hazel at the edges - her gaze seemed to shimmer as the studied him equally as interested, and Draco finally pulled his hand to hold it in front of her.
'Draco Malfoy.' He felt he should make an effort, so he offered a small smirk. The girl didn't look impressed.
'Who is this boy?' She asked, glaring at Draco, but clearly questioning his Father. Draco's hand dropped back to his side and he narrowed his eyes at the girl.
'This is my Son, remember I said he would be here?' Lucius reminded, and the girl frowned.
'Hmm.' Was all that she replied. 'Do I have my own room?'
'Of course; we have several for you to choose from.' Lucius nodded to Draco, who remained still. 'Draco. Show the young Lady to the rooms, let her choose which she likes.'
'I do not know this man. I would rather not be left alone with him.' The girl sighed disdainfully, and Draco eyed her unhappily now - he wasn't used to girls speaking to him like this.
'What's your name?' He asked suddenly, the question had been burning on his lips for several long moments.
'Clea Harvey.' She reached and pulled her hair back from her face with one hand. Draco observed her for a brief moment, before nodding.
'Well, you know my name, I know yours, now we know each other. I'll show you to the spare rooms.' Draco stood back to one side and motioned for her to walk ahead of him, which she did, heading for the marble staircase, not saying another word in the slightly posh accent she held.
