Ron sat in History of Magic doodling as usual. Harry was sneaking a read in a comic book Ron had bought him for his birthday and even Hermione was yawning as Professor Binns spewed forth another God-awful lecture. Ron let his quill flow across the page. He didn’t even realize what he’d drawn until he looked down at the parchment. He nearly ripped the paper on the spot as he looked into the cool eyes of Draco Malfoy.

This past month had been torture. He was thinking that the obsession would pass, especially after throwing himself at the boy. But, no, it only seemed that his desire had intensified. He was lusting after the Slytherin as though he were the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. He wanted Malfoy, bad. He was even beginning to wonder, again, whether the Slytherin wanted him too. He knew it was a figment of his imagination, but sometimes he could swear that Malfoy was staring at him. Like this morning at breakfast, Ron had been eating his way through a large plate of sausages, minding his own business when Harry had tapped him on the shoulder.

"Wha?" Ron had asked with a mouthful of sausages.

"Don’t look now, but Malfoy’s been staring at you for the last ten minutes," Harry had replied, trying not to move his mouth too much.

Ron had swallowed. "Malfoy?"

"Yeah. Something’s going on with him. I can’t say that I miss the snide comments he makes, but haven’t you noticed a definite decline in them? When was the last time he called me 'Scar Face'? Or made fun of your family? He’s up to something."

"Oh. You know. It’s Malfoy. Something’s always up with him, right Hermione?" He had hoped Hermione would take a more sensible look at this situation. Ron, however, had been a little disappointed.

"I don’t know, Ron. It seems to me that something is going on with him. And today hasn’t been the first day he’s stared at you, Ron. Maybe you should contact Sirius, Harry. He said if anything strange is going on to write him."

"Oh come on!" Ron had said. What were they going on about? There was no reason to contact Sirius. What would he even say? ‘Oh, Malfoy must be plotting a diabolical scheme to get to Harry through Ron.’ Sometimes… "You’re all just overreacting. I’m sure Malfoy is just angry because there’s that game against Slytherin next week."

To say Ron hadn’t noticed some sort of change in Malfoy would be a lie, however. There was a definite eerie sort of quiet that had come across the boy. He even looked more pale than usual. There was something very dark about Malfoy that had never been there before. Sure, Malfoy had always been an evil git, but now he seemed dark, and creepy. But it wasn’t exactly a turn-off. God, now he was really going mad.

***

~~~Draco~~~

Draco sat in his room waiting for the Halloween feast to begin. He was incredibly nervous, but more than prepared for the upcoming events. Crabbe and Goyle were trying to spend their last few hours reading the books that their fathers had sent them. It was a useless struggle, seeing as how the two of them could barely form sentences let alone read them. Draco stood up and began pacing the perimeter of his room. There was a definite tightness in his chest, but it was such an excited nervousness. He needed a distraction.

The last month had been hell for Draco. He’d been getting letters from his father daily. The last one had erupted into flames by the time he was done reading it. There was important information in that one, and Draco knew why desperate measures needed to be taken. It’s not as though his father had intended on burning his hand.

Draco knew what he was to do. The Halloween feast would begin at 7:00 and would end between 8:00 and 8:30. He had to attend that, or Dumbledore would get suspicious. Then he was to go for a "walk" with Crabbe and Goyle. They were to go to the harbor where the Hogwarts boats had taken them their first year. Their fathers would be waiting for them in a boat where they would then be taken to an undisclosed area and given their Dark Marks.

Draco walked to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and looked in. He had to admit it. He looked like shit. He had really let himself go this past month. There was so much to think about, though. He had been studying the books, and letters his had father had sent him as though it was life and death. And he wondered if maybe they weren't. And Weasley hadn’t been making it any easier for him. The red-haired Gryffindor hadn’t left his mind since… That Night. He had been watching the boy; studying him as though he were a part of the lesson plan his father had worked out for him. Draco still wasn’t a fag though. He just couldn’t help himself. The boy enraged him. How dare he, how dare he?

"Draco?" Crabbe called from his bed, snapping Draco out of his self-induced trance.

"What?" Draco snapped back. He didn’t want to be disturbed.

"It’s 6:50."

"So?" Draco replied. He knew what Crabbe was talking about; he just enjoyed seeing the boy squirm.

"Oh, I, uh… Never mind."

"Get up. It’s time to go," Draco said, putting on his black cloak. Crabbe and Goyle rose from their beds, and followed Draco to the door. "And remember, no one is to know about what’s going on tonight."

The three boys walked down the dark Hogwarts hallways and into the Great Hall. The tables had been laid out with a huge feast, complete with an assortment of candies and desserts, as well as several large jack-o-lanterns. The room was fairly dark, except for the light coming from the few black and orange candles hovering above the tables, and the light from the full moon above. Draco took his seat near the front of the table, and Crabbe and Goyle sat on either side of him.

Dumbledore walked to the front of the hall, and gave his regular spiel about Halloween. Which included: don’t go to the Forbidden Forest, don’t steal candy from the kitchens, and also that the staff was a high alert for pranks. Here Dumbledore looked poignantly at the Weasley twins, who smiled cheekily back.

Draco didn’t have much to eat that night, but knew that he’d want the candy later, so he stuffed some in the pockets of his cloak. He looked around as the rest of the school shoveled massive heaps into their mouths, talking and laughing at the same time. Any other day and he would have been doing this himself, although not quite so nauseatingly, but he was too nervous tonight. He almost loathed the rest of the Slytherins who weren’t being forced to join the Death Eaters. Most of their fathers thought them too young to be a part of such a dark and secretive thing. But his father had been planning to initiate him since the Dark Lord came back to power. His father knew that Draco was ready to become a Death Eater, even if Draco didn’t.

Draco looked back over to the Gryffindor table where Weasley was also shoving food into his mouth at an almost sickening and yet endearing rate. The red-haired boy was laughing with the Mudblood and Scar Face as though nothing mattered. He envied them. Especially Weasley. What did he ever have to worry about? The boy had no pressures, or restraints. He was allowed to be fifteen. Just fifteen. Draco was pressured into being an adult. Taking up the "family trade" and all that. But, he wanted it too. He wanted to be a part of what his father did, he wanted his father to be proud of him.

Eventually the kids in the hall diminished and went back to their common rooms. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle where some of the last to leave, followed closely by Weasley, whose own friends had already gone up to their common room. It was awkward to walk in front of the boy. He tried not to look back but couldn’t help himself. He turned his head and glared at the tall boy.

"Oh, Weasley. I thought I smelled something." The Gryffindor glared back, and gave him the one-fingered salute. Had this been a different situation, that would have been grounds for a swift beating from Crabbe and Goyle. But, sadly, there was no time tonight.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. Unless you want to do something about it."

"I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you Weasley?" Draco cocked an eyebrow. The freckled boy blushed slightly and walked hurriedly up a flight of stairs. Draco watched for a moment as the long legs ascended up the staircase. He shook himself out of his trance and began leading his two friends down to the harbor. Finally they reached the giant dock, and saw their fathers sitting on the deck of the large black sailboat. His father nodded his head at the boys, and set out a plank for them to use to climb on the ship.

Draco went first, followed by Crabbe and finally Goyle. His father looked down and looked into his eyes in that intense way that made you feel as though you’d done something wrong.

"You haven’t told anyone, right?"

"No," Draco replied. Of course, this was the first thing his father would say. Nothing as trivial as "Hello." Or, "How are you, son?"

"Good. And you’ve studied the material I’ve sent you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. It’s time, then." And with that the ship set sail at top speed out of Hogwarts.