Harry Potter fan fiction. My standard disclaimers apply.

A Walk in My Mind

by Lady Aria (bukiminatenshi@lycos.com)

The Shinigami’s Haunt: http://www.oocities.org/duonoshinigami

"Potter, I would advise you to take up remedial lessons in the art of reading, lest you become an even bigger danger to the rest of the student body than Longbottom," Professor Snape hissed, a malicious smile forming on his lips. "Now. Sit. Down."

Draco Malfoy flashed a smirk in Ron and Hermione’s direction as the pair tried their best to get Harry to calm down. This was, in his expert opinion, one of the few perks of the otherwise dreary days spent within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. It was most fortunate that Professor Snape shared his fascination towards such ventures and has never yet failed to castigate Harry each time opportunity struck. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle grunted in what Draco could only assume as glee. Frankly, he found it surprising that either of their families ever found a way to survive the Ice Age.

"As always, a perfect draught." Professor Snape stopped at Malfoy’s table and tested his potion. "Note the clarity of the water touched by Mr. Malfoy’s solution. Purged of all impurities. This potion could save you life in the event that you find yourself in a bog or at questionable Muggle dining establishments." He put down the flask he was holding. "Twenty points to Slytherin. You are dismissed."

<What’s so special about Potter anyway?> Draco fumed, his usual furrow of thought creasing his forehead. He’d asked himself this question time and time again. <It’s not as though he defeated the Dark Lord through some courageous act or sacrifice. All he probably did was lie there and gurgle up at him!>

Crabbe and Goyle were waiting for him outside the hall. The trio of Gryffindors was also there, chattering. Just for the fun of it, he shot a sneer directly at Ron before walking away, his two thugs forming a wall behind him for the walk back to the Slytherin dungeons. From the sound of things, it was now Harry’s turn to keep Ron’s temper in check. It was mildly satisfying, but only that.

One of the things that fueled Draco’s hate for Harry is that, even in his childhood, he’d always been compared to The Boy Who Lived. A boy who, back then, no one knew personally, yet everyone had his or her own mental picture of what he must be like.

And 'everyone' included his father.

Granted, all his father ever wished for Harry Potter is a long and painful death for defeating the Dark Lord. He, however, had always been forced to live in the shadow of a boy he’d never even known, but had learned to hate.

***

"Get up, Draco."

His arms shook as he tried to push himself off the tapestry rug of his father’s study and failed.

Twice.

"I said, get up."

Ice. His tone was nothing short of ice.

He had to do what he’s being told.

Or else.

His arms were beginning to seize up, but he somehow managed to push himself up on all fours. He could feel the sweat trickling down his face. He was now on bended knee. One more foot up and….

Pain lashed through him as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse and went down once more.

"Fight it, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said in his usual clipped tone. "See through the pain and you will be able to break the curse, no matter how powerful the wizard. Just like the Imperius Curse, it could be vanquished."

Draco could only gasp as he lay in a fetal position on the floor.

With a disgusted sigh, Lucius released him from the curse and yanked him off the floor by the arm, ignoring the pained yelp as he tossed his son in the direction of a padded chair. He watched Draco trying to arrange himself with as much dignity he could muster in the face of his ire.

"Would you care to explain to me what just happened?" Lucius’s tone was hardly reassuring.

"Father, I… I…," Draco stammered. "I couldn’t do it." He looked shamefacedly away.

"I will have none of that," Lucius replied sternly. "You can and you will. I expect Harry Potter to have an able enough constitution to withstand most wizardly attacks, having defeated the Dark Lord, and I will not have my son become second best to the whelp of a sorry excuse for a wizard and a Mudblood witch!"

Those words cut deep.

Harry Potter.

That name again.

"Father, how many times do I have to tell you that I am NOT Harry Potter!" Draco shouted, enraged. "You said so yourself that different wizards have different strengths, hence the different specialties and occupations."

"How dare you talk to your father that way!"

Narcissa Malfoy had entered the fray.

"Mother, please…," Draco began. This battle was not taking a desirable turn.

"I expect you to show more consideration towards your father’s efforts to advance your training in the magical arts at the risk of being investigated by the Ministry," she said, cutting him off. "I cannot understand how I could have raised such an ungrateful child."

"But he’s been comparing me to him again!" Draco protested.

"As well he should," Narcissa replied coldly. "You must surpass the abilities of young Harry Potter, as well as any other wizard. After all, you are a Malfoy."

Draco lifted his chin stubbornly. "And if I don’t?"

Narcissa wrapped her arm around Lucius’s. "Then you are not worthy of the name."

With that, they turned and left. Draco could only hug his knees to his chest as he willed back tears at the injustice of it all.

He was only five years old.

***

"Draco? Might I have a word?"

He turned and came face to face with Pansy Parkinson. Crabbe and Goyle stopped in their tracks to await his commands.

"Uhm, alone, please?" she said, mildly embarrassed.

Draco signaled for the two to go on ahead as Pansy led him into an empty classroom.

"Well?" he said, crossing is arms impatiently.

"Do you… uhm…,” Pansy began, her cheeks taking on a red tinge.

Draco imagined that, as unlikely an event as it could be, that was what a tipsy pug would’ve looked like.

"Remember when you asked me to the Yule Ball?"

"If you wish to thank me for that honor, Pansy, I would remind you that you already have."

"NO!" Pansy exclaimed, her eyes widening. "No, it’s not that. It’s just that… since then, I’ve found myself thinking about you more."

<Tipsy has now graduated to drunk,> Draco thought. "Am I correct in assuming that you are declaring your love, or at the very least, a fascination towards me?"

Pansy looked up with an expression of mixed relief and hope. "In a word, yes."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t believe I share the same sentiment." He gave her his most charming smile and turned towards the door.

"But the Yule Ball…."

"For lack of a better choice, Parkinson. It would be most unforgivable for the son of Lucius Malfoy to attend without an escort."

With that, he exited the room, leaving a shocked Pansy gaping after him.

<Love, what a ridiculous notion,> he thought as he entered Slytherin House.

After all, how is it possible for someone to love when he has never known it all his life?

***** End *****

© Lady Aria, August 2003.