Nox Noctis (Night of Darkness)

Rhea Summers

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 4
Published: 02/06/2003
Last Updated: 12/06/2003
Status: in_progress

Power, Ambition and Dreams – the very essence of a riveting drama involving the lives of five students in Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy plays a game full of lies and betrayal as he baits his pawn, Ginny Weasley, closer into his embrace. The story unfolds further with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley as deceptions threaten to shake the very foundation of their friendship. This is the story of five students with five entwined destines. (D/G, H/Hr, minor J/L)

Chapters

1. Chapter One

2. untitled

3. untitled

4. untitled

5. untitled

1. Chapter One

Title: Nox Noctis (1/?)
Author name:
Rhea Summers

Category: Drama, Romance, Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers alert: All four books

Summary:
Power, Ambition and Dreams - the very essence of a riveting drama involving the lives of five students in Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy plays a game full of lies and betrayal as he baits his pawn, Ginny Weasley, closer into his embrace. The story unfolds further with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley as deceptions threaten to shake the very foundation of their friendship. This is the story of five students with five entwined destines.

Disclaimer:
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. However, this story is also based very loosely on JRR Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings' and it belongs to all parties concerned. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's notes:
Nox Noctis means Darkness in Latin, and we shall see Harry Potter and the people around him embark on a journey of love, trust and adventure. Many thanks to my betas who are extremely patient with me, and without these great people, this story may never be here in the first place.

Bright emerald eyes stared fixedly at the low wooden ceiling. A small stream of light floated through the metal grill of the mouthpiece attached to the door, illuminating the narrow cupboard under the stairs which he called his room. Tousle-haired and silent, Harry Potter rested on his small couch with his hands under his head. His Potions assignment lay half-done on the tiny wooden table next to him.

Harry sighed despondently. There was no way he could write a good essay on Potions. He had never liked Potions. It might be because Snape made the subject so difficult for him to comprehend. To top that, Snape always favored students from his own house, Slytherin. Charms and Defense Against Dark Arts were a lot more fun.

Yes, especially the latter.

Harry's concentration broke when a series of comical exploding sounds went off. He recognized these loud noises as coming from Dudley's new PlayStation II upstairs. It was a new set that Dudley had gotten after he threw the original machine out of the window in one of his temper tantrums. Uncle Vernon never thought twice when it came to spending money on his son. Being the spoilt teenager he was, Dudley still bullied Harry at every opportunity possible, and it was all because he couldn't use magic outside Hogwarts. Magic was expressly forbidden for underage wizards; they couldn't even use it when with other wizards, much less in front of Muggles. Harry had no choice but to put up with Dudley's antics since the Ministry of Magic had once sent him a warning letter, and getting expelled from Hogwarts was at the bottom of his to-do list.

Harry gazed listlessly at the dusty ceiling boards. Summer vacation had never been this boring. Only a fortnight had passed since Harry came back from Hogwarts. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had been exceptionally civilized towards him after Sirius Black actually paid the Dursleys a visit before he came back to Privet Drive for his holidays. Harry grinned at the mental image of Uncle Vernon shaking from head to toe and Aunt Petunia screaming her head off after Sirius introduced himself as his godfather.

Yes, the man who killed dozens of Muggles in a single blast, the murderer who escaped from prison had turned up on their doorsteps. That should have been enough to scare the Dursleys out of their wits. Added to their intense dislike for the Potters, Sirius didn't face any trouble upon getting their written consent to transfer Harry's guardianship over to him. In fact, Uncle Vernon would be more than obliged to scrawl his ugly signature on that form Sirius had obtained with so much difficulty from the Muggle Home Ministry. Obviously, the welfare officers there didn't believe that the ex-prisoner was financially capable of feeding Harry after turning up in poorly chosen Muggle clothing.

Harry smiled happily. Merely weeks before, Sirius was finally acquitted of the murder charges that the Legal Department of Magic used to throw him behind bars in Azkaban, and that was after some Aurors caught up with Wormtail. How could Sirius murder someone who was still alive years after? As expected, Sirius Black appeared in the headlines of the Daily Prophet for a fortnight and everyone in the wizarding world was shocked by how the Ministry of Magic had conducted their investigations.

Cornelius Fudge didn't take that piece of news well at all. The Daily Prophet had reported every single detail of Wormtail's near-arrest and it had caused a minor uproar in the wizarding community. Editorial letters about the competency of the Ministry of Magic started appearing in popular wizarding newspapers and some wizards had even sent howlers to Fudge's desk when he blatantly refused to acknowledge the injustice done to Sirius. Finally, after a dozen cream pies and a dozen eggs hit Cornelius Fudge during an official speech, he broke down and issued a public apology to Sirius besides handing a rich sum of Galleons over to him.

Sirius is a free man now, Harry mused. Free from the Dementors and Azkaban. Being on the run for more than three years was hard work, but no amount of money would make that haunted and empty look in his eyes go away. It would never be the same again.

Harry wished fervently that Sirius would recover gradually. He was someone who had loved Harry as a son, and if there was anyone Harry would die willingly for, it was Sirius. He had kept his promise well. Finally, Harry had a home to call his own after 16 years. A smile lit up Harry's face. He would be spending his next summer at Sirius' place. Not this time, though. Sirius felt that Harry still needed protection from You-Know-Who, and the only way was to either remain in Hogwarts or live with a blood relative. No matter how tortured the boy seemed to be whilst spending time with the Dursleys, he was safe there. All the same, it was because of Harry's well-being and safety, which prompted Sirius to make such a decision. It was impossible to not feel touched by all those risks that Sirius had taken to ensure his safety.

At least Wormtail was already dead. Harry swore he saw pity flashed across Sirius' face when he stood there, looking at the bloody mess that was once Wormtail, that poor excuse for a wizard. Sirius was the type to be extremely loyal to his friends, no matter how badly they had betrayed him. True, Sirius wanted to kill Wormtail back then and would probably had if Harry hadn't stopped him, but there was a difference between wanting to butcher someone and seeing that person dead before you. After all, they had known each other since their schooldays and had gone through many adventures together as the 'Four Marauders' of Hogwarts.

Again, Harry thought he saw pain in Sirius' eyes at that very moment they walked into the sacrificial ceremony.

It wasn't a very nice scene when some Aurors found Wormtail's body lying in pieces in that secluded village in Wales. Apparently, Peter Pettigrew met his end with some violent and forgotten form of Dark Arts. The silvery right hand Voldemort gave him during the Resurrection was missing and Hermione even retched when she walked in with Ron. Harry squeezed his eyes shut in a feeble attempt to drive the gruesome memory out of his head. There was a lot of blood on the marble floors of the abandoned house. Wormtail's heart was torn out using a blunt instrument and Harry would never forget that terror etched on his still face. Only the Dark Arts would use a human sacrifice...

*What is Voldemort up to?* Harry wondered, his heartbeat growing faster. They hadn't encountered Voldemort directly over the past two years. Harry gritted his teeth. With every passing second, more and more wizards are drawn to the Dark Side, enticed by more power and wealth. Efforts to find Voldemort hadn't been successful and the Death Eaters had disguised their traces too well for Aurors to track them down. When they finally managed to catch the wind of the Dark Lord performing an ancient and forgotten ritual, Wormtail was dead well before they even reached the scene.

Voldemort... Harry shuddered involuntarily. For every year of his life since he was eleven, the Dark Lord had tried to kill him through numerous innovative ways. So far, the most terrifying attempt had been during the Triwizard Tournament, the same Tournament that Cedric Diggory had died.

Harry felt a stab of pain shoot through his heart. If Harry Potter hadn't suggested that both of them hold the Triwizard Cup together, Cedric wouldn't have been killed in the first place. If Harry Potter weren't at Hogwarts, Cedric wouldn't have died. If Harry Potter hadn't been born, Cedric and Cho would still be together happily. At the thought of Cho, he clenched his jaw. No doubt he had gotten over his crush on her since Cedric's death, but he still cared a lot for her. Cho was never the outgoing and popular Ravenclaw Seeker again. After the tragedy, she kept mostly to herself and hardly spoke to anyone else outside her small clique.

Harry wasn't sure either he or Cho would be able to get over Cedric's death entirely.

Thanks to Voldemort, the life of another innocent person was destroyed.

Sirius and Dumbledore's voices echoed in his head again. They said that it wasn't his fault that Cedric had died. It was all Voldemort's fault. Harry clenched his fists. Nevertheless, he felt guilty. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory's expression of heartbreaking grief and sorrow as they stood beside Cedric's coffin during his funeral would be with him for the rest of his life.

Voldemort's powers were growing, Harry was sure of it. His lightning scar throbbed dully every now and then. Professor Dumbledore was deeply concerned about these sensations and he made sure that Harry kept reporting back to Hogwarts via owl mail each Friday. Other than the occasional letter Sirius sent him, Harry had no news of the wizarding world outside. Subscriptions to the Daily Prophet did not cover Muggle residence areas for the fear of being picked up by nosy Muggles.

Harry inhaled deeply and held his breath. He would worry about that later. Professor Dumbledore had assured him that Voldemort would not be able to strike anywhere near the Dursleys, and of course, he was safe when he was at Hogwarts. Forcibly pushing that forlorn feeling aside, Harry sat up and concentrated again on his unfinished Potions essay.

"'Mandrake roots and Deadly Nightshade: An Analogy of Usages and Effects on Potions'. A typical Snape topic. Hermione may be able to help me on this..." Harry said wistfully and he reloaded his quill with black ink. Starting to scrawl a sentence on a new piece of parchment, his mind ran to and fro thinking about Mandrake roots and his best friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.

Harry wanted to send Hermione a letter via owl post, but she hadn't returned from her trip to Bulgaria with Ginny, Ron's little sister. Ron hadn't been very happy when he heard the two of them were going to spend the summer with Viktor Krum and he made a lot of objections, but Hermione didn't seem to listen to any of his reasoning that Krum could be another Dark Wizard in making. Besides, Hermione had wanted Ginny to go along since Viktor Krum had extended an invitation for her to visit him. Harry still did not get what Hermione saw in Krum. No, the Bulgarian seeker couldn't be labeled as handsome nor dashing. In fact, he was even a little duck-footed and had round shoulders.

*Well, he 'is' a World Famous Seeker,* Harry concluded as he closed his eyes. Imagination was an easy way to pass time. Harry imagined himself flying on his Firebolt on the Quidditch Pitch, cheered on by thousands witches and wizards. He was wearing the navy blue robes of the English National Quidditch Team and his name was embroidered in gold on the back of the robes. With the long sleeves flowing in the crisp air, he waved at the crowd who greeted him with thunderous applause.

Blinking his eyes open, Harry smiled. Hermione would not be impressed if he were indeed a national Quidditch player. However, being Hermione, she had not forgotten to send Harry his birthday present in advance. Casting a glance at the floorboard, Harry couldn't hold back another grin. His presents were all hidden beneath some loose planks. With his birthday coming up in a few days' time, Harry would be able to see what she had gotten him this time.

Writing to Hagrid didn't make much sense now, since he was no longer at Hogwarts for summer. Reaching under his pillow, he picked up Hagrid's sole letter scrawled in his large and uneven script, and started to read the short note again.

Dear Harry,
I won't be at Hogwarts for a year now. Olympe has invited me to visit Beauxbaton and I have agreed to teach at that school for a year. Don't worry about your classes. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will find a good replacement for your Care of Magical Creatures class before the term starts. Stay strong.
Love, Hagrid

Harry gave a small chuckle. He was happy for Hagrid that the half-giant had found someone to share his life with. Nothing would make Harry happier than to see his closest friends enjoying a meaningful life. *Who would be the new Care of Magical Creatures teacher then?* Harry wondered and scratched his messy mop of hair. Mad-Eye Moody had taken up the Defense Against Dark Arts position for two years in a row now after the ex-Auror decided that Hogwarts was relatively safer from attacks by his enemies than his home.

And the real Mad-Eye Moody was also just as super-cool as the fake Moody during classes. Harry snickered at the term Fred and George coined to describe Moody.

As for Ron, he had just sent a letter earlier in the day to say that Harry was welcome to visit the Burrow sometime next week when Bill and Charlie were due to return home for their annual leave. According to Ron, Mr. Weasley had finally promised him a well-deserved trip to his office at the Ministry of Magic. Being Ron's best friend, Harry would not be left out in anything like this. Besides, Harry was eager to visit the twins' newly opened joke shop in Diagon Alley.

Pulling out another leaf of parchment, Harry began writing a note to Ron, saying that he would love to go along and that he missed Mrs. Weasley's fantastic cooking. Harry's stomach clenched pitifully at the thought of food. Dudley hadn't been able to shed any weight and Aunt Petunia was still continuing with that horrendous diet of celery sticks and grapefruit, which everyone in the family had to follow. Harry suspected Dudley hadn't been adamant in losing weight since he caught the other boy sneaking in a chocolate cake the other night when he thought no-one was watching.

Satisfied with his short note to Ron, Harry leaned back on his small couch again and took of his glasses. It was half past two in the afternoon and the weather was getting warm and humid. Slowly, drowsiness began to smother him and he sank into a deep slumber.

Draco Malfoy gazed aimlessly around. His silvery hair brushing his cheek, he swept it aside in a frustrated movement. Crossing his legs, he leaned back into a chair and took a sip from his champagne glass. As usual, his mother had thrown him a grand birthday party and had invited a lot of guests.

The sad thing was, he barely knew half of the people milling around the ballroom, save for his Slytherin housemates and their parents. It had been the same for every year. Every morning on his birthday, he would wake up to a host of house elves that would then dress him up in his finest before walking downstairs into crowds and crowds of people. Later at night, he would open his presents alone with nobody to share his excitement with.

It was getting predictable, damn it.

Even the decorations were the same. The walls were draped with paintings of gory battle scenes from the last three Goblin Revolutions with moving figures of wizards getting hacked into pieces by evil-looking scythes commonly used by goblin warriors. Floating near the paintings were lighted black candles of every size imaginable in true Malfoy tradition. The only difference was that a huge crystal ball stood on a mahogany stand on the stage in the center of the hall.

Just then, a girl dressed in an elegant black evening gown walked up to him. Draco noticed that she was a Slytherin - Blaise Zabini, to be exact, who shared many of his classes. Holding up her glass, she took a sip and smiled seductively.

"Hello, Draco. How is the birthday boy doing?" she started and inched closer to Draco until their legs were nearly touching.

"Hello, Blaise," he drawled lazily and got up from his seat, taking a step away from the girl. "I'm doing fine, no thanks to that strong perfume of yours."

Blaise Zabini scowled and took another sip of her champagne. "So, what did you get this year? A Firebolt?"

Draco shrugged and flashed a sarcastic smile at her. "Maybe? Who knows? My birthday present might be that space-wasting crystal ball obstructing my view right now?"

"That is no ordinary crystal ball, Draco. Father says that it is the Orb of Nox Noctis," Blaise interjected and frowned, annoyed at Draco's impromptu display of ignorance.

"So what?" Draco shrugged again and started to walk away until he could no longer feel Blaise's glare boring into his back. On and off, he managed to catch some of the gossip and chatter flying around him. Standing casually in a small crowd of wizards, Draco busied himself with his cuffs as he listened to the conversation among them.

"So the Dark Lord is coming tonight? There are rumors going about that he's got an important announcement planned? Has anybody mentioned what it's about to you?"

"Well, I gathered some information that there are new developments on the Dark Lord's part. I think it is about the Heir of Slytherin, I heard," a second voice answered.

Draco looked up mildly with interest. That was something. It was always a topic for a heated debate on the Heir of Slytherin issue in the wizarding community. In Hogwarts, the Hufflepuffs once believed that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin. Later, he overheard from Harry Potter and his pathetic friends that Lord Voldemort was the true Heir of Slytherin. Either way, Draco was not keen to know more. The Chamber of Secrets had been opened and the Heir of Slytherin would only remain as a title to scare off timid wizards.

Yes, timid and brainless wizards like Neville Longbottom would be good targets for a scare.

Draco then wandered aimlessly among groups of wizards, a few of whom who were actually shaking his hand to say 'Happy Birthday.' Sighing, he made his way towards his parents who were standing below the stage as he caught a glimpse of his mother's silver blonde hair. *There are advantages in having very light hair color,* Draco thought dryly. *Especially when it comes to the point of finding someone in a crowd.*

Standing next to his parents, Draco shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His father was busy talking to another wizard whom Draco recognized as Avery, a suspected Death Eater, while his mother was busy playing hostess. Draco sulked and folded his arms. He resented the way his birthday was celebrated. True, this was his 17th birthday, an important day for every wizard and witch in the magic community. After this day, he could practice magic outside Hogwarts and take the Apparation test, although he knew how to Apparate illegally since his father taught him how at a young age of fourteen.

This day represented his coming of age, yet his parents treated it as just another of their social events.

Draco frowned. This was getting pointless. As he turned to walk towards the staircase leading to his bedroom, the black candles were snuffed out suddenly and the room dimmed considerably. The only source of light was from the Orb and the chatter had died down considerably. Draco looked back, his legs rooted to the ground beneath him.

The large entrance doors were thrown open suddenly and a hooded figure flanked by another two wizards in black robes strode in. Every guest in the hall bowed at the figure.

"Master..." a low murmur swept through the room.

"Lord Voldemort," Draco whispered softly.

He saw himself standing at the edge of a huge ballroom. The spacious hall was decked with floating black candles were arranged meticulously by the walls and at the center of the room was a crystal ball the size of a football. Colors swirled within it strangely, and wizards and witches were milling around it.

Dark Wizards.

He felt a shiver force its way down his spine. Those are no ordinary magical folk. They were practitioners of the Dark Arts, as he could recognize several faces among the crowd. Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Parkinson, Avery and.... Malfoy! Lucius Malfoy! The tall man was standing on the small stage erected behind the crystal ball, flanked by several thuggish looking wizards. Lucius Malfoy's face was twisted into a smirk as the wizards around him erupted into mirthless laughter.

He looked around. Loud chatter was there in every corner of the room and the wizards were talking in an excited manner; he was confused. Why didn't anyone notice him standing there? He was Harry Potter and all Death Eaters loyal to Voldemort were eager to get at him.

Just then, three adult wizards strolled past Harry and he could hear the conversation among them clearly. The one with the dark blue robes mentioned something about the fact that a young heir to evil would be revealed and that rumors said he would be a child of a loyal Death Eater. The wizard standing next him then interrupted by saying that an important officer from the Ministry of Magic had deflected over to the Dark side to which the last wizard retorted by saying it was old news.

*Had someone important from the Ministry deflected? Who might be the one?* he wondered. For all he knew, it couldn't be Mr. Weasley. He was sure that there were many suspected Death Eaters working for the Ministry, but none of them actually landed in Azkaban due to 'the lack of working evidence.' That was another one of the Ministry's numerous botch-ups for failing to catch every Death Eater when they had the chance.

He was about to turn and walk away, the lights in the room suddenly dimmed. The black candles by the sides had been extinguished and the only source of illumination was from the crystal ball. In the darkened space, the orb seemed to glow even brighter than before, emitting a distinct evil aura around it. His eyes narrowed as a hushed silence dawned upon the large crowd in the room.

The ancient wooden doors swung open creakily at the other end of the room and a single hooded wizard walked in. Everyone in the hall bowed low and removed their hoods. The mysterious figure strode onto the stage and stood in front of the swirling crystal ball. Harry felt a stab of pain on his forehead but he refrained from making any sound or abrupt movement.

"Master..." a low murmur swept through the guests. Then the imposing figure spoke in a low baritone as the crystal ball changed color to a bloody red. Harry sucked in his breath. Master? Voldemort? It couldn't be. The Dark Lord had a shrill voice, not the one he was hearing at the moment. He looked straight at the hooded man, trying to catch a better glimpse.

Everyone kept their heads bowed as the dark figure spoke about the greatness of Dark Arts. Harry strained to hear more of the speech, but his attention shifted over to Lucius Malfoy. Standing beside his father was Draco Malfoy, his pale face contrasting sharply with his smart black robes.

Draco Malfoy? What was he doing in a congregation of Dark Wizards? Malfoy looked smug, he noticed. Suddenly, the deep baritone grew louder and he couldn't help but looked at the mysterious hooded figure again. Now, he didn't have to strain to listen. The words were floating to him in a very clear manner.

"It shall not be long before evil shall reign over the wizarding world. I am Lord Voldemort and I shall lead the Dark Arts back into its former glory! Pride yourselves for having the Dark Mark branded on your arm!" Clapping hands accompanied that bold statement and Harry cringed. It was Voldemort all right. Nobody but him would make that kind of statement to his loyal team of followers.

The hooded figure paused for the noise to die down before continuing. Harry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it. This was a gathering of Death Eaters and Voldemort was probably giving a motivational speech at this recruitment party.

"Tonight shall be rebirth of the True Heir of Slytherin and the Dark Mark shall command more terror and fear than before!" Hushed whispers began to spread.

*Isn't Lord Voldemort the last remaining heir of Slytherin? If so, why is there a 'true' heir? What did he intend to say when he claimed that a rebirth shall take place tonight?* Questions hounded Harry but for every possible solution he thought up, another twenty issues sprang in its place.

"Tonight I shall reveal who the True Heir of Slytherin is. He is standing among us now!" Voldemort shouted, his voice loud with rapture. The crowed suddenly went silent again and everyone bowed even lower. The entire hall was deathly quiet. For once, Harry thought he heard someone's lungs popping from holding his breath. Inching backwards, he was afraid to hear the name being announced.

"Come here, son of Lucius Malfoy," the Dark Lord whispered smoothly, barely loud enough to be heard across the hall. Harry narrowed his eyes as Draco Malfoy walked steadily towards Voldemort. With a flick of Voldemort's wand, Draco's robes dropped to the ground in pile, leaving him dressed in a white linen shirt and sleek black pants.

"Now stretch out your hands and lay them on the Orb of Nox Noctis," Voldemort commanded and Harry saw Draco Malfoy lift up his hands. In the dim light, he could see that Draco was trembling. Whether it was out of anticipation of being the Heir of Slytherin or just purely out of fear, he didn't know.

As Draco's fingers made contact with the crystal ball, the audience gasped. Nothing happened. The crystal ball was still swirling a blood red color. Draco's face burned with humiliation and the expression quickly changed from shock to anger. He looked up searchingly at Voldemort.

There was no answer. Voldemort only held up his wand and shouted, "Apertum Acclario!"

A ray of white light shot out from his wand and hit Draco on his chest. The boy stumbled backwards as he tried to steady himself from the charm's direct hit. Harry's eyes met Draco's for a brief moment but those gray eyes didn't seem to notice him. A loud gasp echoed through the crowd but silence quickly resumed its reign as every witch and wizard looked on with pure curiosity.

As if feeling the weight of the onlookers, Draco stood there panting heavily as his face contorted into a mixture of pain and pleasure. Suddenly, he let out an ear-splitting scream and doubled over, his hands clutching his chest. Draco tumbled onto his side and groaned aloud, his limbs jerking and twitching uncontrollably. Narcissa tried to rush forward to help Draco, but was held back by Lucius Malfoy. As he rolled on the ground with agony, Harry winced in spite of himself. Draco looked like he had been hit by the most torturous of all illegal spells - the Cruciatus curse.

"Stand up!" Lord Voldemort ordered and two of the Death Eaters stood forward to hoist Draco up. His breathing was haggard and he looked up at Lord Voldemort with fear.

"Now place your fingers on the Orb of Nox Noctis again."

Obediently, Draco reached out and touched the Orb shakily. As his fingers made contact with the glass surface, the colors within the sphere swirled green immediately, lighting the hall an eerie shade of emerald. The Orb began to crackle and sputter as static force surrounded it. As strong as a full-blown gale, a burst of energy swept through the room, toppling many of the people crouching in front of the stage. Instinctively, Harry raised his arms to block the impact and he could hear screams and shouts echoing in the hall. Leaning against the wall behind him, Harry braced himself for the full blast.

But it never came.

Tentatively, Harry lowered his arms. Instead of Draco looking exhausted and spent, he saw something else unexpected. A huge silver serpent was coiled protectively around Draco and Orb of Nox Noctis. Its gigantic head was reared and looking ready to strike. Draco smiled smugly as he took out his wand and pointed it towards the ceiling. Green sparks erupted from the tip and the silver serpent slowly melted into a mist as it spiraled upwards, growing smaller and smaller before coiling around Draco's left arm. Slowly, the serpent melted into Draco's arm and vanished from sight. The crowd was so awestruck that nobody made a single comment or budged a muscle, save for a few surprised 'ahh's.

"Roll up your left sleeve," came Voldemort's instructions once the ballroom became deathly silent again. Draco simply nodded and pushed up the linen of his shirt. Along the length of his exposed upper arm was a tattoo of a silver snake coiled around his limb. Harry couldn't help giving a surprised gasp. He had seen the Dark Mark before and it was nothing like this.

Draco's newly acquired tattoo was beautiful and majestic, very much like the serpent emblazoned on the Hogwarts coat of arms.

"True Heir of Slytherin is revealed and may Evil rise again!" Lord Voldemort declared and the entire hall swept down into a deep bow. Evenly, hundreds of voices, male or female, began chanting a pledge to uphold the Dark Arts and stay loyal to Lord Voldemort and the True Heir of Slytherin.

"And this shall be the beginning of the end for Harry Potter!" Lord Voldemort laughed and aimed his wand directly at the place where Harry was standing. A curse raced out from the tip and sped towards him at the speed of lightning. Before he had a chance to duck, the cruse hit him squarely on his chest, and blinding searing pain shot down his spine.

He screamed before darkness rested her black wings over him.

Draco Malfoy was stunned. He thought he saw the Dark Lord's curse penetrate Harry Potter, but logical thinking set in quickly enough. How could Potter be present at Malfoy Manor without his father knowing? For all he knew, Potter could still be at his Muggle relatives' house for summer.

Draco massaged his temples gently. He was still reeling from the Apertum spell cast on him. Unconsciously, a hand reached down to clutch his chest and he was relieved to find that the burning pain had died down to a dull pounding. The earlier wrenching sensation was still very much alive in his memory. It was as if.... as if something was trying to tear his heart out while he watched. Draco shoved the grisly mental image aside and tried to concentrate on the hushed whispering around him.

Draco didn't have to try for long. His attention was soon diverted by the gleaming new tattoo on his arm. It was beautiful, the way the serpent coiled around his arm. The serpent was the Slytherin magical creature and with it now branded on his arm, Draco felt somewhat.... different.

Bony fingers snaked around his wrist and pulled it up into the air. "Look, my loyal Death Eaters. This is the mark of Salazar Slytherin himself and only a direct pure blood descendant every seven generations will have the privilege of becoming a true heir."

"Why now, not earlier?" Draco muttered under his breath. "That would save me a lot of trouble from Potter if I know I'm the Heir of Slytherin and I could go to Dumstrang instead of Hogwarts, that mudblood-loving school."

The grip around his wrist tightened and Draco looked up in surprise. Lord Voldemort heard them and laughed. "Boy, don't you know that every Heir of Slytherin will only be able to demonstrate their true position and powers after their 17th birthday?"

"What about you? I thought you were the Heir of Slytherin..." the question and comment blurted out before Draco could hold his tongue. This contradiction had been disturbing him since Lord Voldemort had announced him as the Heir. He had overheard from some Gryffindor students that Lord Voldemort was the last remaining heir of Slytherin, so how could he be one when Lucius Malfoy was his father? Could it be....? He sneaked a wary look at his pale mother half hidden by his father's cloak. Peeling his eyes away, Draco hated to speculate more on this matter.

"Me? How could I be the Heir of Slytherin when my biological father is a Muggle? Slytherin and Gryffindor heir blood could only be passed on to sons whereas only daughters could carry the heir title for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

Voldemort turned to face Draco upon seeing his confused look. "True, my mother had Slytherin blood which gave me the ability to speak in Parseltongue and the talent in Dark Arts, but I'll never be the true heir," Lord Voldemort laughed maliciously and released Draco's wrist.

"But Dumbledore..." Draco began but Lord Voldemort cut him off.

"What does Albus Dumbledore know? Perhaps he gleaned all information from 'Hogwarts: A History'. Always expect the unexpected, Heir." Draco could only nod submissively. Today was supposed to be his birthday, and look what he got for a present. Today, he was the Heir of Slytherin. *Life's a Quidditch pitch. You get hit by bludgers when you least expected,* Draco thought wryly as he replaced his wand back into the pocket of his trousers.

"Now, we only need one more Dark Arts artifact before we can gain control of the wizarding world. The One artifact which only the Heir of Slytherin will be able to wield at his command," said Lord Voldemort, addressing the crowd. Seeing that everyone's attention was on him, he placed a bony palm on top of the Orb of Nox Noctis and the different colors began to swirl again.

"One thousand years ago, Salazar Slytherin created a magical ring which is conjured out of pure evil; so powerful it is that no White Wizard has dared to touch it for the fear of being drawn over to the dark side. It is said that the ring has a soul of its own and exhibits only the ugly side of humans. Greed for power, wealth and fame; and the one ring can satisfy them all."

Draco sucked in his breath. He didn't know such object existed in this world. If so, why hadn't any books mentioned about it? Where was it kept then? Surely not at Gringotts, for Lord Voldemort had said that the lure of the ring was too tempting for any White Wizard to touch it, let alone those greedy goblins.

The steady stream of questions in Draco's head was broken by the sudden change of colors in the Orb of Nox Noctis. The swirling clouds had taken on a black and gold tinge. Slowly, those colors darkened and condensed into a circular shape. Within the next few seconds, an image of a simple gold ring was formed. Draco's keen sight soon caught a line of unrecognizable words carved onto the body of the ring and his eyes narrowed into slits as he strained to see the lilting letters traced across the outer edge of the golden band.

"This is the Ring. The One Ring which will rule them all."

At the mention of the ring, everyone in the hall went down onto their knees and touched the floor with their foreheads, their arms outstretched before them. Draco nearly jumped back when he saw that even his father was doing this ancient ritual. He had seen in some books concerning the Dark Arts that this was the highest type of respect any Dark Wizard would show. What else could the ring do other than fulfilling a man's desires? Draco was tempted to ask Lord Voldemort that question, but bit back his words. He knew better than to interrupt a serious ceremony like this one.

When everyone stood up again, Lord Voldemort continued in a low and sinister tone. "The One Ring does not only give powers. It brings out your heart's deepest desires. It brings out the animalistic side of each living human, wizard or Muggle alike. With the Ring, we can create armies of Dementors who will aid us in the rising of the Dark Empire. With the Ring, more wizards and witches will join us. With the Ring, everything is in our hands."

"And no, the Ring was not hidden away after Salazar Slytherin died. During the Dark Ages, the Ring belonged to Dark Wizard Aethelwulf who was the first Heir of Slytherin after seven generations, and terror reigned over the lands of England. It was then Great Wizard Merlin who finally halted the Ring from bringing more evil into this world. The owner was banished into eternal darkness; but Merlin knew that the Ring could not be destroyed by mortal flame. The Great Wizard himself could only keep the ring away in a secret place both near and far to each of us."

*Both far and near to each of us,* Draco repeated mentally. *Lord Voldemort can be so dramatic when he wants to.*

"And Great Wizard Merlin cursed the Ring with a prophecy. He foretold that any future Heirs of Slytherin who open the box containing the Ring shall mark the beginning of a great battle between the Whites and the Darks, the good and the evil. Finally, the victorious side shall rule the world with the Ring."

Lord Voldemort released his hands from the Orb and the image of the Ring dissipated in a burst of flames. Turning to face Draco, the Dark Lord spoke again. "And you, Heir of Slytherin, shall find the Ring as only an Heir can open the enchanted box which holds it."

"Where?" Draco asked, fascinated by boundless hopes the Ring provided. Amazed he was, but he had no clue on where to start.

"In the Heart of Hogwarts."

Heart of Hogwarts? Draco opened his mouth to ask more questions but Lord Voldemort raised up a hand to stop him.

"Ask no questions, Heir. It is your task to solve the riddle Great Wizard Merlin had given us."

Draco stepped back as Lord Voldemort turned around and started walking down the stage, flanked by two of his Death Eaters. Seeing that the Dark Lord had left, the crowd started pouring out of doors on both sides of the room, leaving Draco standing alone on the stage.

"Draco, I hope you are happy with this gift from our Master," said a feminine voice beside him. Draco turned his head and grinned smugly at his mother as realization kicked in.

"Which birthday boy wouldn't be? I'm the Heir of Slytherin," Draco answered with a laugh and walked down from the stage.

Bolting upright, Harry groped around for his glasses. His T-shirt was drenched in sweat and his breathing was fast and haggard. Harry forced himself to calm down and breathe evenly.

*It was only a dream... Only a dream...* said a voice in his head, but Harry wasn't convinced. It seemed too real, with Voldemort addressing the Death Eaters and Malfoy... Harry stopped himself. Malfoy couldn't be... He couldn't be the true Heir of Slytherin. Tom Marvolo Riddle was. Tom Riddle had Slytherin blood in him and he was the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Professor Dumbledore had told Harry that.

A million questions and worries swam in his head and Harry could feel the scar on his forehead throb painfully again. He wished there was someone he could talk to, not just Hedwig. The white owl crooned and shuffled around her perch, staring curiously at Harry.

Suddenly, the Sneakoscope on his desk spun wildly and Harry looked up in surprise. Before he could even gather himself to think properly, a loud booming voice rang out, "Harry! Get your face out this very moment before... before I decide not to give you dinner for a week!"

Uncle Vernon's face appeared at the grill of the door and growled at him menacingly. Harry shrunk back against his will and nodded. Uncle Vernon glared daggers at him and gave the wooden door a clumsy kick that made sawdust fall over Harry.

"Now, that is definitely not the way to speak to Harry Potter," another voice sounded discreetly behind Uncle Vernon with a soft cough.

Coming up next chapter:
Who is the mysterious person who wanted to meet Harry? What did he want from Harry? Who is the top-ranking officer in Ministry of Magic who defected to the Dark Side? What is in store for Draco and the Ring? Ginny will make her debut in the next chapter as we see a rather 'unique' dream through her eyes.

2. untitled

Wong Siew Lee Normal Wong Siew Lee 2 22 2003-06-04T03:33:00Z 2003-06-04T03:33:00Z 18 7359 41948 349 83 51515 9.3821

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Title: Nox Noctis (2/?)

Author: Rhea Summers

E-mail: rheasummers@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mystery

Key characters: Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Ginny

Spoilers alert: All four books

Summary: A magical ring once owned by Salazar Slytherin holds many secrets, and Lord Voldemort intends to use it to reverse history. In a twist of events, Draco Malfoy is the new Heir of Slytherin and he has a mission to complete; meanwhile Ginny Weasley experiences strange visions that she cannot explain. Harry Potter embarks on a journey of self-discovery and Hermione Granger makes a painful decision that will change the course of her life. Also, Sirius Black and Severus Snape resolve their long-time feud through unconventional ways. Love triangles galore and do expect lots of surprises.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. However, this story is also based very loosely on JRR Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings' and it belongs to all parties concerned. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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"Sirius!" Harry yelled, thrilled to hear that familiar voice again. Unlatching the door, he rushed out to meet Sirius but stopped short of hugging the man. Uncle Vernon was cowering in a corner of the room, his face purple with rage and fear. Sirius was dressed in a pair of trousers that only came down to his mid calves and a pinstriped shirt with a mismatched tie complete with a shocking red bowler hat.

No wonder Uncle Vernon was both scared and angry at the came time. The Dursleys never thought well of any magical folk, and they especially despised the entire Potter family. Harry cringed as at the memory of Aunt Petunia's harsh words about his mother came ringing in his ears.

"Hey there, Harry," Sirius said in greeting and Harry threw himself into Sirius' arms. "I see you have grown quite a bit over the past two months!"

"Sirius, I'm so glad to see you, but why are you here of all sudden? Is there something wrong with our application?" Harry added worriedly. Half-consciously, he threw a glance at Uncle Vernon's direction and shuddered. The older man didn't look too well and his bushy mustache was bristling like a pair of cat whiskers.

"Well, I just want to make sure that you are fine," Sirius replied simply and shot Mr. Dursley a look before turning back to smile at Harry. "I have brought you your present too, since your birthday is coming up soon."

"Thanks, Sirius," said Harry happily and accepted the large parcel. Walking back into his tiny room, he placed the wrapped package on his couch before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sirius?" Harry turned his head to look into those deep eyes. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Closing the wooden door behind him, Sirius sighed heavily and sat down on Harry's bed. Flashing Harry a nostalgic smile, the older man patted his head. "Well, Harry, you will be 17 in a short while and it really amazes me that you look so much like James and Lily combined." Shooting Harry a wistful look, Sirius placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Harry didn't know what to say. With his eyes downcast, he fixed his focus on the floorboards. Harry knew that he looked a lot like his father, with that mop of messy black hair and a slim build. In the Mirror of Erised and during that duel with Voldemort in his fourth year, he saw his parents once, and it hurt him to think of them. At least he had Sirius now....

"Alright Harry, I'm not here only to talk about James and Lily. I'm here to see that you are healthy and growing strong. Grown quite a bit, eh?" Sirius began as Harry's uneasiness started to show on his face.

"Yes, you're right that I've grown over the weeks here. I have been living off grapefruit and celery sticks for every meal and it's a miracle that I'm still here talking to you," grumbled Harry and crossed his arms. His stomach growled softly again at the mention of food.

"Well, Harry, the school term is starting again in a short while and I'm sure you can't wait to get back to Hogwarts," Sirius chuckled and took off his bowler hat. His hair was getting quite long again but it wasn't matted or tangled, anyhow. "And then, I can sleep well in my bed knowing that Dumbledore can protect you adequately. Like it or not, Harry, you are safe here with the Dursleys."

"So Sirius, how is everything going? I really miss you over the holidays. Hedwig is always sending letters to Hogwarts and I don't have an extra owl to send you one," Harry said and gave Sirius a hug as a warm feeling settled at the pit of his stomach. *Having a Godfather sure beats living with an uncle, an aunty and a cousin who hate your guts,* thought Harry wryly.

"Fine... What about you?"

"I'm fine..." Harry turned to look at Sirius, his stomach forming a tight knot. Memories of the recent dream he had were coming back to him in a mad rush. Part of him wanted to tell Sirius what he saw, yet another side warned him not to add to Sirius' worries. At the thought of Malfoy becoming the latest Heir of Slytherin, Harry's heart did a small lurch. Maybe he was going insane from the pressure of being hunted by Voldemort and his Death Eaters ever since he had entered Hogwarts.

"Harry, are you all right? You look dazed..." Sirius' concerned voice came floating to him again and he shoved away the thoughts that were encircling him, suffocating him.

"I'm fine, Sirius. It's just that I'm worried about our Care of Magical Creatures class, that's all. Hagrid has taken a year's leave from Hogwarts to visit Beauxbatons," Harry lied and cringed. It sounded so stupid after those words came out from his mouth. *Sirius, because you are my godfather, I’m saying something as idiotic as this to let you go home happily,* he added mentally.

"Ah, Dumbledore has solved that problem. Guess who your new Care of Magical Creatures teacher is!" Sirius replied proudly and puffed out his chest.

Harry's eyes widened as his mind came across this very possibility. "Sirius, are you pulling my leg? You are going to take over Hagrid's job for a year? But I thought you have been working for the Ministry as an Auror for nearly over a year now!"

"I'm still an Auror, but I'm commissioned to be an undercover one. Who would you like better for this post: Moony or me?"

"C'mon Sirius, you know I like both of you..." Harry trailed off as his heart leaped for joy at the prospect of Sirius coming to teach at Hogwarts. With this, he would be able to see Sirius every day! But Harry's ecstasy soon turned to curiosity as he calmed down considerably. He wouldn't want Sirius to give up anything meaningful for him. "But why? I thought you hate being bound to responsibilities like teaching."

"Who says I like being responsible? I'm going over to Hogwarts because Dumbledore thinks that you need someone to keep a constant eye on you," answered Sirius and caught Harry's eye again. "Turning 17 is very important for all wizards as it is the coming of age. Dumbledore fears that You-Know-Who may take this opportunity to strike since your magical abilities will reach its height after your graduation from Hogwarts. Besides, Dumbledore wants me to work more closely with that git."

"Git?"

"Snape, that greasy git of a wizard," growled Sirius, his eyebrows knitted in a frown. "Dumbledore said that both you and Snape are always in mortal danger, and I am to act as backup if anything happens to you two."

"What is Snape doing now?" asked Harry, interested to know if the cold Potions Master was still at Hogwarts.

"Dancing arm in arm with Lucius Malfoy, perhaps," retorted Sirius sarcastically. "That git loves the Dark Arts, for all I know, and he wouldn't be wanting my help if he is still sane."

Harry stifled a grin but a twitch by the corner of his mouth showed. What? Sirius protecting Snape? Harry thought he heard Sirius wrong, but judging by the woeful expression on his godfather's face, it was true. Snape would rather take ten bludgers in the face than to let Sirius help him. After all, Severus Snape held grudges against people for extremely long periods of time, especially against James Potter.

What more was there to say? Snape practically hated Sirius' guts after one of his pranks nearly got him killed by Lupin. Or at least, that was what Harry thought so when it came to his understanding of Snape and Sirius' never-ending feud with each other. Anyhow, Harry hadn't doubted Dumbledore once and since the headmaster trusted Snape, Harry felt that he should too, albeit warily. Harry Potter had not been listed in Snape's good books from the very first day in Hogwarts. Then again, it was always a nagging doubt in Harry's heart that Dumbledore might be wrong.

Suddenly, another question dawned on Harry. "Sirius, why did Cornelius Fudge let you go to Hogwarts whilst you are still working for the Ministry? It doesn't seem like him to do that."

"Dumbledore did all the explaining for me; but something strange has happened recently. It seems that Fudge has been disappearing mysteriously over long periods of time, only popping up once in a blue moon," said Sirius, his hand grazing the short stubble on his chin.

"Fudge? What about his duties?" asked Harry, his eyebrows arching in curiosity. Unwittingly, a mental image of Percy Weasley wearing Fudge's trademark pinstriped cloak popped up in his head. After Barty Crouch died, Percy had been made the Minister of International Magic Cooperation and Ron once joked that maybe a Weasley could be the next Minister of Magic. Harry thought of it as a bad joke, though.

Well, not that Sirius liked Barty Crouch at all. He was the one who threw Sirius into Azkaban without giving him a trial and a chance to defend himself. It was people like Crouch who gave indirect opportunities to Voldemort to rise again; like he had let his own son walk free.

Then, Sirius' voice blocked his flow of thoughts. "One of Fudge's assistants took over. A middle-age man named William Hedge, I think. When I first saw him, I thought he looked very familiar and I have seen him where before, but he kept insisting that it was the first time we met. Very intelligent and witty fellow, I say," answered Sirius with a sigh. "It's very mysterious, really. As obstinate Fudge is, he is not the type to leave his office unattended to for so long."

"Fudge... is missing?" mumbled Harry, his eyes fixed on the wall opposite him. Suddenly, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and subconsciously, his recent dream began to flash in front of him. Those Dark Wizards had mentioned about someone in the Ministry Magic defecting over to the Dark Side; but then again, Fudge didn't seem like the type to be enticed by power. He was already the Ministry of Magic, the sole person who had autonomous authority over the entire British Wizarding Community. Well, legal authority, at the very least.

And no, it wasn't because of the Galleons factor, Harry decided. Fudge had plenty himself. With a hard mental shove, he pushed the concept aside. "So is William Hedge good at handling problems?" asked Harry weakly, the joy at seeing Sirius vanishing as his nasty dream weighed down on him.

"I'd say that he is a lot easier to convince than Fudge," answered Sirius slowly, his face showing concern at Harry's abrupt mood change. "Look Harry, if there is anything you want to tell me, I'm always here for you. Dumbledore has mentioned that your scar is hurting again..."

For a second, Harry was tempted to tell Sirius about the unusual vision he had had a moment ago, but it all seemed to be a mere nightmare after all. *How could Draco Malfoy be the Heir of Slytherin?* Harry reasoned and felt the unsettlement in his heart die down a little. It all seemed implausible and ridiculous, and it wasn't worth Sirius worrying his head off for a stupid dream like this. Well, he could Sirius the simplified version, right? Taking in a deep breath, Harry began to talk.

"I had a dream just now, before you came."

"What dream? What did you see?"

"Well, I saw a gathering of Death Eaters like Malfoy, Avery, Crabbe and Goyle. I saw Voldemort too, and he was recruiting Draco Malfoy as the latest addition to his team of Death Eaters," Harry said slowly, omitting important details like the rising of the Heir of Slytherin. It even sounded ridiculous to him now that there would be a serious threat to the world starting with the word 'Draco Malfoy'.

"So Lucius Malfoy finally wants his son to join the ranks of Death Eaters after his footsteps," Sirius sighed softly. "Evil will always be present among us. Sometimes, I wonder even after destroying You-Know-Who, there will be an end to all those Dark Wizards."

Breathing in sharply, Harry tilted his head to look at Sirius straight in the eye as he mustered his most confident look. "Sirius, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Voldemort can't hurt me here. Professor Dumbledore said so." As confident as he might think he was, Harry could still feel a twinge of doubt deep down.

"Alright, if you say so, but always remember to owl Dumbledore and me regularly. I want to know if you feel anything strange and I'll sleep better knowing that you are safe," Sirius replied with a sigh, his eyes betraying the curiosity in him to know more about Harry's dream. Sirius was an intelligent person, and he simply could not buy a simple story like that. Harry seemed obstinate and he was not willing reveal more details to him. There was no point trying to make him talk when he outright refused to cooperate. It was a wonder that James and Harry could be so alike in temperament since Harry had never known his father.

Shaking his head, Sirius stood up and adjusted his hat. "I think I need to leave now. Some of our contacts informed us that some Death Eaters had stolen a Dark Arts artifact from the National Museum of Magic and we need to get it back before You-Know-Who does something ugly with it," said Sirius and paused before continuing. "The break-in is all over the front page of Daily Prophet today," he finished and threw Harry a crumpled copy of the wizarding newspaper.

"Voldemort again?" Harry asked as he unfolded the copy of Daily Prophet. Voldemort. That name brought shivers down Harry's spine. He glanced at the headlines and the moving picture that accompanied it. There was an image of a flashing ball resting on a wooden tripod underneath the headline 'Orb Stolen from Museum'. Harry's eyes widened when he looked at the picture again. This time, the swirling colors in the orb had changed to a bloody red shade.

"Sirius, wait. Is this the Orb of Nox... Nox..." Harry tried furiously to recall the name that Voldemort had mentioned when he told Malfoy to touch it in his dream. Before he could think any further, a searing pain exploded on his forehead and Harry clasped his hands over his face, hearing his own voice scream out loud, slicing the air like a sharp knife.

"Orb of Nox Noctis? How do you kn..." Sirius started but Harry's sudden movements alarmed him. "Harry, what's wrong? Is your scar hurting again?"

Harry could barely hear him over the pain and his own screams. Weakly, he clutched Sirius' arm. "Orb of Nox Noctis... Voldemort... Draco Malfoy... Heir of Slytherin..." Harry tried to string his thoughts together but it all came out incoherently. Feeling Sirius grasp both of his arms, Harry let out a loud groan and stumbled as he tried to stand up.

"Harry, you are going with me to see Dumbledore now! Hold on tightly and I'm going to Apparate straight into Hogsmeade with you!" shouted Sirius and half-carried Harry. Closing his eyes in intense concentration, he muttered a short spell under his breath.

With a soft 'pop', Harry and Sirius vanished into thin air.

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It was past midnight now, yet those steel gray eyes never showed any sign of fatigue. Silence enveloped him and the only source of light was from a dimmed lamp at a far corner of his room. The guests had left long ago and there was no-one else in the house save him and his parents.

He raised the wine glass to his lips, sipping in the bitter concoction. Ruby red wine ran down his throat as a reminder of the reality lying before him. Too many things had happened today and he wasn't sure he could believe that it wasn't only a dream.

He had envisioned himself becoming powerful one day; so powerful that everyone would say his name with fear and deep respect. Draco laughed and hurled the wine glass he was holding across the room, glaring at the streaks of red running down the pristine white walls as the fragile object shattered into a thousand pieces. Now, it was all a reality that no-one could deny.

Rolling up his sleeve for the tenth time, Draco stared at the silver tattoo of the serpent. Ruby red eyes stared back at him viciously, as if it was saying that only the Chosen One had the privilege to wear it on the arm. Its glittering body coiled along the length of his upper arm proudly and it had never failed to give him a sense of dominance and pride.

It was Salazar Slytherin's emblem, the symbol of one of Great Britain's most powerful wizards.

Draco smirked and rolled down his sleeve again. He felt different, after Voldemort performed the 'rebirth' ceremony on him. He had experienced the sudden surge of raw force through his fingertips when he touched the Orb of Nox Noctis, levitating him to unknown heights of magical power. Despite his earlier efforts to thwart Blaise Zabini from a lengthy conversation, Draco was no fool. All the time he spent reading and browsing through books in the Dark Arts had not gone to waste.

He knew that the Orb of Nox Noctis would see all, hear all, and sense all evil.

The sudden rush of events had left him breathless. One moment he was walking aimlessly among the guests, the next he was declared the Heir of Slytherin by Voldemort. The Dark Lord's explanation on his position as Heir was logical and Draco couldn't find any weaknesses which would prove Dumbledore correct.

Still, a stab of doubt kept on prodding Draco. Why didn't his father mention anything about the Malfoy family being descendants of Salazar Slytherin? If Slytherin blood could only be passed down through male descendents, why was the family name Malfoy used instead of Slytherin? What about the supposed Dark Arts abilities such as being able to speak in Parseltongue?

Great. He got so bored that he was playing Twenty Questions on his own.

Irritated with the monotony, Draco stood up and walked to the window. Pulling the lacy red drapes across, he pushed the windows wide open before proceeding to unbutton his shirt. Letting the night breeze caress his bare skin, Draco felt the familiar shiver tingle straight down to his legs. It reminded him of the wind whipping his face during a neck-to-neck race for the Snitch. Draco smirked, *I'm going to teach Potter a good lesson on Quidditch this year.*

Gazing at the starless sky, Draco began thinking about his future. One year ago at this time, he was wishing that he could join the ranks of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort had promised each of his followers with immortality, tremendous power and immeasurable wealth; and that was more than enough to recruit old wizarding families like the Malfoys to ally with him. Draco had imagined himself in those sweeping dark robes and brandishing a Dark Mark on his left forearm.

After that, the wizarding world would be clean of Mudbloods and gits like Potter.

But it was different now. The Dark Lord had revealed his true identity and he had a mission now. True, Heir of Slytherin might mean nothing more than to scare off cowards like Neville Longbottom, but Lord Voldemort had made it sound as if he had been made to be the next Dark Lord after him.

And this made Draco Malfoy feel important.

All his life, he had tried to prove himself to his father. It was never easy, living in the Malfoy household. Ever since he started having memories of his childhood, it always revolved around holding a wand and memorizing spells. Since a tender age, he had seen all kinds of illegal spells performed, including the Cruciatus Curse and the Imperius Curse. Draco had this sneaking feeling that he might be able to do one since he knew all of the basic incantations required to perform such hexes and curses.

He was no stranger to the Dark Arts.

Who taught him everything? His father. Lucius Malfoy was his role model. Someone who he looked up to, not only in a way a child would idolize his father, but also to the point that he believed his father was the very embodiment of success in the wizarding world. The Malfoy clan was not only influential in the Ministry of Magic, it also commanded deep respect among the Dark Wizards.

And Draco strove to show his father that he could be like him, a natural leader with great power over others with intelligence to boot.

Draco gritted his teeth. He had worked hard trying to show his father that he was worthy of being considered to join the ranks of Death Eaters, but both Potter and Granger had spoilt it all. Stupid Potter in Quidditch, and Mudblood Granger in academics. Perhaps the only subject he truly excelled in was Potions, and that some Gryffindors had claimed that Snape favored him to Granger. Lie! Treacherous rumor! Draco never liked being second to anyone, much less being accused of getting unearned marks from his House teacher.

*Potter with his supposed bravery. That old fool Dumbledore even made us toast him at the Feast in Fourth Year,* Draco thought irritably and folded his arms across his bare chest. *I would have joined the Triwizard Tournament if father agreed to put my name in the Goblet of Fire.*

*Well, not that I didn't have my share of fun torturing Potter then,* Draco snickered. Rita Skeeter's article on Harry Potter bawling his eyes out was a gem and Draco never failed to mock his archenemy at every opportunity. Pansy Parkinson helped along the way too; she gave Rita another nasty article on that Mudblood Granger toying with Potter's feelings.

But Draco couldn't help feeling that he was being used by his father all the time. From a young age, he had been trained to follow his father with an imaginary leash around his neck. *Like stupid Muggle-owned dogs,* Draco thought irritably. He was starting to get tired of following orders from a person who he called father. It was always the 'Draco, spy on him' or 'Draco, gather more important information on this wizard' type of task he was assigned to.

Draco knew that his father was actively involved in the Dark Arts and even served Lord Voldemort long before the Dark Lord swept to power in the wizarding world; but his father was careful not to let him take part in any Death Eater gathering nor allow him more information on the activities notorious among Dark Wizards. Inner Circle or not, Lucius Malfoy was a careful person, and he trusted no other wizard, including his own son. No doubt his father trained him well in this field, but Lucius never once mentioned that he was fit to serve the Dark Lord. It was too abrupt this time, by letting Lord Voldemort reveal his true birth heritage and to let him handle such an important task.

All the while, he couldn't help feeling that there was a catch behind this Heir of Slytherin pomp. What would it be? Perhaps the Dark Lord wanted something from him in return. His life? What a morbid thought, but the Dark Lord was apt in the Dark Arts. And the Dark Arts used human sacrifice.

Well, not that he disliked the spectacle it created barely hours ago.

Very soon, Draco's muse turned back to focus on his main task this time: to find the Ring. A mental picture of the Ring flashed before his eyes. The Dark Lord said that the Ring could fulfill any desire and only the Heir of Slytherin could remove the Ring from its hidden place. To hide a Dark Arts artifact that small, it was tremendously easy, but the task of finding it would require horrendous searching and Draco didn't want to look into every single sewage hole for that purpose.

Draco began racking his mind for more ideas. The Dark Lord had mentioned that it was concealed in the Heart of Hogwarts, but where was it? Even after living at Hogwarts for years, he would still discover secret passageways and hidden chambers along deserted corridors occasionally. It wasn't as if he hadn't asked for more explanation. Draco decided that perhaps the Dark Lord didn't know the exact location either.

A soft knock interrupted the silent reverie. The heavy wooden doors creaked as they were pushed open. Draco turned around, only to see a tiny house-elf.

"Master Lucius wants to meet... meet Young Master in the study," the house-elf squeaked, its large green eyes widening in fear. Draco looked at it resentfully and sent it away with a wave. The house-elf scurried away in apparent joy that Draco didn't proceed to give it a tongue-lashing.

Walking away from the window, Draco heaved a heavy sigh. *What does father want with me in the middle of the night?* wondered Draco and sat down on his bed heavily. His mind wandered back to the Ring inevitably. Throwing on his dressing robe in frustration, Draco stalked towards the door and slammed it behind him as he exited the room.

The task wasn't going to be easy, an inner voice told him. The school term would be starting in two weeks' time. Until then, he would have plenty of time to construct a list of possible locations for the Ring whilst brushing up his knowledge of charms, spells and hexes.

Nothing was free in this world, not even lunch.

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It was drizzling softly in the darkness, and raindrops were running down his face in rivulets. Harry blinked open his eyes hazily. The partially hidden moon was high up in the sky and the eerie hooting of owls filled the air. The pain had subsided to a dull pounding in his head and he could hear footsteps trudging hastily down the mud-filled path.

"Sirius?" Harry groaned weakly. He couldn't see the person's face clearly since he was being carried on back.

"Harry, hang on. The main entrance to Hogwarts is just ahead," an urgent voice answered him. Harry nodded limply and tightened his hold around Sirius' neck. Just ahead, the lit lamps in the ancient castle shone brightly. They were already on the grounds of Hogwarts.

Footsteps echoed beneath him as Sirius climbed the flight of stairs leading to the huge doors. Picking up a brass knocker, Sirius started banging on the door, sending a thunderous noise. Harry heard scuffling of feet from the other side of the doors. Before long, a stream of golden light hit him as Sirius hurried into the main entrance.

"Harry Potter?" a croaking voice asked, accompanied by the soft purring of a cat. *Must be Filch, the Caretaker with his cat, Mrs. Norris,* thought Harry.

"Call Dumbledore quick! I'm taking Harry up to the hospital wing now!" Sirius' voice rang in his ears and the man broke into a short run.

"Sirius, please put me down. I'm fine now..." started Harry but Sirius didn't seem to hear him. Harry protested feebly again. Instead of slowing down, the footsteps were getting faster.

Finally, Sirius came to a halt and threw open a set of doors. Blinding white light washed over him and Sirius stepped forward to put him onto a bed. Harry sat up immediately and looked around. He was in the hospital wing at the head of a long row of beds which stretched down the large room. Sirius was panting heavily, drenched with rainwater from head to toe.

The doors swung open again, and this time, Harry looked upon the face of a tall and thin elderly wizard. With the familiar half-moon glasses and long flowing white beard, it was Dumbledore.

"Dumbledore! Harry's scar is hurting again!" gushed Sirius anxiously and clutched Dumbledore's robes. Harry could feel a blush coloring his cheeks as Sirius began telling Dumbledore about Harry feeling a terrible pain from his scar; albeit the fact that the dramatized version involving a dying Harry seemed to evoke a hearty chuckle out of the old wizard. When Sirius finished, Dumbledore turned to fix a concerned gaze on Harry.

"Harry, is your scar still hurting now?" asked Dumbledore, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. Whether it was really magic or not, Harry felt a steady flow of assurance and comfort seep through his shoulder, heading straight into his heart.

"No, my scar doesn't really hurt now," answered Harry quietly as he felt his cheeks coloring. Not to say that he wasn't grateful for Sirius' undivided concern for him, but rushing him from Privet Drive to Hogwarts in the rain was too far-fetched. Speaking of Sirius, Harry couldn’t help feeling a tad frustrated at him. He could be so impulsive at times.

"But it did hurt just now, true? Harry, did you see anything through the pain?" Sirius nudged Harry quickly.

"No, I only felt the pain. When Sirius mentioned the Orb of Nox Noctis being stolen, my scar started hurting," said Harry haltingly. He didn't feel at all comfortable pouring out details of Voldemort trying to blow him into pieces during some strange dream.

Dumbledore and Sirius only stared back at Harry, bewilderment written all over their faces. "Harry..." Sirius started, his brows furrowed with worry and concern. Suddenly, Harry felt obliged to tell them about his recent dream.

"Professor Dumbledore, actually, there is something which I haven't told Sirius entirely. It is about a dream I had recently," Harry said haltingly, as he looked at Sirius out of the corner of his eye. He expected to see shock there, but Sirius' expression was one of a fatherly concern for him. Being around Sirius and Dumbledore made him feel protected and safe.

"Uh, I had this really strange dream moments before Sirius came to Privet Drive. I was in this room and I saw a lot of guests milling around a huge crystal ball. Then, I saw Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy," Harry paused to look at Dumbledore and Sirius. He knew better than to hide anything this time.

"You saw Voldemort?" asked Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the twinkle in his eyes was gone.

"Yes, and he came in to speak to the people on the stage. After that..." Harry trailed off.

"What happened next?" pressed Sirius.

"Voldemort called Draco Malfoy up to the stage and he performed a spell on him. Just then, a serpent came out of the crystal ball and imprinted itself on Malfoy's right arm. After that, Voldemort declared that Malfoy is the true Heir of Slytherin," Harry spoke in a rush, his eyes darting left and right between Dumbledore and Sirius.

"Draco Malfoy as the Heir of Slytherin?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Professor Dumbledore, I think Voldemort can sense my presence. After announcing Draco Malfoy as the Heir of Slytherin, he said that this would mark my death and threw a curse at me. Then, I woke up and heard Uncle Vernon calling me," Harry answered, noting the eeriness of the entire dream. Unwittingly, a shiver forced its way down his spine.

"Well, it's not very likely that Voldemort can see your dream self, Harry," Dumbledore started slowly and paused for a while. "I think, you are performing a very rare spell on your own body subconsciously instead."

"Spell?" echoed Harry and Sirius together.

"Yes, a spell and it is called Astral Projection, where your soul separates from your body and travels to other faraway places," answered Dumbledore and smiled at Harry. "I hadn't thought of this possibility until I came across this forgotten spell in an old book I happened to be flipping through."

"So you mean that I actually saw Voldemort?" asked Harry tentatively, not believing his own ears.

"It is still difficult to determine whether you were dreaming or projecting your soul because one can't really know for sure, but if the Dark Lord saw you, he must have seen a soul-like projection," answered Dumbledore slowly.

"But I hadn't even heard of Astral Projection until..."

"It is possible, Harry, to experience soul separation without knowing any incantations or having a wand by your side. All you really need is to have a clear mind. Many ancient wizards also took Deadly Nightshade flowers to simulate a dream-like state in their minds; that is, before too many of them died from Nightshade poisoning," Dumbledore explained and stroked his long gray beard. "Some ancient wizards do not use wands at all. In magic, the power of the mind is untapped as of yet."

"How would I know Voldemort's whereabouts?"

"Magic itself is a mystery, my boy. No wizard understands it fully."

"Then what about my scar? And that Draco Malfoy is the reborn Heir of Slytherin?"

"I don't know for sure, but there is a crucial link between you and Voldemort, and that the Malfoys are a family of Dark Wizards. Don't worry, Harry. I know what to do," sighed Dumbledore. "For now, go back to the Dursleys and wait for the school term to start."

"Professor, what about my visit to the Burrow? I promised Ron."

"For the time being, it is best for you to stay with the Dursleys instead of the Burrow," Upon seeing the disappointment on Harry face, Dumbledore smiled and patted Harry's shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry, I sense that Voldemort's days are numbered."

Harry wanted to protest, but upon hearing Dumbledore's stern tone, he could only nod in response. Clear emerald eyes gazed into Dumbledore's twinkling blue ones, and Harry suddenly noticed that the headmaster had aged greatly since Voldemort had made a reappearance in the wizarding world. *When will this terror end?* Harry found himself asking silently in his heart as a fresh wave of apprehension flooded his mind.

As if sensing Harry's inner turmoil, Sirius patted his shoulder and squeezed his hand gently. Harry found himself clutching his godfather's hand tightly in response, for the simple gesture seemed to have calmed down his troubled self greatly.

There wasn't much of a choice, was there?

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The study was lined with towering shelves lined with of heavy volumes. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows everywhere. A spark of both awe and fear never fail to ignite within Draco's chest every time he entered this room and he glided smoothly across the marble floor. His father, Lucius Malfoy, was leaning back in his big leather armchair.

*Father looks pleased,* Draco noted. As if hearing Draco's thoughts, Lucius Malfoy nodded at him and gestured him to sit.

"Draco, how does it feel to be the Heir of Slytherin?" asked Lucius Malfoy. Draco knew that he didn't need to answer that question. It was evident from his father's voice that it was the greatest honor he had ever received in his life in true Malfoy tradition.

Draco merely shrugged and crossed his legs in a lackadaisical attitude. "Doesn't make much of a difference. Being the Heir of Slytherin doesn't make me sprout an extra head or arm," he replied nonchalantly. *And it doesn't make me the Emperor of both Heaven and Hell like you do in the Manor,* Draco imagined himself saying, and he smirked. Lucius Malfoy couldn't do anything to him now, Draco was sure, so gone were the days of cowering in fright behind closets and under beds.

It was great, feeling powerful over powerful beings like Lucius Malfoy.

Questions were forming non-stop in his head. Draco was no idiot, and being accepted into the Dark Lord's inner circle suddenly wasn't very, uh... rushed? Doubt had been growing in his heart since he returned from the rebirth ceremony earlier on. They were not falling in place, those snippets of explanation he came up with whilst brooding in his room. Draco had the impression that the entire thing was a jigsaw puzzle with a few missing pieces - no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't be able to get the complete picture.

"Oh? You are not happy being a true Slytherin descendent?" Lucius answered evenly, a hint of cold seeping into his voice. For a fleeting moment, Draco thought he saw confusion in his father's eyes and he felt a tiny surge of triumph in his heart. *I'm not a little boy anymore, father. I'm not the boy who you can order around without any questions. In case you don't realize it, I have gray matter in my head,* Draco whispered mentally.

"I never knew that all Malfoys are descendants of Salazar Slytherin," retorted Draco coolly. That was the thousand-Galleon question that was pounding in his head.

"We are."

"How did the family name change to Malfoy then?"

"Because we didn't want to attract unnecessary attention," answered Lucius Malfoy simply.

"Attention? I love to bask in attention," said Draco breezily, his lips curving in a smirk. "I'm a sun-loving lizard who adores handing out signed autographs," he added lazily.

"Salazar Slytherin was a powerful evil wizard of his time. Naturally, after his death, those White Wizards wouldn't want another generation of Slytherins to rule the wizarding world and many of his descendants were hunted down and killed. So, we changed our family name," Lucius continued, ignoring Draco's comment. For the first time in many days, Draco noticed that his father had looked younger. Was it because Draco was the Heir of Slytherin now or was it due to Lord Voldemort's newfound trust in the Malfoy clan?

If there was a thing that Lucius Malfoy desired most, it was power.

"Is that all?"

"Of course not. I want you to go to Diagon Alley two weeks from now. Harry Potter and his pack of loyal dogs will be there too. Find a girl named Ginny Weasley and bring her back to Malfoy Manor. The Dark Lord has something planned for her," Lucius instructed carefully, his steel-gray eyes mirroring Draco's. "Do you understand?"

"Why can't the Death Eaters go instead? You know I hate touching a Weasley. They taint me," Draco's lips twisted into a disgusted sneer at the mere mention of those Muggle-lovers he considered not fit to be wizards. On the other hand, Draco had no idea who Ginny Weasley was, although he was too familiar with Ron Weasley, that sodding git who trailed Potter like an obedient dog. At the back of his mind, a blurry mental image of Ron's sister formed and Draco distinctly remembered that she had red hair.

But then, Draco noticed that all Weasleys have flaming red hair sufficient to set anyone's head on fire. Other than that, Ginny Weasley did not ring a bell in his head.

"Because Diagon Alley is packed with Aurors and the Ministry Officers. They will be able to detect any Dark Arts practitioner in a whiff. You are... different. You don't have the Dark Mark yet," Lucius replied curtly and leaned back further into his armchair. "You will just have to dirty your hands."

"I don't have a choice, do I?" Draco drawled and snorted, rising to up stand up.

"No, you don't. And the Dark Lord wants her alive."

"Goodnight, father."

Spinning around on his heel, Draco stalked towards to the entrance of the study. This world was turning topsy-turvy, Draco decided. One moment he was celebrating his birthday, another he was crowned the Heir of Slytherin. The next, he was instructed to kidnap some Weasley back into Malfoy Manor. Shaking his head, Draco slammed the heavy doors behind him.

Unbeknownst to Draco, a pair of hard red eyes followed his retreating form keenly.

"You don't know what is in store for you, Heir."

________________________________________________________________________________

"Hermi-oh-ninny, don't go so soon... You still have two veeks of holidays," the slim Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum pleaded as he held on to her hand. Hermione sighed and looked into Viktor's black eyes. Ginny Weasley stood beside her, but had started to walk away, wanting to give them some privacy.

"I must go back to England now. I still have unfinished assignments waiting for me and also, I need to prepare for the coming term," Hermione said, and turned to pick up her luggage. "The flying train is here. Ginny and I need to board it before it leaves."

"Fine then... Come to Bulgaria next summer, vill you? My parents like you a lot, Hermi-oh-ninny," the young man whispered and clutched Hermione's hand tightly until the girl was starting to wince in pain.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do... Please thank Mr. and Mrs. Krum for the wonderful stay on my behalf and thanks, Viktor, for inviting me," Hermione said firmly and stood tiptoes to give Viktor a peck on the cheek. Disengaging her fingers from Viktor's hand, she pulled away from him. "I really need to go now. Ginny's waiting."

"Goodbye, Hermi-oh-ninny," said Viktor mournfully and pressed a small box into Hermione's hand. Hermione gave him a short wave and ran after Ginny. Grabbing Ginny's hand, she sprinted towards the waiting train and hopped into an empty carriage. Waving happily at Viktor through one of the windows, she plopped down on the comfortable couch as Ginny took her seat opposite her. A shrill whistle then pierced through the noisy din and the train started to pull away slowly from the platform. Gradually, the train accelerated and with a final burst of black smoke, it flew up towards the blue skies as it left the train tracks.

The last time Ginny glanced at Viktor Krum, he was still waving at Hermione although he looked more sullen and broody than usual. As expected, Hermione was grinning at him until he disappeared from view. Ginny sighed internally. Ron wasn't very happy when Hermione owled him to say that she would be going to Bulgaria to visit Viktor and she had invited Ginny along instead of him.

But then again, Ron Weasley hadn't been adept at concealing his personal feelings. Ginny could see very well that he had something for Hermione, and being Hermione, she just didn't seem to pick up those hints Ron dropped around her. Well, 'didn't want to' might be more appropriate to describe Hermione rather than 'didn't notice'.

Ron's infatuation with Hermione was very obvious, from the way Ginny saw Ron react to Hermione's decision to visit Viktor in Bulgaria. Sometimes, Ginny admired Hermione for being able to avoid and play dumb at Ron's attempts to confess his feelings for her. Again, Hermione was not a transparent person. She could be opaque, and she could also be extremely tuned-in to her surroundings at Hogwarts, and because of that, she knew a lot more about the student body than Harry or Ginny.

And as a last resort, he managed to coerce her into following Hermione, although she would prefer staying at the Burrow. Seeing Viktor Krum going mushy over Hermione made de-gnoming the garden look fun and interesting in contrast. *Ron, you owe me one,* thought Ginny aimlessly as Hermione took out a few Muggle mystery novels to pore over.

As the mountainous terrain dotted with sparse pockets of greenery rushed below them, Hermione's occasional shouts of 'I knew it! I knew it!' grew blurrier as time passed. Keeping herself awake by nodding occasionally to the other girl's exclamations, Ginny was immersed in her own thoughts. Staring glassily at the flying landscape, Ginny couldn't help feeling sorry for herself.

Hermione was a lucky girl, Ginny mused. She didn't only have Viktor Krum, the World Famous Quidditch Seeker melting into a puddle before her, she had Ron Weasley throwing temper tantrums because of her too. Meanwhile, she, Ginny Weasley, was a nobody among boys.

*And to think that she didn't even 'try' to make Viktor and Ron notice her,* Ginny thought forlornly. *The worst thing is, Viktor noticed her because she is a bookworm.* She turned slightly to look at Hermione. Ginny noticed that Hermione had a healthy glow to her cheeks now, instead of the pale complexion she used to have. Well, Hermione wasn't exactly the type of girl to play sports and Quidditch was out of bounds for her.

*The wonders that love can do to a person,* Ginny sighed softly. She didn't like Quidditch either, but took up the position as a Chaser for Gryffindor because of him.

Harry Potter.

A blush colored Ginny's cheeks as a mental image of Harry projected itself into her mind. Emerald green eyes looked back at her as she recalled Harry's words the last year. *Ginny, you may be a good Chaser.*

Ginny knew it was stupid to take up Quidditch just because Harry told her that she might be good in it. Ever since then, she had been playing for the Gryffindors and got hit by a few Bludgers already, resulting in a few broken bones and numerous painful bruises. Again, Ginny felt that being close to Harry made up for all those Quidditch injuries.

*Love is like a rose,* thought Ginny wistfully. *It is so beautiful and fragile, yet the thorns may prick you if you are not careful enough.*

True, it had been six years already and Ginny still couldn't overcome her crush on Harry. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world; who every witch or wizard would acknowledge. Since she had been a child, she had heard so much about him, the legendary boy who had defeated You-Know-Who. Ginny simply couldn't believe it when she got to meet him in person and he was so humble, so kind, so caring, so brave, so loyal.... She could go on forever listing Harry's good points and never stop.

But then again, Ginny was depressed whenever she thought of Harry. He never seemed to notice her. He was always together with Ron and Hermione as the Fabulous Trio, and Ginny felt out of place while she was with them. It was as if she was deliberately left out of everything they did, with Ron claiming that it was too dangerous for her to join in. Worse still, trying to get over Harry by being friendlier with other boys in Gryffindor was near impossible. Ron was overprotective of her. Fred and George were overprotective of her. Ginny shuddered in fear and embarrassment at the memory of her brothers taking turns to warn Justin Finch-Fletchley after he asked her out on a Hogsmeade trip.

Three menacing redheads with their wands out were enough to scare off any sane boy. At times, Ginny couldn't help thinking that she might end up alone one day. All the while, she had always been the baby of the family; but then again, being the youngest of the Weasleys had its pros and cons, and the cons definitely included being shielded excessively by her brothers.

Finding someone to love was hard; but finding someone who would love you back was even harder.

*Perhaps Harry thinks of me as his younger sister,* Ginny thought bitterly as she pulled her cardigan around her tightly. *Why Harry? Why don't you at least look at me in the eye for once?*

No, it was not possible to fall in love with someone else after seeing the perfect embodiment of a dream in Harry.

The train chugged on as night began to creep over the horizon.

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Soft kisses rained on her face and neck as fingers snaked around her waist, drawing tender circles along her bare skin. She could feel her body responding passionately to those electrifying touches. Every contact was a pleasant shock and she started kissing him back fierily, moaning at the intense bursts of flames within her heart at each touch.

Her mind was in a daze, and she felt like she was floating weightlessly and soaring high up in the skies. Everything felt like bliss and joy. Tilting her head, she kissed the mysterious man back furiously, as if it was the only correct thing to do in the whole wide world.

*Do it... He is the right one... Just do it...* a soft voice whispered inside her head. She nodded helplessly at the command and drew closer to the delicious warmth his body was radiating. Heat seemed to seep from his skin into her body, and she imagined that she might die of coldness if she withdrew herself from his tight embrace, she imagined.

She sighed blissfully as a slender finger traced her jaw fleetingly. She couldn't see him in the dark, but she knew he was the one who loved her most, and he was the one she loved most. There was simply no explanation for it.

"Harry?" she began softly and the male voice groaned softly, as if trying to push her away.

"No... Don't touch me," the voice suddenly growled and she felt a pair of hands shoving her aside. More anguished groans and moans followed. Suddenly, she had an impulsive urge to turn the tables. Using all of her strength, she took hold of his shoulders and pulled him down next to her. Straddling him, she leaned down to kiss him passionately on the lips.

Jolts of unspeakable desire washed over her at the feel of his soft lips against hers. Before she even had time to set her thoughts straight, a pair of arms crushed her against his chest and returned her kiss with an equal amount of furious intensity, his fingers running through her tangled mass of silky hair.

*You love him... Tell him you love him...* the voice echoed again. *Tell him that and he will love you back as much as you offer yours...*

"I... I... I love yo..." Ginny started but was cut off by a sudden loud bang.

The door was thrown open and blinding white light streamed into the door. Two dark figures were silhouetted in the bright light and one of them started to walk towards her. She had to raise a hand to shield her eyes from the abrupt explosion of light, but the pounding in her head grew so loud that her eyes couldn't focus well any longer. Slumping back onto the bed, she hid beneath the warm body that was covering her. Falling locks of sliver-blond hair caught her eye, but a thick haze overtook her conscious. Her sight was getting blurrier as heat started to rise within her body and mind...

After that, she didn't remember anything else.

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Coming up next chapter:

Harry, Hermione and Ron meet up in Diagon Alley. Ginny goes shopping for her Potions refills alone and meets someone unexpected. What do Lord Voldemort and the Malfoys intend to do to Ginny Weasley? The school term starts finally after some adventures in Diagon Alley.

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3. untitled

4. untitled

Wong Siew Lee Normal Wong Siew Lee 2 153 2003-06-07T07:37:00Z 2003-06-07T07:37:00Z 18 7422 42308 352 84 51957 9.3821

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Title: Nox Noctis (4/?)

Author: Rhea Summers

E-mail: rheasummers@yahoo.com

Rating: R

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mystery

Spoilers alert: All four books

Summary: Power, Ambition and Dreams – the very essence of a riveting drama involving the lives of five students in Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy plays a game full of lies and betrayal as he baits his pawn, Ginny Weasley, closer into his embrace. The story unfolds further with Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley as deceptions threaten to shake the very foundation of their friendship. This is the story of five students with five entwined destines. (D/G, H/Hr, minor J/L)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. However, this story is also based very loosely on JRR Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings' and it belongs to all parties concerned. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: This chapter contains many important clues to future plot devices and everything is here for a reason. Major ships in this story are coming up too. Rabid D/G fans, you have your go here. Satisfied? Last but not the least, many thanks to Sarah Pearson who managed to polish the rough edges of the plot for this upcoming story arc. ::Rhea schnoogles Sarah to bits::

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"Harry, that's Sirius," Hermione's watchful eyes caught the familiar form of Harry's godfather seated among the teachers. "He looks a lot healthier than the last time I saw him. What is he doing here anyway?"

"I know," Harry answered as they took their seat among the 7th years at the Gryffindor table. "He’s our new Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"What about Hagrid? Dumbledore sacked him after all?" Ron asked, his brows furrowing into a deep frown. "Hagrid didn't bring any dragons or anything relatively dangerous into the school last year."

"Hagrid is on a year-long leave. He’s in Beauxbatons now with Madam Maxime," Harry answered with a small shrug. "He deserves a break from those Slytherins."

"But Harry, why haven't we heard anything like that from you?" Hermione screeched and folded her arms in frustration. "I would liked to say goodbye to Hagrid at the very least."

"Well, Hedwig is always sending letters to Hogwarts and I don't have an extra owl... Besides, I really meant to tell you yesterday, but it just slipped my mind when Malfoy turned up for his regular troublemaking," Harry apologized profusely, mentally smacking himself for being so forgetful over something as important as this.

"It's fine, Harry. We can always send an owl to Hagrid sometime tomorrow," Hermione sighed and rested her elbows on the table.

"Why can't the Sorting Hat hurry up? I'm terribly hungry!" Ron grumbled beside Harry and shot a disgruntled look at his shiny silver platter. "One more song and I’ll be dancing stark naked."

"Ron, the Sorting ceremony is important for First Years," Hermione replied amidst the thunderous clapping and cheering at the Gryffindor table as a young 11-year old walked over to join them shyly. "We only get to watch it once a year."

Ron rolled his eyes and continued to watch the Sorting ceremony. Harry merely smiled at his best friend's indignant comments about the long awaited Feast, and also, he wasn't hungry himself. Harry's mind was not on the talking Hat, but rather, his gaze was focused on Professor Dumbledore who was sitting at the topmost place in the Hall. Many thoughts were going through his mind at the moment, and Harry had never felt this worried before. Something was not right, his instincts told him.

Sneaking a glance at the Slytherin table, Harry almost sighed in relief when he saw Draco Malfoy whispering to his two block-headed goons, later only to have them laughing hysterically. *Must be something nasty, knowing Malfoy,* Harry thought sourly, but he was secretly rejoicing that at least his nemesis wasn't looking back at the Gryffindor table maliciously. The relief Harry felt instantly after knowing that Malfoy was still in Hogwarts was unwarranted for. Why would he feel happy around a Malfoy? More like annoyance, perhaps.

Harry didn't know and didn't want to know either. *Either you're already insane from stupid nightmares with Voldemort in them, or you're very close to St. Mungo's Ward for the Mentally Unstable,* a voice whispered sternly in his head and deep inside, Harry feared that he was agreeing to that statement. Everything had been so strange over the past few weeks, Harry felt. This was something else he couldn't bear to share with anyone. No, not even Sirius, his trusted Godfather, or his best friends.

Recently, the ghosts of his past had been visiting him. It was so livid, his mother's screams, they rang in his head until they fade away gradually with the last threads of his mother's life. At one time, Harry thought they would never fade, for it was the only precious memory he had of his parents, Lily and James Potter. If he were to look into the Mirror of Erised once again, he would never doubt that his parents were going to be there in the reflection, standing by his sides.

There was only one thing Harry had ever truly wanted in his life, and it was to have a family to call his own. When it was Christmas, he would have parents to welcome him back from school and a place to go home to. Privet Drive was never his home. Never.

He wanted happy memories of his childhood too, simply because he had none. The worst thing in life was to look back in the past and find nothing worthy of smiling at. Then, there were little snippets of his life before Hogwarts flashing before him every time he closed his eyes. His first birthday he could remember resulted in him spending the entire day locked in a closet as the Dursleys threw Dudley a grand party complete with 30 presents of varying sizes. After that, his first day in a Muggle school was a lost cause. Aunt Petunia made it clear to his class teacher that he was autistic. True to a word, he was alienated by every one of his classmates and Dudley took pride in playing a game named 'Rub-a-Dub Harry in Mud'.

If the name was horrid, never mind the actual game.

Dudley could be incredibly creative and innovative when it came to bullying. It was a wonder really, since Dudley's report cards were always splotched with red ink.

Harry snorted in laughter when he remembered Hagrid telling him that he was famous. And also, he was rich. He had a vault full of gold in Gringotts. So what if he was rich? He was just another poor little rich kid.

At the thought of that, Harry shot Draco Malfoy another wayward glance. By the way he understood his nemesis, Draco Malfoy wasn't so much different from him after all. Well, except that the Slytherin still had parents, not to mention an extremely critical father. Sometimes, Harry wondered how he would grow up to be, if his parents had raised him instead of the Dursleys. Would he still be the Harry Potter sitting here today? Or rather, would he be Sorted into Slytherin, and would his best friend be Draco Malfoy instead of Ron Weasley?

These reflections left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Leaving the Malfoy issue aside, Harry turned his attention to the scene unfolding before him. All the First Years had taken their turns putting on the Sorting Hat and Professor McGonagall was already back in her seat. Professor Dumbledore stood up and cleared his throat loudly as McGonagall tapped her wineglass with a silver spoon. The entire student body was subdued and everyone sat silently in their respective seats, eager to let Dumbledore finish his annual opening speech and get on with the feast.

"I'm pleased to see that Hogwarts has once again opened for the school term. First of all, I welcome the First Years to the Hogwarts School of Magic and Wizardry." A loud round of applause came for the blushing juniors.

"Also, let us welcome Professor Black who will be teaching Care of Magical Creatures since Professor Hagrid has taken a long vacation to visit Beauxbatons." Sirius stood up briefly to smile and wave at the students; his shoulder length black hair was combed back neatly as a burst of giggles swept through a group of Ravenclaw girls next table. Harry, Hermione and Ron clapped harder than everyone else, pleased that Harry's godfather had finally returned to Hogwarts, as a legal wizard.

"The selection of new fifth year prefects will commence at the end of this week. This year, the teachers have decided that the Head Boy and Head Girl will only be announced two weeks after the new prefects are chosen, and prefects will get a chance to cast their vote for their preferred candidate. As for Quidditch Captains, I'm sure your respective teams made their choices last year." At the Gryffindor table, all of the Quidditch players began thumping Harry on his back with murmurs of 'Congratulations!'. Waiting for the clapping to die down, Dumbledore continued his speech, albeit in a graver tone.

"There is one thing I want to share and remind all of you of what the truth is, Voldemort is back. With him back in the Wizarding Community, I wish to let each young witch and wizard seated in this dining hall know that the threat is very real. It is not an illusion or a lie any longer,” Dumbledore paused for a slight moment, his bright blue eyes gazing at every face that looked back at him eagerly.

"Then, two years ago, a dear student departed from our numbers forever. We will never know when exactly Voldemort shall make a true comeback, but remember that together we stand united and Evil will never have a chance to devour any of our souls," Dumbledore spoke with the authority that Harry had always admired in the old Headmaster. "Until then, let the feast begin and may this school year be as good as the previous ones."

With a wave of Dumbledore's wand, a magnificent spread appeared before their eyes. The bronze jugs were filled to the brim with pumpkin juice, while delicious treacle puddings and meat pies were stacked in neat clusters along the four long House tables. Just as Harry was about to tuck in the food, he caught Sirius's eye and the handsome man gave him a wink. Harry smiled back gratefully and turned back to his own meal.

But then, Harry didn't quite see the venomous glare Severus Snape threw at Sirius Black at that very moment, nor did he notice Sirius' smirk when the two teachers exchanged eye contact.

Harry did not only miss the poisonous looks both of the feuding teachers shot at each other, he didn't notice Ginny getting up from her seat to leave the feast earlier too.

Worst still, Harry did not know Draco Malfoy had left the Slytherin table at the same time.

________________________________________________________________________________

Slipping out quietly through the grandly decorated doors, Ginny was sure that nobody would miss her in the Great Hall. It was so much more relaxed here, compared to mingling among hundreds of noisy students. She had never been a big fan of huge parties or high attendance gatherings.

Ginny moved silently along the long dark corridors of the castle, only jumping occasionally at the clank of polished armor propped up against the stone walls. The entire Hogwarts population was still in the Great Hall enjoying the first feast of the school year. Reaching a colored glass window that marked the corridor a dead-end, Ginny leaned against the wooden frame of the semi-oval opening. Her fingers touched fragile glass gently and pushed it forward, letting a pleasant cool breeze wash over her. Ginny drew a deep breath of the fresh night air and relaxed to the breathtaking scenery lying far beyond the window.

A full moon was high up in the sky, its serene silver light illuminating the Hogwarts grounds with a shimmering sheen. The Quidditch pitch was at the far end of the school and beyond it was the Forbidden Forest. Leaning out the window, Ginny closed her eyes, feeling the soft wind caress her face and tease tendrils of her red hair.

During her fourth and fifth year, she had found this deserted corridor by accident. Since there were rarely any students passing by, this passageway had turned into her private corner in the entire of Hogwarts. Even Filch the Caretaker and Mrs. Norris didn't bother to check here always, and Ginny had spent long nights here, all by herself. When she was unhappy, or when she couldn't tell anyone her problems, she would come here. Somehow, the tranquil setting always managed to calm her down.

Ginny was confused. Very confused.

And there was nobody she could talk to.

Self-consciously, a hand went up to feel the pendant she used to wear around her neck with a silver chain. Missing the familiar cool touch of the gold locket, she sighed despondently. She had forgotten that Draco Malfoy had taken it from her in the apothecary.

Everything had changed so much since she arrived in Hogwarts. She used to be that outspoken and brave girl under Authur and Molly Weasley's watchful eyes, but the Ginny Weasley now was the shy, awkward and quiet girl who hid in the library. She was the Ginny Weasley who had no real friends. She was also the Ginny Weasley who tried so hard to fit in with the rest of the Gryffindor girls.

In the end, she was just Ron's baby sister.

Her love life had been non-existent. It had been six long years since she had set her eyes on the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. Harry was not the handsome type, nor was he the charming kind who would sweep any girl off her feet. In fact, Harry could be a little boring. Before she first saw Harry in King's Cross Station, she imagined him to be tall, strong and heroic looking. Then, she was infatuated with him after hearing all those wonderful things he did as a baby, and then as a First Year in Hogwarts.

Ginny felt that she was in love with him, and that feeling was so strong. The worst thing was, Harry wouldn't even look twice at her.

What was love then?

A Muggle poet once defined love as an elixir that could make a person live, or die from the lack of it.

Then came Draco Malfoy. Three days ago, his name would never cross her mind, but now, it was different. Why didn't recollections of her dreams come when Harry rescued her from Malfoy? Or, when she was in the train sitting opposite of Harry? When he smiled at her, Ginny felt her heart leap, but it was not the same sensation she felt when Malfoy held her in that brief encounter in the Potions shop. With Harry, it was innocent and sweet. With Draco, it was exhilarating and dangerous. It was... carnal, the desire burning in her, the moment his body pressed against hers.

Animalistic.

That was the only word to describe those sensations. Ginny felt her cheeks burn as those dreams replayed themselves over and over again in her conscious mind. Those soft lips had kissed her so passionately that it seemed so real, so true. The soft brush of his lips against her ear in the Potions shop was electrifying, so that she nearly lost consciousness at the very touch of him on her skin.

Ginny stopped herself. Dangerous? Carnal? Malfoy? Having erotic dreams starring herself and Malfoy? No, it must be Harry, Ginny assured herself, as she felt her cheeks tingle with a deep blush. She must be going insane. How could she 'even' be thinking of Draco Malfoy in the first place?

For all she knew, Draco Malfoy was the most selfish git to walk the earth since Lucius Malfoy, whom had constantly sneered and ridiculed her father since his schooldays. Ron's vivid description of Malfoy as a bouncing white ferret didn't help too. The incident in the apothecary yesterday was not pleasant either; she had bruised her elbow badly after Malfoy released her sleeve suddenly. To top it, he was always stirring up trouble for both Harry and Ron.

"I don't need a self-centered, arrogant and annoying git like Malfoy to make my life more miserable than it already is!" Ginny shouted angrily through the window, her hair tousled by the sudden gust of wind. Feeling the knot in her stomach easing a little, she exhaled slowly and closed her eyes.

"Who is a self-centered, arrogant and annoying git again?" a male voice drawled softly in her ear and a pair of strong arms encircled her waist. Ginny suddenly found herself leaning against a firm chest as his bodily heat seeped through the thick layers of robes which were separating them.

There was only one single person in the whole wide world that could make an insult sound like a compliment, and he was Draco Malfoy. There was no need to confirm his presence by opening her eyes. A slight hint of fresh lemon pervaded her senses again, driving away her rationale.

*Malfoy has to be the male version of a veela,* Ginny thought weakly as his hold grew tighter. "Malfoy, what do you want?" Ginny protested softly, and never quite asked him to release her, no matter how much her self-respect was kicking and screaming inside her head.

"Just wanted to spend some quality time together," Draco whispered coolly, his soft breath rustling stray strands of her hair. "We should get to understand each other better."

"I don't even know you," Ginny replied as her lower lip trembled in pure daze and she reached down to remove Draco's hands. Suddenly, Draco's hands were away from her waist and his body was no longer pressing against hers. She turned around quickly and found herself staring into steel-gray eyes. Under the moonlight, his high cheekbones were prominent and locks of his silver blonde hair fell in silky sheens over his forehead. Ginny held her breath. She had never seen Malfoy from such a close angle before this. *He looks like a marble statue lovingly sculptured by skillful hands, except that he is breathing and very much alive,* Ginny thought pensively, but the thought dissipated quickly as a mental image of Harry flitted across her mind.

"I'm Draco Malfoy, a 7th year Hogwarts prefect from Slytherin," Draco answered, a playful smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "You know me now..."

"I... I'm Virginia Weasley, a 6th year Gryffindor. Most people call me Ginny," Ginny began shakily, blushing helplessly under Draco's simple words. Of course she knew he was Draco Malfoy! What game was he trying to play now? With a trembling voice, Ginny forced herself to look at his face. "Dra... Draco, I... uh... I have go back to the Great Hall now... Ron... Ron will be looking for me."

"Oh? But that Weasley sees you up close every day. That is why I have to watch you from afar. I never have a chance to talk to you in person since your brother is always somewhere near," Draco whispered into her ear and stroked her cheek gently with a finger. "I have my prefects duty and Slytherin housemates to watch out too."

"But why did you humiliate my family in the Potions shop? You sneered at them, Malfoy. You said that I taint you and you need bicorn serum to sanitize your hands after holding me," Ginny hissed suddenly as the unpleasant memory flashed past her conscious. The redhead then stepped away from the taller boy until she hit the wall behind her. Ginny's heart barely registered a small leap of triumph when Draco sighed softly.

"Perhaps I didn't know what else to say to you," the Slytherin drawled nonchalantly and walked towards her, his hands reaching out to enfold her in his embrace again. "I just had a sudden impulse to approach you when I saw you." Ginny shuddered and felt herself melting in his hold. Draco Malfoy actually sounded... regretful, Ginny thought and felt his hands moving across her back in gentle circles.

"Dra... Draco, please let me go... Ron may see us here anytime," Ginny whispered, her voice betraying her poorly hidden anxiety at the Slytherin's sudden advances. "Har... Harry may be with him too!" At the end of the sentence, a tear rolled down her cheek as the youngest Weasley fought to keep the years of frustration and accumulated low self-esteem breaking through the barriers she erected around them. It was strange, to hear those words from Draco Malfoy, of all people, instead of Harry Potter.

"Just because Potter never looked twice at you doesn't that mean I don't," Draco answered evenly. "I'm not blind, Ginny." The redhead felt a shiver run her a spine at the way Draco mentioned her name. His natural aristocratic inflection present in his voice added an original twist to her name, and Ginny was starting to blush again when his gray eyes locked hers in an intense gaze. Slowly, Draco reached up to brush away the moist trail the single tear had left on her face.

It was a scene that Ginny had rehearsed a thousand times in her mind, except that it was always Harry who had said these words instead of Draco.

"Draco, why me?" Ginny started but a slender finger was placed across her lips. An internal conflict was building up within Ginny, and the tangle of indefinable emotions was getting so bad that she wasn't even sure she ought to slap him for touching her or kiss him passionately. *No, this has to be a dream! It can't be real... Can't be real... Ginny Weasley, get of hold of yourself!* the trembling girl screamed internally, but Draco's mesmerizing gaze had frozen her in place.

"You don't have to know why," Draco brushed off her question with a short laugh. "Do not worry, we'll get to know each better in time." Then, his arms were gone from her waist. The next moment, Draco's arms were above her head, draping an elegant object hanging from a chain around her neck. Ginny felt the familiar weight of the pendant on her chest and gasped. Draco reached behind her neck and locked the clasp of the chain.

Lifting Ginny's chin with a finger, Draco looked straight into her eyes, his gray ones alive with emotions. Bending down, the older boy inched closer to her until she could feel his breath caressing her face. Feeling the distance closing rapidly between her and Draco, the redhead then closed her eyes in anticipation for Draco's silky lips against hers. *Dear Merlin, I'm going to snog a Malfoy,* Ginny thought helplessly, intoxicated by the dizzying soft scent of his skin.

But it never came.

Suddenly, the comforting warmth of Draco's embrace was gone. Ginny opened her eyes in disappointment and saw Draco standing five feet away from her. "I'll be waiting for you in the Potions classroom next Sunday evening," Draco spoke softly and turned around to walk away.

"Draco..." Ginny called out, but he was already too far to hear her. A million questions swam in her head but she was unable to answer any of them.

*Why, Draco? Why a Weasley?*

*Why me?*

________________________________________________________________________________

Steady footsteps echoed down the hallway as a well-built figure strode along it. Stopping in front of a still painting portraying a vase of flowers, he kneeled down.

"One... Two... Three... Four... Five..." he counted and his fingers stopped at the fifth brick directly below the gilded frame of the painting. Carefully, he tapped the six bricks surrounding the single brick he identified. Then, a low rumbling sound was heard and the small section of the wall opened to reveal a small hole.

He reached inside and groped around before his fingers closed around a wooden box. Hoisting it out, he wiped away the thin film of dust on the lid. Producing a bronze key from his sleeves, he fitted it into the lock of the box and a soft 'click' sounded as he rotated the slender piece of metal. Opening the box, he looked wistfully at the small collection of letters and the thick book lying within them.

Placing the box down on the cold stone floor, he picked up the first letter in the pile and proceeded to unfold it. "Lumos," he whispered and held up his wand. A spark of light lit up the tip of his wand, throwing a dim glow down the narrow passageway. With trembling fingers, he lifted up the letter to the bright vicinity his wand was producing. Rows of neat handwriting lined the crisp parchment as his eyes ran over those words he had once read after that painful incident, an incident which changed his life forever.

Replacing the letter into the wooden box, he lifted up the leather bound book with such care and love that even the most meticulous wizard would have shied away in shame. Blowing softly at the cover, intricate golden letters appeared under the thin layer of fine dust. He smiled wistfully at the book. It was a gift from Professor Dumbledore himself, and he treasured it like his life.

Turning the cover over, his eyes glistened with unshed tears as he gazed at his memories playing before him. It seemed like so long ago when he had first spoken to her during the Easter ball, when he had first held her in his arms in a dance, and when they shared their first kiss under the ancient oak tree beside the Quidditch pitch. Each picture in the book told a unique story, and every one of them immortalized the precious memories of his years at Hogwarts.

"Don't you know how much I love you? It's too late for you to know now..." he whispered hoarsely and pressed the moving picture of the redhead to his lips. The girl in the page smiled back at him innocently. Ever so innocent that it hurt to think about her now. Blinking his eyes dry, he swept his hair back swiftly and gazed at the photo again, his mind far from the present.

He was once so close to death that he thought he might never have the chance to retrieve those precious memories contained in a simple wooden box. When he finally returned here, he couldn’t bring himself to take it out of its hiding place immediately.

But he had the box in his hands now.

"Miow..." a cat purred softly, making him snap back into reality. He had heard the purring, although it was still quite far away. Tearing his eyes away, he flipped the cover over to close the book. He knew any moment Filch might come stalking down the corridor.

He must not be seen here.

Placing the book back into the box, he clamped the wooden lid on and stood up with it under his arm. "Nox," he mouthed softly and the corridor was thrown into total darkness again.

He should get some rest now.

The past was always best left behind.

________________________________________________________________________________

Running fingers through his silver-blonde hair, Draco strode down the corridor leading to the Slytherin dungeons, his lips twisted in a disgusted sneer. He had left Ginny Weasley there, and he was plainly infuriated by those horrible words that had come out of his mouth moments earlier.

"Draco..." a female voice called out seductively and a pair of hands wrapped around his arm tightly. "Where did you go just now? You left before dinner was over."

"Go away, Pansy," the Slytherin snapped and tried to jerk his arm out of her firm grip. The heavy girl pouted angrily and her hold grew stronger instead. "Do I really need to shove my wand down your throat and shout 'Petrificus'?" Draco growled dangerously.

"But Draco, it's our first night back he..." Pansy didn't get to finish her sentence. Draco simply threw her an annoyed glare and shook off her hands violently. Without even glancing backwards at Pansy's pained gasp, the young Malfoy ran down the stairs leading to the Slytherin dungeons. Stopping in front of the portrait of the Wizened Wizard, Draco shouted the password (Lacera Subucula!) to the old man sitting in the painting. The aged wizard narrowed his eyes and puffed out a ring of smoke from his pipe before swinging forward to reveal an entrance behind it.

Climbing through the opening, Draco was thankful that the Slytherin common room was devoid of students. Snape had made sure everyone follow the 'no lights on' policy after nine o-clock and all of the Slytherins had gone to bed save Pansy who had patiently waited for him out there. Pansy was a major headache for him and she had been pestering him to explore their relationship in depth since last year. That was something Draco had blatantly refused to do, and it was not because he had some other girl in mind. The reason was simple enough, he couldn't bring himself to do anything further than to kiss the square-jawed girl and have her coming back for more.

Draco sighed internally and sat down onto an overstuffed green sofa. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace reminded him of 'her' as the golden-red tongues of the flame licked the ashen logs. What had he done tonight? He gritted his teeth resentfully at a particularly horrible moment earlier this evening. Yes, he did the impossible. He ran after a dirty Weasley in the middle of a school feast and said a lot of self-humiliating words to her. *How horrible, to have talked to a ragged Weasley in such a manner,* Draco thought, a corner of his mouth twitching in disgust. *I'd rather streak through Gryffindor Tower in my birthday suit than to do an encore performance.*

Worst of all, he had told her a humiliating lie about him watching her from afar and wanting to approach her. Draco gripped the stuffed armrest so strongly that the fabric threatened to tear. Breathing in deeply, he counted silently to ten and felt the tight knot in his stomach loosen slightly. If Draco Malfoy wasn't apt at controlling his emotions, who was?

Like it or not, he did achieve his goal of getting Virginia Weasley to meet him in the empty Potions classroom next Sunday evening, Draco reasoned. It was well worth the effort of catching that filthy Weasley by surprise. Very soon, he might be able to complete the task that the Dark Lord had assigned him.

With his fine eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Draco yelled 'Accio!' and waited for a moment. A leaf of parchment, a quill and a bottle of ink came sailing over and he caught them gracefully by picking them out of the air. Smoothing out the parchment, the young man dipped the quill tip into the bottle of ink. "Dear Father," Draco breathed out as he scribbled across the clean surface in his neat handwriting.

Sighing again, Draco pondered for a moment on how to begin the letter he was going to write. Should he regurgitate the details of Weasley's reactions when he held her by the window under the moonlight? Or should he write about how that dirty Weasley thought he was going to snog her senseless when she closed her eyes? *Fine, I'll just send Father a torrid Muggle romance novel with an outrageous shag scene,* Draco thought aimlessly. *Perhaps I can even wear my ripped shirt and paste a picture of myself on the front cover.*

Pushing that stupid notion aside, he dipped his quill into the inkpot again and started to write about his apparent success with Arthur Weasley's daughter this evening, but strategically left out the explicit details. His father did not need to know everything, Draco decided.

At last satisfied with the final outcome of the letter, Draco stood up and climbed out of the portrait hole. His owl was in the owllery upstairs and he needed to send the parchment to Malfoy Manor before dawn. Yes, the letter had to reach Lucius before next weekend or risk him coming to Hogwarts to check on him.

The sooner the letter was sent, the better.

________________________________________________________________________________

A sudden glare of light filled with small chamber by the flame from a single matchstick. Dark eyes gazed at the neat rows of framed wizard photos placed across the walls. Each picture showed the same girl, a very pretty witch with expressive eyes.

Yes, those eyes were the one that made her so outstanding from the other girls. She was the only person in the entire world who did not tease him or call him names. She was his friend, his first real friend.

She was someone who had understood him, someone who had treated him sincerely when the others thought he was a good target to bully. Pushing the sleeve of his robes up, he touched a long scar running along the length of his arm, feeling the rough surface of the healed skin.

It was a fateful day, in his Sixth Year, when his cauldron melted during a mixed Potions class with the Fifth Years. The Glass Potion he had been brewing exploded in his face, and he secretly suspected that one of his bullies had placed an extra ingredient into his cauldron when he was not looking - a fire snap. He was bleeding profusely from a cut caused by a flying shard of glass that had solidified and one entire side of his robes was soaked with a dark red liquid.

When his sight was blurring from the sudden loss of blood, he could hear taunts and jeers from his bullies and the rest of the class were howling in laughter. *”Look! He couldn't even brew a simple Glass Potion properly!”* one classmate called out loudly. He could only grit his teeth in anger and humiliation. When he tried to stand up, he discovered that his limbs were too weak and the entire world was spinning before his eyes.

Then, she was beside him, her beautiful eyes looking straight into his. Tapping her wand on his injured arm, she had removed the miniscule glass shards and the bleeding had begun to slow. Ripping the sleeve of her own robes, she had wrapped the cloth around his arm as a makeshift bandage before helping him to the hospital wing.

*"You will be fine. I know you will,"* he remembered her saying. It was the first time anyone had shown him mercy.

He gritted his teeth when unpleasant memories came floating into his mind next. *”Are you out of your mind? She is one of the Gryffindors! She is even romantically involved with one of the Four Marauders!”* a fellow Slytherin, Stephan Flint, hissed at him.

It was all a very long story to tell, but he remembered every detail with such precision that had haunted him for the last two decades. He knew she was seeing someone else long before he had first spoken to her.

Then it happened.

It was at a Quidditch match when they had blurred the lines between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. One thing led to another. Deep down in his heart, he knew had found the girl who he would give up everything in this whole wide world for her.

When the matchstick burnt out, he struck another. Another and another he struck, as he walked slowly around the small chamber to look deeply into each image of the girl. Reaching up a hand to touch the smiling face of the girl, he squeezed his eyes shut at those painful memories that had been embedded deeply in his mind.

So kind, so pretty, so innocent, she was. He loved her with all his heart and soul, and she had loved him back unconditionally. So pure was the love they shared, that she was the only precious happy memory he ever had.

When he lost her to them, he had thought of dying, but he could not let them get the last laugh. No! Never! The sweet smile of hers had kept him alive through the darkest days of his life, and he had not doubted for the slightest bit that she would continue to be a part of him, regardless of time and space that separated them now.

He knew that she would be his one and only true love.

He dropped the match he was holding onto the stone floor and watched it burn out. When the small room was engulfed in darkness once more, he turned around to walk away softly, his long robes sweeping the ground.

________________________________________________________________________________

Soft brown eyes gazed dreamily at the full moon resting in the ocean of stars. Ginny lay in her bed, her fiery red hair fanned out over the pillow as she gazed through the opened window opposite her bed. What happened tonight was strange, yet wonderful. A young man had come to her in the most romantic way possible, and he had spoken words that she would never imagine a wizard to say to her.

*"I'm Draco Malfoy, a 7th year Hogwarts prefect from Slytherin,"* Ginny played the sentence in her mind over and over again. There was no trace of scorn or contempt in the Slytherin's voice. She could only hear him making a good effort to know her and introduce himself to her, and undeniably, he had chosen the prefect moment to speak to her. What else could be more romantic than meeting a young man under the silvery moonlight in a deserted corridor?

What surprised Ginny most was Draco's attitude. He was so different from how Ron described him, or what she had seen through all these years at Hogwarts. The Malfoys were well known for their pure-blood supremacist beliefs, and they hated Muggles and their half-blood offspring with a passion.

From afar, Draco Malfoy was a typical Slytherin. He was a spiteful, mean, arrogant and hateful prat who couldn't care less about hurting other people.

He had been so different tonight. He was sensitive and playful, in his signature arrogant way. He was not the evil prefect that so many Gryffindor 6th Years feared. When he held her in his arms, there was already a revelation in her heart. She was a blossoming young woman, not the genderless person everyone around her assumed.

Perhaps, magic was at work tonight.

Perhaps, she had been too lonely for the past few years.

Perhaps, dear Merlin had pitied her and let someone else notice her, Malfoy or not.

Ginny couldn't help noticing the irony of this sudden growth of events. Malfoys and Weasleys didn't mix, like fire and ice. It was not that Ginny had never had a bad experience with the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy himself had slipped the cursed diary into her books and consequently placed her in mortal danger.

Ginny Weasley had once been a smart and outgoing girl who had crowds of friends before coming to Hogwarts, but a lot of things had happened since she came under Dumbledore's care. Her 1st year was the worst, and it was way back in 1993 when she accidentally opened the Chamber of Secrets. The following year was no better. She was ostracized by the girls and avoided like plague by the boys in her class. *”Look! There’s Ginny Weasley, the Gryffindor who has messed around with dark magic... She’s tainted!”* Ginny winced at the memory of those hateful words she overheard some Hufflepuffs whispering behind her back.

True, most students would not dare to hate her openly due to her brothers, especially Ron, who happened to be Harry Potter’s best friend; but she got left out of many fun things like those late-night parties at the Quidditch pitch. Perhaps they thought that she would go running to Ron or Harry if they were publicly mean, but Ginny wouldn’t do that. She had a backbone, and it was not made of cotton wool. Besides, Ron wouldn’t be a pretty sight to behold if he knew no-one wanted to be his baby sister’s friend.

To top it, Harry, Hermione and Ron didn't do much to ease the pain of being left out in everything.

A soft laughed escaped her throat. She was doomed to be alone, alienated by every student in all Four Houses. Even her favorite brother, Ron, was too busy playing Harry Potter's Male Sidekick. Hermione was the Female Sidekick and there was no room for a co-starring role featuring another Weasley, no matter how hard she tried to fit in with the Fabulous Trio. Ginny didn't choose to hide in the library. She didn't choose to be a quiet and shy girl. She didn't choose to be alone.

The sad thing was, no-one seemed to understand that. Not even Ron.

Only Tom had understood.

Yes, the one and only Tom Riddle.

Ginny remembered how good it felt to have someone who was willing to listen to her problems. No matter what she wrote in the diary, Tom was always there for her. When Tom tried to kill her later on, Ginny felt her heart broke into a million pieces. What had she done to have Tom treat her this way?

Tom M. Riddle was a name she could never forget for the rest of her life, for he was the Dark Wizard Lord Voldemort of today.

Life could be so unfair at times.

________________________________________________________________________________

Brilliant light shone down on them from the beautiful ceiling in Great Hall as hundreds of students gathered around their respective House tables for breakfast. Harry, Hermione and Ron sat in their usual places, eating pieces of buttered toast with marmalade complete with tall mugs of fresh pumpkin juice.

"Harry, it's Friday," Ron grumbled and set his goblet too hard down on the table. Pumpkin juice splashed onto his toast and the Weasley only glared at it irritably. "I can't believe the entire week just flew past us like that."

"So? Saturday comes after today," Hermione interrupted happily, ignoring Ron's dark look. "We get to go to Hogsmeade this Sunday, for your information." As she finished the sentence, she gathered her books and stood up.

"Yes, I 'know' tomorrow's Saturday, but we have Potions today," Ron sighed unhappily. "And it's a double period with the Slytherins. What a horrid way to end a week!"

"Oh..." Harry answered absentmindedly and stirred his bowl of oatmeal porridge. "Snape again..."

"Yes, and Snape is not in a particularly good mood these past few days. He had taken ten points away from Gryffindor because Neville forgot to address him 'sir' yesterday in class," Ron complained gloomily. "Merlin knows how many points more he will take from us today."

"Could it be because Sirius is smiling at him every dinner? Snape hates Sirius with all his heart," Harry tried to explain as he took a sip out of his goblet. After all, Snape was famous for his grudge-holding abilities against people he hated.

"Maybe, if he has a heart at all," Ron interrupted with a depressed sigh and picked up his books. Glancing at his watch, he gestured at Harry to hurry up.

True enough, the entire day was rather uneventful except for a very minor accident in Transfiguration when Neville's pincushion suddenly sprouted teeth (Poor Neville! A bungled spell again!) and went on a biting spree through class. Speaking of Neville, Harry couldn't help noticing that the boy seemed to be overwhelmed with fatigue since the opening feast and dark ugly rings were always present under his eyes. Feeling his heart clench, Harry forced himself not to think about Neville and his parents who were in St. Mungo’s.

No, Harry didn't feel unlucky at all when compared to Neville. Harry never knew his parents, but Neville was different.

Neville had parents who couldn't recognize their own son.

At last, the dreaded Potions period came. For the earlier part of the week, Snape had only entered class once due to the clash of timetables with the Sixth Years. Honeymoon was over for the Gryffindors.

Before time, Harry had found himself sitting together with Ron in Potions. Hermione was sitting alone by the corner and she didn't look particularly happy about the double period too. *How un-Hermione to dislike a teacher so much. Blame it on Snape,* Harry thought dryly.

Suddenly, the racket in the class was lowered to mere hushed whispers when an imposing figure in black robes strode into the classroom. Yes, Snape had walked in and his face was hard and cold as usual. The Potions Master then took time to look at each and every one of their faces. When his dark eyes peered at Harry, the poor boy felt a shiver running down his spine.

There was hatred and resentment in Snape's eyes. Wise wizards said that the eyes were the windows to one's soul. It was extremely easy to see that Snape detested Harry straight to the core of his wand by the way the teacher scrutinized the boy.

"The methods of today's potion are on page 10 of the textbook. Brew your potion carefully and make sure it is ready by the end of the day," Snape instructed curtly and folded his arms, his eyes glaring at the class. Meekly, the Gryffindors and Slytherins laid out their Potions kit on the wide table and began chopping up the ingredients needed for mixture.

"Gee, ‘slicing toad bowels into equal lengths’ again? They are so slippery and slimy," Ron groaned in frustration as his cleaver missed the intended mark again. “Will the fun never stop?”

"I hate Potions, but then again, it’s better than Divination," Harry sighed as he sneaked a peek at Hermione. She seemed to be hard at work, her head bent over the chopping board. Harry's green eyes followed her deft movements. Her long fingers were holding the knife expertly while another hand tossed some diced acorns into the bubbling cauldron. How he wished Hermione were here to help him...

"Potter, this is not the time to ogle girls," a cold voice interrupted him and Harry looked up in shock. Snape was standing in front of him, his lips twisted in a malicious smirk. "One day's detention for not paying attention in class. Be in my office at 8.30 tonight," Snape continued coolly and walked to the next table, purposely not catching the angry glare that Harry threw at him.

Harry could feel his ears burning in shame and anger when Draco Malfoy snickered and made a lewd comment on wandering eyes. The Slytherins exploded with laughter as Harry quickly focused his eyes on his work. Ron only managed to shoot him a sympathetic look, and Harry didn't feel much better over it. Getting stuck chopping up disgusting ingredients was bad, but detention with Snape was much worse. The Potions Master was famous for inventing horrible tasks like cleaning out bedpans in the hospital wing without any magic, and Harry wasn't looking forward to spending a relaxing Friday night slaving over some obscure task.

The poor boy could only sigh and wish for the class to be over soon.

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Emerald green eyes glanced at his watch impatiently as the hour hand moved to the number 'nine'. Straining his ears hard, Harry tried to listen if there were footsteps echoing down the passageway leading to the small office. It was not like Snape to be late for so long....

Leaning back into his seat again, Harry glanced around the room again and felt the hairs behind his neck prickled. He hated coming to Snape's office because it was filled to brim with assorted jars of preserved animal parts, including an eyeball extracted from a Howler Ape. *A dark creature again,* Harry thought and folded his arms. *Snape could be a vampire for all I know.*

Pushing his chair backwards, Harry stood up, ready to leave the dank office to look for Snape. Flipping his wide sleeves, Harry turned around and there was a sudden crash of glass shattering.

His heart skipped a beat.

The fabric of his robe had accidentally caught a greenish silver crystal ball and swept it off the Snape's table. The ground beside his feet was covered with fragments of the fragile ornament. Casting a backward glance at the door, Harry swallowed and prayed hard the nasty Potions Master would not walk into his office now.

Plucking his wand out of his pocket, Harry shouted, "Reparo!" Slowly, but certainly, glass shards flew up onto the table and began reassembling themselves into the original shape of the crystal ball. Harry heaved a sigh of relief as he stared at the stone floor. Luckily Snape wasn't here, or else he would give him one month's worth of detentions.

Suddenly, Harry found himself looking at a slab of stone with a slightly different hue from the rest of the floor. Bending down to examine the mismatched stone, he knocked it with his knuckles before tapping on the slab next to it.

There was a distinct difference in the sound.

Slowly, Harry traced the outline of the stone, realizing it resembled an oversized triangle. *Snape has a trapdoor here?* Harry thought and shouted 'Alohomora!'. He waited for a moment for the slab of stone to burst open, but it didn't even budge an inch.

Carefully, Harry tried prying the stone slab open with his fingers and gradually, the stone slab made a grinding sound as he heaved it aside. *It is ridiculously heavy,* Harry grumbled internally. *Why didn't Snape just enchant the trapdoor to open with a simple spell? Maybe there's some secret beneath it...* Peering through the opening, there was a black hole beneath the slab and he couldn't see anything beyond the darkness.

"Lumos," Harry whispered and held out his wand. The light hit a solid surface below him and the hole didn't seem to be too deep. For a moment, Harry contemplated on putting the stone slab back in place, but he decided against it. It was the perfect moment to find out more about Snape, although the professor might walk into the room any moment now.

Lowering himself carefully into the space beneath the trapdoor, Harry found himself looking at a small chamber. The space was spotless, and there was a single wicker chair in the middle of the room. Neat rows of shelves lined the walls and there were many objects placed on the wooden racks. Gently, Harry picked up the dried stalk of a rose and sniffed at it.

There was still a soft tingling scent.

With trembling fingers, Harry replaced the flower onto the rack and inspected the rest of the meticulously laid articles on it. There was a tin box with beautiful engravings and next to it was a tattered notebook. Quills with plumage from different birds adorned the plain wooden surface of the rack and there was a ladies robe folded neatly by their side.

Gritting his teeth, Harry picked up the tin box and opened it. There was a stack of yellowed parchments within it and they were filled with rows of beautiful cursive writing. Slowly, the curious boy picked one to read. "Dear Severus," Harry started reading, but stopped in fear of Snape walking into his office now. Stuffing the letter into his robes, Harry closed the lid of the tin box and replaced it onto the shelf, careful to put it exactly on the spot he moved it from.

Then, another object caught his eye.

At the far end of the wall hanged a huge picture of a smiling young witch and a wizard wearing a solemn expression on his face, and the couple in the picture looked shockingly familiar. Walking nearer to the picture, Harry could see stars swimming in front of his eyes. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. Flashing his wand at the other three sides of the room revealed more framed photos with the same couple, each showing a different background and the duo in various poses.

Then, his eyes fell upon a picture depicting the young witch and wizard locked in a passionate kiss. Harry felt his stomach churned as raw recognition washed over him.

Suddenly, there was a click of the doorknob turning.

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Coming up next chapter:

The next installment is also an important part of the story. Keep your eyes open!

P/S: Can anyone make an educated guess on who is the mysterious man with the box? No, he is not an original character. What about the identity of the young witch and wizard in the photos? Do tell me who you think they are through a review or an e-mail.

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5. untitled

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Title: Nox Noctis (5/?)

Author: Rhea Summers

E-mail: rheasummers@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Drama, Romance, Mystery

Key characters: Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, Ginny

Spoilers alert: All four books

Summary:

The plot thickens as we take a peek into the past, both Snape's and Draco's.

Disclaimer:

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. However, this story is also based very loosely on JRR Tolkien's 'The Lord of the Rings' and it belongs to all parties concerned. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's notes:

I'm sorry for putting this story on hiatus for more than a year. I was down with a serious case of Writer's Block, and I was also busy preparing my university application. Anyway, I hope I will be able to finish this fanfic before I leave for UK this September. Also, completing this story before OoTP comes out is impossible. Therefore, Nox Noctis is an AU, and will always be an AU.

Stepping over hot coals is the only expression I can think of while writing this chapter. I keep having this insane urge to delete the entire thing and rewrite it from scratch. Since I've already thrown out everything floating in my mind, I'm just going to post this online and get over my melodramatic mood swings. This chapter is already overdue by twelve months. For future updates and quirks relating to this story, go to [ http://www.livejournal.com/~rheasummers/ ]

Thanks to Alli and Sydney for their terrific beta job on this chapter.

~~~~~

Panic filled his mind as he jumped back at the soft click. He must not be caught by Snape! Only dear Merlin knew what the cruel teacher would do to him if he discovered that Harry had stumbled across his utmost personal chamber.

Gathering his wits, Harry hoisted himself out of the hole. Pointing his wand at the door, Harry whispered a short spell and sighed in short relief as the door jammed itself shut. A loud banging began, and he could hear Snape shouting threats from the other side of the door.

There was no time left.

Snape could burst through the door any time now. Harry felt a trail of sweat make its way down his forehead as he stuffed his wand back into the secure confines of his robe. He pushed with all his might at the stone slab, eager to replace it over the entrance to the secret room. The stone gave a low grinding sound and moved a few inches.

Harry gritted his teeth and with a final burst of strength, slid the obstinate stone into place. Overwhelmed with fatigue, Harry sat on the stone floor and dabbed his forehead with the sleeve of his robes, his mind still reeling from shock. The banging on the door grew louder and louder.

At that very moment, a loud voice shouted 'Alohomora!' and the door flew open. Snape stood in the dim corridor, his eyes glinting maliciously at the poor boy. Harry swallowed and stood up, his brilliant green eyes staring straight into Snape's black ones. A corner of the professor's mouth twitched as he scrutinized the boy, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Mr. Potter, why are you crawling on the floor?" Snape asked coldly, his face expressionless, but Harry could see a gleam of apprehension on his dark eyes. The Gryffindor gritted his teeth and set his lips in a straight line.

"My wand fell out of my pocket and I'm picking it up," Harry answered casually, careful to conceal the shock from showing in his voice. His heart was pounding so fast and hard that he could barely hear Snape's reply. He swallowed uneasily, unable to look Snape in the eye. What he saw in the small room was too sudden for him to digest in such a short time. Snape had looked so different when he was studying at Hogwarts, Harry noticed. *So does she...* the boy added mentally as his fist closed around the letter hidden within the confines of his robe.

"Go, Potter. You will serve your detention tomorrow night." Harry shot a puzzled glance at Snape but decided not to push his luck. It wasn't every day when Snape decided to postpone his detention. Besides, Harry wasn't ready to spend an entire night in a dank dungeon after... after... He stopped himself. He didn't even want to think about that now.

Muttering a short 'thank you, sir' under his breath, Harry squeezed past Snape and hurried down the corridor. Running as fast as his legs could carry him, he ducked around a corner of the passageway and heard the resounding bang of the heavy dungeon door being slammed shut.

Sliding down the cold stone walls, Harry buried his face in his hands. *No... No... I don't believe this...* he murmured over and over again, his emotions twisting in pure denial. Recent memories of the items he had found in Snape's chamber came flooding back into his consciousness. *No, the boy isn't him. He just isn't...* Harry's mind kept repeating the same mantra. Feeling a terrible ache all over his body, he leaned back against the wall, his mind a tangle of unsorted emotions.

*He is the one in the photo...* a voice whispered in his head. Harry let out a small groan. He had to be dreaming; this was not reality. Snape had manipulated those photos! It couldn't be her!

Harry squeezed his eyes shut in a futile effort to erase the horrifying images from his memory. The young man in the wizarding photo couldn't be more than seventeen, and he certainly didn't look like Professor Snape, the severe Potions Master of Hogwarts. He had a finely chiseled face framed with shoulder-length, slicked back, dark hair, and he wore neatly pressed black robes with a Slytherin emblem on the front. His prominent cheekbones accentuated his sharp features, although his skin tone was rather pale in comparison to his raven black hair. Of all things, Harry could not forget the expression in his eyes. Those smoldering dark eyes were filled with an intense light, completely unlike the cold and calculating ones Harry had grown so accustomed to in Potions class. They were... alive, vibrant with youthful spirit and high hopes. Although Snape had changed a lot in twenty years, Harry was reasonably sure that the boy-wizard in the photo was his Potions teacher. Who else had that trademark smirk other than Severus Snape?

Harry's thoughts blurred together again when he remembered the smiling girl, the pretty redhead in Snape's embrace. Mere minutes ago, Harry had been staring into her clear green eyes, eyes that were so alive with mirth and joy.

Yes, the pair of emerald green eyes that mirrored his own.

Harry knew it from the moment he set his sight on her. Harry had never known his parents, nor could he remember their faces, but the memory of them looking back at him in the Mirror of Erised was fresh in his mind. The girl's expression had been reflected in his parents' wedding photo in Hagrid's album, his only worldly connection to James and Lily Potter. Since the second time he boarded the Hogwarts Express for school, Harry had closed his eyes and imagined his mother kissing him goodbye on Platform 9 3/4. He could see her smile, and feel her soft lips on his forehead. She would be waving at him as the train pulled away from the platform, together with other mothers, smiling at him with tears in her eyes.

There was no way he could have mistaken someone else for her.

Lily Potter... No, Lily Evans wasn't much younger than Snape when the photo was taken, Harry realized, and Snape looked like he was in his seventh year at that time. Sirius had once told him that his parents got married two years after graduating from Hogwarts, and he had been the best man at their wedding. Harry had a photo of his parents' wedding party too, and his mother certainly didn't look very much older than the girl in the photos from Snape's secret chamber.

Taking in a deep breath, Harry swallowed to quell the queasy feeling in his stomach. A blush crept up his cheeks as he tried to block the memory of the final photo he had seen in Snape's chamber. The wizarding photo was beautiful, with golden oak leaves floating down gently in the soft breeze, circling the couple who—like it or not—looked like they were madly in love.

A sickening thought suddenly invaded Harry's mind. Did his mother truly love Snape before she married his father? If so, did James Potter know about Snape and his mother? Why did his mother leave Snape then? What could Lily Evans have possibly seen in Snape?

Most curiously, who could have taken the photos of his mother and the Potions Master?

Then another sickening question struck him. *Is it because of mum that Snape hates me so much?* Harry didn't dare to answer that question. Just thinking about it was taboo.

*Oh Merlin, did mum leave Snape because of dad?*

To Harry, Severus Snape had shown himself as every bit of the slimy git Sirius had declared him to be. He was a big bully, a terribly biased teacher who picked on Gryffindors and favored Slytherins blatantly, and a horribly strict lecturer. Harry couldn't bring himself to think of anything good about Snape, nor could he imagine his mother liking the cold and cruel man Harry had known through his years at Hogwarts.

Hearing the letter rustle from within the safe confines of his robes gave Harry a strong urge to read the contents. His fingers closed around the aged parchment, and he pulled the letter free from his clothes. Under the dim light of the torch above him, Harry could make out the fine cursive writing lining the yellowed piece of paper.

*What did mum see in Snape?* Harry asked listlessly to no one in particular as he pushed a lock of black hair away from his forehead. The corridors of the dungeons seemed to be even colder than before. Exhaling slowly, Harry folded the letter and replaced it into his pocket.

No, he couldn't bring himself to read those words yet because he wasn't ready to know about Snape's relationship with his mother. Be it a platonic friendship or a sizzling romance, Harry was not sure he could take the latter in a gentlemanly fashion.

No, now was not the right time.

Holding onto a jutting rock on the stone wall, Harry heaved himself up the wall and trudged slowly back to Gryffindor Tower. He needed a good night's sleep after this evening's ordeal. He would see Sirius first thing tomorrow morning. Sirius would tell him the truth. Yes, Sirius would know the real story behind these pictures.

Godfathers never lie to their godsons, right?

~~~~~

Seeing the retreating shape of the boy, Snape slammed the door shut. Stalking forward to sit at his desk, he picked up his quill and starting scratching notes on leaves of parchments. Ugly scrawls mocked him as he struggled to mark the essays.

Finally, Snape crunched the scribbled parchment with his fist and threw it into a bucket filled with concentrated acid under his desk, his mind thick with frustration. The tired man sighed and leaned back in his chair.

Something was amiss tonight, but he simply couldn't place a finger on it. Life had been chaotic for the last few days. Sirius Black had returned to Hogwarts to teach Care of Magical Creatures. Severus Snape despised Black, the ringleader of the notorious Four Marauders during their schooldays together, more than anyone else in the world. No matter what Snape did, Sirius Black would always spoil everything and get him into trouble with professors.

Snape clenched his jaw. Sirius Black had openly challenged him during breakfast earlier this morning. He remembered breathing in slowly and fighting the urge to wipe that smug smile off Black's face with the tablecloth in front of Dumbledore.

Then, hours earlier, he had attended a Death Eater gathering in Edinburgh. He had Apparated to Scotland and back to Hogsmeade in one single evening. Apparation was very energy consuming, especially over long distances. Snape didn't care much about the physical stress he had undertaken, as Dark activity had been on the rise lately.

Dumbledore had advised him to keep a watchful eye on other Death Eaters, specifically Lucius Malfoy. The Headmaster didn't indulge on saying anything else than the Malfoys were up to no good together with Voldemort. Again, Lucius Malfoy was his arrogant self tonight and Snape didn't notice anything strange with him.

Crossing over to the Dark had been easy, but taking that crucial step back on the White Side had been far more difficult. His pledge of allegiance to the dark side had resulted from a moment of pure foolishness that had thrown him off-balance and stirred the great amount of negative emotions that resided in his heart. He did not need to feel the presence of the Dark Mark on his forearm; the throbbing sensation was there all the time, constantly reminding him of his past - his past as a Death Eater.

Lines a great Oriental philosopher once said floated into Snape's mind: "All humans were born with a soul as pure as a sheet of clean paper, only to be tainted by unsightly smudges of greed, evil and jealousy later in life."

Snape scowled darkly. How truly those words rang. Yet, the wise man had forgotten to mention an important corollary: no matter how hard one tried to erase those black marks off his soul later in life, they would still remain as a memento of wrongdoings. If only it were possible to wipe away those dark stains as easily as cleaning coffee spills with a damp rag.

Three years... He had lived past the darkest three years of his life as Voldemort's aide, when he was nothing but a slave and a dog confined to the Dark Lord's instrumentality. Severus Snape owed his life to Albus Dumbledore; the great professor had risked everything to pull him back into his correct mind.

Snape closed his eyes briefly, remembering the past. It was a moment of utmost desperation and disappointment that had forced him to cross the thin red line between Good and Evil.

And it was a foolish act.

What mattered most now was that the Dark Lord had risen three years ago. Terror would reign again on British ground. The Inner Circle had turned more secretive over the past months, and it was getting increasingly hard to penetrate the closely woven net of information about Voldemort himself. The Death Eaters were reluctant to accept Snape back into the circle because he had once left the Dark Lord's service. Once bitten, twice shy--although he could not picture Lucius Malfoy being shy.

Clenching his teeth, Snape stood up and pushed his armchair back in place.

"Potter!" Snape muttered under his breath and gripped the edge of the table until his hand hurt. Moments before, Potter had been here and he was sitting sprawled out on the floor.

Wait, had he discovered... her?

An icy cold sensation washed over him as he stood face to face with his greatest fear. What if he had discovered... her?

Crouching quickly, Snape stared at the subtly marked floor. Shoving his fingers under the heavy granite slab, he heaved and the stone moved reluctantly to reveal a gaping black hole. Retrieving his wand from the confines of his robe, he whispered 'Lumos!' and jumped into the dark cavity.

The chamber looked the same as the last time he was here. Walking past the rows of neatly arranged objects, Snape scrutinized every minute detail. There was still a fine layer of dust over the coloured set of quills made from the plumage of various exotic birds. Gently, he blew softly and watched the thin film of dust dissipate into misty white clouds. Satisfied with their condition, Snape took a step backwards and moved along the long row of shelves.

*There are no signs of Potter being in here,* an assuring voice whispered in his head.

Harry Potter was the son of James Potter, the godson of Sirius Black. Potter and Black were his two worst enemies, and no son of theirs had any right to know about her. No, she was someone from his past, and the boy had no right to know more about her. He had no right to share Snape's memory of Lily Evans.

Although many might think that a harsh person like Severus Snape would be incapable of love, they would be deeply mistaken. He was human too, but he had chosen to wear a cold façade, a façade that would protect him from being wounded again.

Once, he had been young and rash like young Potter and his sidekicks. He had tasted love, although love did not present him with a happy ending. The memory of the first time he noticed her remained vivid still. They had been in their fourth year, and Slytherins and Gryffindors had their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes together: She was always sitting in the second row with her dorm mates, while he was always sitting at the back of the class with the other Slytherins.

He never really got to know her before his sixth year, the year when their Potions Master decided to have combined lectures. Slytherin was paired up with Gryffindor, and Professor Burette made sure everyone had a desk mate from the other house, despite protests from the students. It happened that the redheaded beauty was assigned to sit with him, and from there, a relationship began. First, only a few short words and some stilted dialogue were exchanged between the two, but soon, he had unwittingly shown her the other side of his personality. Yes, he had a side that he had long suppressed beneath the cool exterior all Snapes were expected to put on.

The Snape family had always been a great supporter of the Dark Arts, although they had not been involved in major battles against the White Wizards. Severus Snape had grown up among wizards that prided themselves as purebloods, wizards who considered Muggle-borns and half-bloods filth. Snape had accepted all of those beliefs as facts—until learning that his Lily had Muggle parents.

She... She was different.

*"Severus!"* he remembered her clear voice calling him from the depths of his memory.

The recollections of the fateful day when they crossed the fragile barrier that separated friendship and love rushed back to him.

~~~~~

"Severus!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. A soft breeze ruffled long silky strands of his glossy black hair as his fist closed around his racing broom tightly. Dressed in full Quidditch gear, he had been preparing for the upcoming game. The match was about to begin in a few minutes, and the spectators were starting to gather beside the pitch. The match between Slytherin and Gryffindor was the most crucial match of this year.

"What do you want?" he asked her coldly, his voice oddly detached, before he started to stride away. A pair of hands grasped his arm, pulling him to a halt.

"He doesn't mean it, Severus. It's not true. I don't pity you," the redhead said suddenly, making him stop dead in his tracks. What did she say? That she didn't pity him? That he was not some snappish wounded puppy she had picked up from the streets of Hogsmeade? No, he would not fall into one of their tricks again. No!

"Sirius was angry just now and you know very well I didn't befriend you because you are nothing more than an oily prat! If you walk away and try to pretend that what he said is true, I'll be very disappointed in you."

"Why should I believe you? You are one of them," Snape hissed, his eyes blazing. Taking a step towards the girl, he whispered silkily, his voice masking every trace of rage and humiliation, "Every word Black said rings true of what you Gryffindors think of me. Don't you dare to come near me ever again or risk being tainted by my dabbling in the Dark Arts. I don't need your sympathy, Lily Evans."

Turning around, he walked away again, leaving the girl standing alone.

"Wait, I have something to tell you," the girl half-shouted and quickly stepped forward to stand in front of him. Deep pools of green looked earnestly into his black eyes and he sighed to himself. *Just look away, Severus,* a voice whispered in his head. Breaking off eye contact, he stared at the noisy grounds decked with banners and flags in Gryffindor and Slytherin house colors.

"The match is starting, Evans. You shouldn't be seen here with the Slytherin Seeker," he answered curtly and shook off her hands. "You can go back running into your beloved's arms if you want." He clenched his jaw tightly when he saw her flinching at his words.

"I... I just want you to be more careful this time. Sirius was quite upset when you ticked him off in DADA yesterday," she whispered softly and turned around to walk away. "Just... be careful."

Three simple words, and time froze. "Wait, why did you say that? Don't you like seeing me get hurt?" he asked suddenly, the words escaping from his throat in a growl. He didn't understand why she told him that. "Don't Gryffindors like Slytherins getting injured? Evans, don't think that I'm an idiot."

"No, I don't like seeing anyone get hurt," the redhead answered slowly. He could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Choosing to ignore her reply, he took a step forward and focused his eyes on the cheering spectators milling around the Quidditch pitch. Suddenly, he stopped. "Tell Black to watch his own back."

Not wanting to hear anything else from the girl, he stalked towards the Quidditch pitch. The match was about to start at any moment, and he hadn't briefed his team yet. His mind was a swirling nebula of confused feelings. He could feel a slight twinge of joy stemming from Lily's confession, but it dissipated quickly only to be replaced by the horrid sensation of shame and humiliation from Sirius Black's words.

Rumors had spread like wildfire around the school after that incident in Potions that he, Severus Snape, wanted to be romantically involved with a Gryffindor. He doubted any Gryffindor in her right mind would want to befriend him, but Lily did. She helped him in Potions when Professor Burette wanted him to come up with a muting potion overnight. If those stolen glances and accidental touches didn't mean anything, what else was going on between them?

Then he realized that they were spending more and more time together. The Slytherins weren't happy with the idea of their Quidditch team captain being friends with a measly Gryffindor. The Gryffindors had given him a lot of flack by the constant jeering in the Great Hallway. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs didn't dare to do anything but he could still hear hushed whispers behind his back.

Perhaps the unhappiest of the lot were the Four Marauders, his sworn enemies. *Sirius Black,* Snape thought sourly. Of the four, Black had teased and ridiculed him from the very first day in Hogwarts. For the past six years, they had ended up having ten fistfights, twenty detentions together and countless heated arguments. He smirked mentally. Why on earth would he want to keep track of every single tug of annoyance he felt when Black's irritating face popped up in front of him?

This morning was far from the worst encounter he had ever experienced with Sirius Black and James Potter, his archenemies. Word had been going around that he and Lily Evans had been getting closer and closer since the Potions accident. In fact, it was said that Lily had starting seeing him instead. What had Black called him this morning apart from his usual insult starting with the word 'slimy hair'? Oh yes, he labeled him as a git who didn't have an ounce of self-dignity and that he was so thick-skinned to even think about making Lily his own. James Potter was there too, glaring at him with his arms crossed. There was something about James Potter that Snape couldn't place, and he did not like it.

"Sirius Black will pay for this," Snape growled softly, his fist closing around the handle of his racing broom tightly as he walked into the waiting space reserved for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

"Severus, are you going to start briefing? Madam Dowell is about to blow her whistle," a loud voice rang out beside him. Snapping out of his silent reverie, he glared dangerously at his Beater, Stephan Flint. His Slytherin teammates had already gathered around him, fuelled by the cheering spectators far above.

"He's probably daydreaming about snogging a *certain* Gryffindor Chaser," a female voice chimed in coolly. That hit the nail on its head. His heart flinched involuntarily as the words stung Snape like toadstool poison. To say anything regarding the Gryffindors was taboo in the Slytherin Quidditch camp.

"Nobody would say that you're lacking a mouth if you don't speak, Narcissa," Snape retorted sarcastically. Eying her silver blonde hair and pale features in distaste, he set his lips in a straight line and stood straight up to survey the team.

"It would help if you don't spend so much time looking at her," the tall girl whispered softly and wrapped her slender fingers around his arm as the other hand started running along the length of his forearm. Not bothering to shake her off this time, Snape strode to the entrance of the Quidditch pitch. The clock on the wall showed that it was five minutes past four. He only had ten minutes before the match would start. Clearing his throat to catch the attention of his teammates, he folded his arms and looked at each and every one of their faces.

The entire room turned silent. The tension in the air was palpable, but Snape didn't care much for the uneasy feeling that was growing steadily among the small group of Slytherins. This would be his first time going against someone who had called herself his friend. Her words rang clearly in his head again, *"Just... be careful."* Shoving aside the growing doubt in his heart, he braced himself and looked straight into the eyes of every player dressed in green and silver.

Slowly, he took a deep breath. "At six o'clock sharp today, the Gryffindors are going back to their common room in a sorry state." He smirked in approval as the entire room resounded with a thundering 'yes!' from every player. Edgily, his hand reached out to push open the doors that shielded his team away from the prying eyes of both fans and Slytherin haters. A loud boom of applause filled the room as tendrils of sunlight washed in.

Snape narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the opposite end of the Quidditch field. The Gryffindors were starting to line up already. Gesturing to his teammates, they quickly lined up behind him. Step by step, he walked out onto the lush green lawn of the majestic Quidditch pitch with hundreds of cheering spectators giving their favorite teams moral support.

He set his eyes on the flowing red and gold robes of the Gryffindor team. *One... Two... Three...* he counted silently. His eyes narrowed dangerously when he saw Sirius patting Lily's shoulder. *Him again…* Snape thought bitterly. Ignoring the soft crunch of fragile grass blades beneath his feet, he strode forward stiffly and looked into the smoky brown eyes of James Potter, Seeker and Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Snape looked icily into James Potter's brown eyes and waited for him to extend his hand.

"Team Captains, please shake hands!" Madam Dowell barked impatiently and folded her arms.

"Only if Vampire Boy doesn't burst into flames suddenly. C'mon, it's still daylight, right?" a voice drawled jeeringly in front of him. Snape clenched his jaw and shot Sirius Black a cold look. The Gryffindor only shrugged and flashed him an innocent smile. Then, Lily's eyes made contact with his, sending a burning ache into the pit of his stomach. His gaze eventually settled on a male hand around her shoulders. His hand shook slightly as he gripped the handle of his racing broom tightly.

Tearing his eyes from her, Snape's fingers closed around James Potter's hand and shook it briefly. Refusing to look at Lily, Potter, or Black, he mounted his broom and the entire Slytherin team followed suit. Quickly, fourteen brooms rose in the air and players from both squads took their respective positions on the Quidditch pitch. Taking his position far above other players, Snape scrutinized the layout below him. The Slytherins had taken their places very well, and he felt himself heaving a silent sigh of relief.

Then, he caught sight of the Gryffindors. Lily was hovering between the two other Gryffindor Chasers below him, getting ready to catch the Quaffle as soon as it was released. The soft breeze ruffled her ponytail, and he pictured a determined look on her face. Letting his eyes float towards the Gryffindor Beaters, he saw Sirius Black leaning towards Frank Longbottom for some last minute discussion. *Probably planning on dangerous tactics to knock me off my broom. Why won't Black leave me alone even in Quidditch?* Snape thought sourly and chose to look away from his archenemy at the other side of the pitch.

A sudden blast of the whistle rang in his ears. The crowd roared as six broomsticks raced towards the oval-shaped ball. The match between the Gryffindors and Slytherins had officially begun.

Focusing his eyes on James Potter, Snape noticed that the slim Gryffindor Seeker was not paying full attention to the game. It was as if he was distraught, but James Potter was well known for keeping calm in dangerous situations. The match was close this time, and Slytherin escaped with many fouls, as Gryffindor wasn't playing at their top form that day. The crowd gasped loudly as Lily Evans failed to catch the Quaffle again.

Ignoring the game below him, Snape starting flying in circles on lookout for the tiny golden ball. Out of a corner of his eye, James Potter was hovering aimlessly above the Slytherin goalmouth. *To hell with James Potter,* Snape thought and halted his broom.

"Gryffindor 30! Slytherin 10!"

Snape jerked his head just in time to watch Lily being congratulated by her fellow Chasers as she raced away from the Slytherin goalmouth. *Narcissa won't be happy about that,* Snape whispered mentally as he held back a smirk. Seconds later, the crowd exploded into another huge round of applause after the Quaffle flew through one of the Gryffindor hoops and Narcissa began reeling away in a victorious ride on her broomstick.

"You like her, don't you," a voice said slowly behind him. There was no need to turn his head around to see who the speaker was.

In a detached voice, he answered coldly, "Since when are you so concerned with my personal life? Well, you shouldn’t be, considering that you are a nothing more than an idiotic Gryffindor." Snape flashed a smirk and glared at James Potter. "Why do you care anyway?"

Steadily, Snape let a smug smile spread across his face as Potter hovered on his broom speechless. “Because I do,” he said quietly. Before Snape could answer, he dove downwards suddenly, cutting across Snape’s path, drawing a surprised look from the Slytherin.

Looking down, Snape saw a faint glimmer of gold and realization sunk in painfully. “NO!” he shouted and raced after the speeding Gryffindor. The loud cheering from the audience melted away in a blur as he concentrated harder on the tiny speck of gold at the end of the field, near the tallest Gryffindor goalmouths. Potter was only five feet away from him now, owing to Snape’s brand new Nimbus 500.

*Near now… Very near…* Snape whispered mentally as he streaked past Potter. Potter’s gasp of surprise went unheeded by Snape as the crowd roared louder. Locking his legs around the broomstick, Snape leaned forward, his arm outstretched as he reached for the Golden Snitch floating ahead of him. He could feel the wind whistling past him and sense the crowd’s anticipation as the tiny ball came into focus.

“SIRIUS…! NO!” a female screamed pierced the air like a sharp knife. *Lily!* Snape thought in shock. Before Snape had time to react, he felt a heavy object slam into his head and his grip around the broom handle loosened.

The world started spinning before his eyes. Everyone seemed to be moving in slow motion. The din from the crowd had lowered to a barely detectable whisper in his ears. Trying to in vain to keep his balance, he could feel his grip slipping and slowly as he tilted sideways. Clumsily, he tried to make a wild grab for his broomstick, but there was only empty air with nothing to cling on.

Then, someone caught his arm. Hazily, he looked up to see his savior and a pair of brown eyes glared back at him. *James Potter?* he thought dazedly as the heavy pounding in his head worsened.

“Hold on…” Snape managed to make out the words James Potter growled through gritted teeth. The Gryffindor seeker was obviously straining to pull him up. Another dizzy spell hit Snape.

A loud rip echoed as Snape’s Quidditch sleeve tore away.

The pounding in his head got louder than ever.

He plummeted towards the ground at breakneck speed. His legs gave way under a sickening crunch and burning pain seared his entire body like flames licking hungrily at firewood.

He did not remember anything after darkness suffocated him, nor did he see the tears that were streaming down Lily Evans's cheeks as she knelt over him.

~~~~~

~~~~~

Dreams did not come easily through mere slumber. Undisturbed sleep was even more difficult to come by, he thought as he lay silently in his bed, his ice gray eyes focusing on the intricate craving on the grand canopy. There was so much to do, so much to think about, particularly after all those half-dreams that plagued him night after night.

Half-dreams? There was no real distinction between the real and unreal in Dreamscape. Wizards had long discerned this theory of dreams mirroring your everyday worries and obsessions, and what you constantly think about in the day may just seep over into your otherwise, peaceful sleep. For Draco, childhood memories had flashed across his sub-conscious, each sequence bringing a myriad of different emotions.

This time, he dreamed that he was building a sandcastle by the sea. Ah, the sea. He had only visited a beach when he was a small boy of five. Being registered on an Unplottable location, Malfoy Manor lay someplace in the middle of England, in the outskirts of Leicester. No sand, no sea and no sun; it was not a surprise he never got a lasting tan or streaks of sun-kissed locks of hair. On one occasion, however, his mother had brought him to the seaside in a secluded location in Cardiff, Wales. The sea was deceptively calm and the azure sky was dotted with puffs of cotton-white clouds. It was a fine day, a day which he left the drafty confines of Malfoy Manor to enjoy his childhood.

~~~~~

He was trying to build a sandcastle. He had fantasized about living in faraway castles where he ruled an imaginary kingdom, like what Aunt Ferri told him. He would ride a white stallion and save a beautiful princess from trolls and demons in another kingdom.

And then, they would kiss and live happily ever after.

Fine grains of yellow sand trickled past his fingers as he scooped up a handful, trying to press the formless material into a cube. Maybe the sand was not wet enough. Maybe his fingers were not strong enough. A thousand different maybes plagued his mind, but the sand simply would not stick together.

*Why won't the sand stay?* the small boy asked aloud but neither the sky or the sea answered his question. An hour could have passed, or perhaps more than six hours had, but the boy continued relentlessly, his strong will to build the castle motivating him.

Then, another pair of hands scoped up some sand to pat it onto his castle. "Mother?" he asked. A pair of icy gray eyes looked serenely at him. He had always loved looking at her long slender hands and delicate facial features, so identical to his own.

"Draco, perhaps we should go back to the manor," she began softly, her voice bringing out an edge of sadness.

"No, Mother. I want to finish building this sand castle," he said. He did not know why he had to complete the sand building. He just knew he had to. He scooped up another handful and pressed it onto the pitiful mound on the ground. As before, the sand spilled sideways into a small slope.

"Father will be angry if we are late for dinner," she coaxed. He stopped pressing sand onto his creation and lifted his head to look at her. A faint smile graced her lips as she touched the curve of his cheek gently. Mother always had a faraway look in her eyes. It was as if she regretted ever marrying Lucius Malfoy and having a son like him.

The small boy did not know the true story behind this. He wanted to know, but Mother would always shake her head slowly every time he asked if all parents grow apart after marrying each other. Deep in the little boy's mind, he had decided not to marry any girls. After all, Father and Mother were never happy together.

With his little hands patting the sand under his mother's watchful gaze, he tried to work as fast as possible. *Father would be angry if we are not home for dinner,* the boy's mind spoke, yet he could not leave his sandcastle unfinished. Finally, the short and stout turret materialized under his thin fingers. He made a turret! He made a turret!

Most of all, he did not fail.

Finally, he gazed into his mother's gray eyes. "Let's go home, Mother," he said half-heartedly. He did not want to leave the beautiful beach. He did not want to miss the brilliant sight of the sun setting in the horizon, but he had to go.

He had to go because Father would be angry if they did not show up for dinner.

Taking his mother's hand, the little boy stood up, his hands and knees soiled with pale yellow sand. As both mother and son walked away from the his small retreat, neither one realized the turret that the little boy had built with his bare hands was washed away by the foamed-tipped waves rolling onto the shore.

~~~~~

Slowly, the retreating shapes blurred and Draco found himself staring at another scene.

~~~~~

The sun was shining brightly through the brilliant green foliage of an apple orchard. Hints of red were starting to peek out between the leaves of those trees. Summertime, it was during summer when this happened.

Yes, Mother would make my favorite apple pies again, thought Draco.

A middle-aged man and a young boy of seven stood on a small clearing surrounded by five apple trees. The young boy had a broom in his hands, a sense of childish innocence painted his sharp features. The older man had a broom with him too, but it was a bigger and more expensive model.

"Draco, I'm teaching you how to fly now," the handsome man spoke smoothly with a smile. The young boy looked upon his father, his eyes shining with anticipation. He saw hope and expectations in his father's face. He was the only son, the only heir to the Malfoy clan. He had seen the numerous awards that adorned the walls of his father's study, and he wanted to be like his father one day: famous, powerful and wealthy; but being a young boy himself, he was also eager to taste the sweet flavor of freshly baked apple pies after the lesson.

"Now, put your broom on the ground. Place your hand directly above the handle and say 'up'," Lucius instructed demonstrating once for the young boy to watch. The older man then nodded once and waited for the boy to try.

His hands sweating and trembling, he did what his father told him, but nothing happened. "Up!" he shouted again. Nothing happened. The wooden form of the broom lay motionless on the ground. He looked up at his father, but the man's face was cold and expressionless, his steely eyes betraying no sliver of emotion.

The young boy tried again and again, desperate to prove himself, eager to show his father that he was worthy of a training to be a great wizard one day. No matter how loud he shouted, or how many beads of perspiration rolled down his forehead, the broom still refused to move an inch, let alone hover in the air.

"Draco, maybe you are a Squib after all," the man sighed, his eyes flashing with unbridled resentment and disappointment. "You can't be my son. Malfoys don't weep like girls."

"No, I'm not a Squib!" the young boy insisted angrily and tried again. Hot tears of frustration streamed down his cheeks under the hot sun. Earlier thoughts of eating his favorite apple pie were left forgotten in a corner of his mind. He must prove himself to be worthy of magical training to his father! Crushing waves of fear and uncertainty started to suffocate the boy, weakening his resolve and defenses as the still form of the broomstick lay motionless on turfs of green grass.

Summoning the final trickles of his concentration, he shouted for the broom to rise. Finally, the broom hovered weakly in the air. Triumphant with his achievement, the young boy turned to look at his father, but the man was already nowhere in sight. It felt as if bands of steel had tightened around his chest painfully.

"Why, Father? Why didn't you wait to see me ride my first broom?" the boy cried out as even more tears rushed out from his eyelids. "Did I disappoint you?" Using the clean and pristine sleeve of his shirt, he wiped those defiant tears away. As illusionary as it might seem, only the cheerful chirping of sparrows answered him – such a mockery he had to endure.

Obstinately, the boy lifted a leg over the hovering broomstick and gripped his hand tightly around the handle. He was going to fly today, with or without his father's help. He would prove himself to be worthy of Lucius Malfoy's attentions. He had to make sure that no one ever looked down on him. That day, the young boy formed a solid resolve in his heart.

From that day onwards, the small boy never shed tears ever again.

~~~~~

Such dreams had not plagued Draco for a very long time, not since he arrived at Hogwarts. He had done everything in his power to prove himself. He worked hard during classes to score good grades. He worked extra hard to come neck-to-neck with Mudblood Granger, all for the Malfoy name. Yet somehow, his past uncertainties and fears were starting to resurface.

As to what he could possibly be uncertain or afraid of, Draco could not comprehend. So much had happened since the summer holidays. Not wanting to recall memories of his initiation, he pushed those thoughts away and tried to leave his mind blank.

Seconds ticked by and Draco sighed inwardly. His head was starting to throb from a dull pain, and he did not feel like going to the hospital wing to ask that old cow Pomfrey for a soothing potion. Throwing the rich satin coverlets aside, he fluffed his pillow up and lay down, willing himself to go to sleep again. At least he was sure that Ginny Weasley would show up on the rendezvous he arranged earlier that night.

*So close to making her crack tonight…* Draco thought as a smug smile touched his lips. Ginny Weasley was no different from all other girls. Girls were insecure little beings whose hearts would melt after you whispered tender nothingness into their ears. Bait them with soft words and half-touches in a so-called romantic setting, and they would crawl after you on their knees.

But what was the fun of seeing girls crawl on their knees?

The real fun would kick in after they pledged to do anything under your will. The feeling of being in control of the situation was exhilarating. Call him a power-lusting maniac or a manipulative bastard, the rush of adrenaline that came along with absolute control was addictive. One day in the near future, he would take over his father's place as Lord Voldemort's right-hand man. He would command legions of Death Eaters.

A sly smile touched his lips. One day, he would be Minister of Magic too. He would control the financial hub of the wizarding world, and the Malfoy name would be known as the most powerful pureblood families of this century!

Then, he thought he heard a soft tapping on the window. Silhouetted by the pale silver moonlight, a majestic black hunting owl was perched the windowsill next to him. Correction, it was Lucius Malfoy's owl; Draco would recognize it even if it were reduced to ashes. *So soon?* Draco thought in pure surprise. It would take hours, days even, for the swiftest owls to fly to Malfoy Manor and back.

*Unless… something unexpected happened,* a soft voice whispered from the back of his consciousness. Extracting a bulky envelope tied to the owl's leg, he rolled open the parchment and a small vial of purple liquid dropped onto his opened palm.

After scanning through the letter, Draco held the vial up in the moonlight. The edge of his lips curled in a soft smirk as he crumpled the letter slowly.

"It will be done, Father."

~~~~~

"My Lord, Draco is still relatively inexperienced. Do you think Draco will be able to…" Lucius Malfoy asked in a low tone, the embers of the fire in the hearth still flickering in the dead of the night.

"I have faith in the boy, Lucius. Ask no further questions. He will succeed."

~~~~~~

Extra A/N:

1. I know my Narcissa is portrayed differently through Draco's and Snape's perspective. I did it on purpose.

2. James is a Seeker here. I'm following the movie canon. It doesn't really matter.