Tablula Rasa

EDIT: I finally got the chapter to show up. I don't know what happened, but I'm glad I finally got it to work. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! They keep me going; reviews are food for a writer's soul. ^_~

AN: I know I promised this a LONG time ago, but due to RL, it just didn't happen. I'm sorry, and I hope you enjoy this part. Dedicated to Rei, Ryuu, and Jenn with love.


Tabula Rasa Pt. 2/?

Draco sighed heavily as the train finally came to a stop. He slowly got up from his seat and walked over to the large window to check his reflection, and he snorted in disgust at the ragged sight that greeted him. Draco carefully smoothed out his black robes and fixed the fastenings on the school robes with a scowl. He had barely managed to survive the trip to Hogwarts without going insane and hexing the imbeciles he had considered allies all these years. He had been so wrapped up in the Malfoy name and way of life, he had never realized how arrogant and superficial they all truly were; himself included.

He had sat quietly beside his usual inner circle, consisting of Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy, as they recounted stories of their summer, each one more embellished than the one before. Draco had felt his stomach turn, completely scandalized, when Pansy had attached herself to his arm, her foul, pungent perfume assaulting his senses with its stench when she had leaned over towards him, her dark eyes shining with a mischievous glint. Her large breasts had barely been contained within her silk, jade dress as she moved to grab his hand and brazenly placed it on her thigh. Pansy’s breath had been hot and suffocating as she nuzzled his neck, all the while whispering that she was available to help with any service that Lord Malfoy might require. It had taken everything within him not to tear her off of his arm, push her away and spell himself clean. Draco had managed to gently pull himself out of her grasp, tapping her gently on the nose as one would to pacify a child. He had then given her a sly wink before moving to sit on the other side of the compartment, far from her repulsive touch. The pout she had sent his way in return had made his skin crawl.

He had nearly bit his tongue in half as he listened to them laugh and joke about tidbits they had managed to pick up from their fathers over the summer in regard to the attack on the Ministry. Since Lucius had been captured in the attack, Draco had no knowledge of the details that had occurred that horrible night. He had been horrified to hear about some of the things that had taken place, and awed at the sheer Gryffindor courage and bravery, not to mention the stupidity, it must have taken for Potter and his group to storm the Ministry alone. The fact that some of them had barely survived the experience and still faithfully followed Potter astounded Draco, and he was once again gripped by a blinding jealousy that left him winded. That kind of friendship and trust was something completely unknown to him, and it was something he greatly desired to experience. Especially when it came to the trust and love Harry bestowed upon his closest friends, for that was one privilege that only those pure of heart earned.

Draco had been stunned to learn that Sirius Black had been killed, by his psychotic aunt no less, right in front of Potter, and his heart constricted as the image of the tormented, dejected Harry in his compartment from earlier. At the time, Draco had no idea just what exactly had caused Potter such grief given who he is and everything he’s been through. He had just assumed that Potter had finally become overwhelmed with it all. To hear that Harry had lost the only father he had ever known before his very eyes, explained everything he had felt leak through the compartment door.

All the grief, the sorrow, and the rage that had filtered through the door had touched Draco on every emotional level possible. He was well acquainted with the feelings flooding Potter’s veins; he had experienced every single one over the summer. However, instead of acknowledging them and healing himself from his own wounds, Draco had let them fester until they had turned toxic, mutating into concentrated hatred and vengeance.

He hoped, for Potter’s sake, that he didn’t make the same mistake. Then again, Potter was surrounded by people who would not allow that to happen; they cared about him too much. Draco had had no one, except for his mother, who had to first nurture her own wounds to find the strength to cleanse his. She had almost been too late.

Draco had done some inner soul searching on the train when he had tuned out his fellow Slytherins to keep himself from hexing them all, and he knew that whatever obstacles he would have to face this year, he would rise to meet them all with his head held high and dignity intact. He would show everyone that his father’s actions have not brought him down, but he would also show them that he had discovered his own life and freedom from his father’s incarceration, and that he now had his own goals and dreams; none of which had to do with Voldemort.

He would shock them all, and maybe, just maybe, make amends with those he had hurt most in the past. Perhaps, if the Fates were kind, he would finally find a way to prove to Potter he was not the evil bastard he believed him to be. As for his fellow Slytherins, while he no longer wished to have any true affiliations with those who were loyal to Voldemort, he also didn’t want to rile the anger of the rest of the house for breaking off ties with the most respected members of Slytherin. He knew the consequences of stirring a pile of cold blooded vipers. Draco would be nothing but civil to them, and hope they would extend the same courtesy on some level.

Shaking his head from his musings, Draco smirked as he checked his reflection in the window, turning his head from side to side and noting with satisfaction that every hair was still in place. He grinned as he thought of his mother. She had asked him to have a change of heart, but he was pretty sure that didn’t include a change in his style. Despite his family’s history and recent events, he was still damn proud to be a Malfoy, and he didn’t think he could ever stop living the luxurious lifestyle he had been accustomed to all these years. If one had the means to splurge on custom, hand tailored robes and accessories, then why not indulge yourself? He inwardly laughed as he pinned his silver, emerald eyed dragon brooch on his robes. While his views on many things had changed, he had in essence, not changed at all. He was still prideful and ambitious, and he was to a point almost narcissistic when it came to his appearance, but he was his own man now, and that was all that truly mattered. He would walk his own path in life no matter how difficult it proved to be, and he would look good doing it.

His good humor faded as he caught a glimpse of another reflection in the window, and he silently followed the dark, tousled head of ebony hair across the window until it disappeared from sight. Potter’s head had been bent down, an air of defeat crackling around him. Draco wondered just where his two companions were, realizing that neither one had been present when he had caught Potter open and unguarded in his grief.

With a frown, Draco quickly gathered his carry on bag from the seat, intent on following Potter until he was reunited with one of his companions, hopefully Granger, as he still could barely stomach the sight of that blasted Weasley. However, as soon as he stepped outside the compartment, he was once again assaulted by Pansy and her suffocating perfume as she pushed him back into the compartment.

“Draco, darling,” she cooed as she wrapped herself around his arm, leaving the door open. “You weren’t going to leave without me, were you? Surely you wouldn’t leave a lady unattended without a proper escort?”

Draco bit back a scathing retort as he gave her a dazzling smile, wanting very much to pull out the dark lock of hair he tucked behind her ear. “Now, now, my dear, as much as it pains me to say so, I’m afraid that you will have to find yourself another to escort you to the carriages. I have some pressing business that needs to be taken care of immediately.”

His stomach rolled as she pressed herself up against his body, her vile perfume stealing the very air from his lungs. “But of course,” she began, a feral, malicious smile on her face. “No doubt He has much planned for you to do now that your father is in Azkaban. Just remember, should you need anything at all, I will be more than happy to assist you.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you my dear, but my business is my own, and I will never have any business with Voldemort,” Draco smirked. “He has no more supporters in the Malfoy family, and if I have my way, there will never be another.”

“Draco, do not say such things!” Pansy cried as she grabbed his arm with both of her hands, causing him to drop his bag in surprise. “You’re speaking madness! To publicly scorn Him is considered traitorous! You’ll be killed for high treason if someone overhears you and reports back to Him!”

“I am not a traitor if my loyalty will forever be beyond his reach, Pansy,” Draco corrected, feeling a small amount of pity for his long time ally. “There is no one listening to us, and I know that you will never turn me in, no matter what rewards you would receive from doing so. There’s too much history between us Pans, and while we might not exactly be friends, I know we could be if we tried. But know that I will not associate myself with a supporter of Voldemort.”

“Draco please,” Pansy begged, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Please reconsider your position! We pure bloods must remain united! Our untainted lines are fading Draco, and He is helping us to remove the pollution. All He asks in return for this gift is our complete allegiance, a small price to pay for the cleansing of our kind!”

“His gift?!” Draco cried viciously as he tore his arm away from Pansy’s grasp. “His gift has been nothing more than death and madness, and you are a fool if you cannot see the truth of it! My family has followed him for generations, generations, Pansy, and they have all paid for their support with their minds or their lives; sometimes both. Each and every one of them lost their souls to him, and all the wealth that was acquired from their stupidity did nothing but lure in the next generation with the promise of more power and wealth, blinding them to the truth with that greed. But no more, do you hear me! No. More. He’s existing on borrowed time, and if you are smart, if you value your life, you will pull away also.”

“D-Draco,” Pansy stammered, tears spilling on her cheeks “what’s gotten into you?! Why are you willing to risk death and fight against him? This is madness! You are turning your back on our kind!”

“I care not if I die, Pansy,” Draco replied as he looked deep within her dark, troubled eyes. “If I die, then I die with my dignity intact. I will die proud, whether in an execution by his cursed wand, or on the battlefield. Will you be able to say the same thing, Pansy?” Draco asked, spearing her with molten, silver eyes. “As for turning my back on ‘our kind’, just what the hell does our kind stand for? We are all part of the Wizarding world no matter what blood runs through our veins, and trust me when I say that the truth had to be beaten into me.”

“I-I don’t know you anymore!” Pansy sobbed as she took a step back. “You’re not my Draco, the Draco who lived and breathed pure blood ethics, who stood proudly in the fight to save our kind!”

“That Draco is long gone Pansy,” Draco coolly informed her. “He was forced to see the error of his ways, and all those who support Voldemort, the moment the veil was ripped from his eyes and he finally saw the blood of innocents that stained Voldemort’s hands. That spoiled, greedy child grew up the very moment he understood what it truly meant to follow Voldemort. I am the man he has become, and I will walk my own path, alone if need be. I will do so with my head held high and redeem myself in the eyes of my peers, and those of my mother.”

Draco was unprepared as Pansy raised her hand and slapped him across the face, feeling his bottom lip split as it grazed one of his teeth. “Y-you’re an abomination! A traitorous heathen!” Pansy cried, a wild look in her dark eyes. “I should report you to Him myself! Maybe then you’ll think about what it is that you’re giving up!”

“Well then,” he smirked as he took out a black, silk handkerchief and briefly pressed it to his bleeding lip, “By all means, go and testify to what I have said, of who I now am, because I do not care. As I’ve said before, I don’t care if I die, because even in death, my heart, my soul, will still be mine.”

“Draco, please, please reconsider,” Pansy breathed as she stared at his bloody lip. “You’ll be shunned, an outcast who will have to live his life in exile if you get to live at all! Is that the future you want? Is that the life you want to live?”

“As long as I remain true to myself, then so be it,” Draco replied. “My question to you is: are you willing to eternally damn yourself and lose everything you are for the sake of blood?” He continued at her silence, “The world is changing*, Pansy, and it is inevitable that we must change with it. We need to embrace that future, or we will lose the battle against it and become extinct as a result.”

Draco watched as she closed her eyes and turned around, tightly gripping the door frame in her hand. “What has been said between us will remain between us,” she choked. “It is my hope that you will come to your senses soon, before unfriendly ears should catch wind of your lunacy.”

“It is my hope that you come to your senses soon, Pansy, lest you wither and fade away into the darkness of Voldemort’s madness,” Draco softly countered, and he watched with sad eyes as Pansy quickly fled the compartment, her tailored robes billowing behind her.

Draco sighed heavily as he dabbed at his lip before slipping the handkerchief back into his robe pocket. He picked up his bag from where it had fallen on the floor and smoothed out his robes before walking out. Potter was more than likely long gone by now, but if he hurried, he might catch a glimpse of him and make sure he was with at least one of his friends.

**

Ron, pale faced and shocked to the core, watched as Draco exited the compartment, a firm, determined look on his elegant face. He had sent Hermione ahead to the carriages with Neville while he came back and looked for Harry. He had just spotted Harry up ahead of him when he saw Parkison push Malfoy back into one of the compartments. At first glance, it looked as if they had some last minute attention to lavish on one another, but as he neared the door, he caught wind of their hushed but heated argument and decided to eavesdrop for any useful information. What he heard, however, had caught him completely off guard.

Never in his entire life had he ever imagined he would hear a Malfoy breathe the words that had come out of Draco’s mouth. His first instinct was to believe that the whole incident was nothing but a ploy in whatever Malfoy had planned for them this year, but the more that Malfoy spoke; the confidence and conviction in which he spoke them beat back that feeling until it was nothing but a whisper. The train was just about empty, and as far as Ron knew there was no one on the train except for Parkison, Malfoy and himself, so if it was an act, they were playing to an absent audience. Malfoy had to have seen Harry as he passed by, and there was no way he knew that Ron was still there.

The feeling of doubt had finally been silenced when he heard Pansy slap Draco, and Ron had slipped into the adjoining compartment then, knowing that the argument was more than likely coming to a conclusion. He had finished watching through the reflections in the window, and the lost, confused look on Pansy’s face when she had left was so deep and genuine that Ron had no choice but to believe that what had transpired between the two of them had been real.

Ron started as the final whistle sounded through the train, and he quickly made his way down the aisle and out of the train, needing to find Hermione and fill her in on what he had witnessed. He had thought she had lost her mind when she had recounted her encounter with Malfoy, but now, now he just wasn’t sure what to think anymore. As he made his way towards the awaiting carriages, Malfoy’s words echoed in his mind.

“The world is changing…”

**

Draco sighed in frustration as he made one last round around the carriages. He had found the carriage that Granger was riding in, but her only company had been Longbottom. He wondered just where the hell Potter and Weasley had slipped off to when he caught sight of the red haired Gryffindor rapidly making his way towards the carriages. Draco hadn’t realized he had been staring until a pair of dark blue eyes met his at a distance, and he was floored when Weasley gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before moving to the carriage that Granger and Longbottom occupied.

Shocked and bewildered by the small gesture, Draco had barely regained his senses when a loud, deep voice sounded in his ear. “You best be getting on board one of the carriages, Malfoy, if you want a ride to the castle.”

“Err, yes, I’m sorry,” Draco replied as he turned to look at Hagrid. “However, I’m afraid the carriages are all filled up, and I don’t think I would be welcomed in the ones that aren’t.”

“Yes, well, there’s an empty one in the very back of the line,” Hagrid pointed out hesitantly. “We’re taking off so you best get moving before you’re left behind.”

“Right then,” Draco sighed as he made his way to the carriage. It was eerily silent as he opened the door, and Draco couldn’t help but feel that he wasn’t alone. Shrugging off the feeling as nerves, he boarded the carriage, sitting beside the window. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he leaned back in the seat and willed his tension to go away. It had been an eventful day, and Draco had a feeling that the future held more days like this one; days that would test his strength. Turning his head to the side, he gazed out the window into the night sky. It would be another hour before they reached the castle, and the comforting light from the rising moon was just too lovely to ignore. Within a few minutes, Draco was fast asleep.

Harry watched silently from the seat across Malfoy. His heart had stopped in his chest the moment he had seen Malfoy’s face on the other side of the carriage door. He knew Hagrid had seen him sneak on the carriage with his cloak, and he had thought the giant would know that he wanted to be left alone. Apparently, he had thought wrong, seeing as he now had company. The question was: what had Hagrid been thinking when he let Malfoy board with Harry? Did Hagrid really have that much faith in him? To trust him enough to not make a scene with Malfoy spoke volumes on how much Hagrid thought of him. Of course, he knew Harry had his invisibility cloak, so maybe he figured Harry would just hide out until they reached the castle. Either way, Harry was now stuck in the carriage with Draco Malfoy, and there was nothing he could do but wait it out.

Malfoy seemed to be in a deep sleep, and Harry found himself drawn to the unguarded expression on his face. The moonlight shining in through the window caressed Malfoy’s pale skin, giving it an iridescent glow. Long lashes fluttered in slumber, catching rays of soft light that made the pale hairs glisten like sunlit snow. Harry followed the trail of long, platinum hair that framed Malfory’s face, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. Enchanted, Harry reached out a hand to tuck the strand of hair behind Malfoy’s ear…and caught himself before he did something stupid.

Breathing heavily, he clutched his chest, wondering what in the seven hells had possessed him. Had he really just wanted to touch Malfoy? Had he really just sat there and admired the face of his enemy? Malfoy was also the damn nephew of the woman who had murdered Sirius, the son of the man who had attempted to murder him more than once! Harry felt the world move from under him, and his stomach rolled upside down. He quickly covered his mouth, trying desperately to calm himself. His life was a complete mess. He was a complete mess. What had he ever done to deserve such torment? Nothing was what it seemed anymore. He didn’t know if anything would be right ever again.

~ TBC

* I so borrowed that from LoTR >.>