The Deceit Of A Lifetime

Draco Malfoy was a very proper young man, trained in the most historic and honored customs of the wizarding world. He dressed impeccably, and was the most well-mannered child anyone had ever met. It was as a result of his skills and confidence in his physical beauty that he knew very well that he was a class above everyone else.

He was looking down at the notice in his hands, indicating that the Hogwarts’ schedule had been modified, and that he was due to report to Platform 9 ¾ tomorrow morning, to return to the school for his sixth year. He just sat in the chair, his father, the aristocratic and loyal Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, pacing the room a few feet from him.

“This is unexpected,” said the elder Malfoy, eventually breaking the silence.

“Not really,” replied Draco. He saw the glare from his father, and chose to ignore it. “Dumbledore coddles that bloody Potter. You should have expected him to be brought back to Hogwarts when you let your little ‘plan’ slip.”

“That was expected,” Lucius replied. “However, I did not anticipate him bringing the entire school back to Hogwarts with him.”

Draco laughed haughtily, genuinely surprised that, for the first time in Draco’s life, his father appeared to have not anticipated something. It was very out of character for his father, and he wondered just exactly what was going on. He filed the suspicions away in his mind, however, determined to examine them further later.

“It shouldn’t have any effect on the objective at hand,” Draco replied. He met his father’s gaze. “I have no doubt Voldemort can still accomplish his goal. The plan was to reach its head at Hogwarts anyways.”

Lucius merely nodded to his son. “Your things have been prepared by the house elves. Your mother will see you off to Kings Cross tomorrow, as I will not be here,” he replied.

Draco feigned a hurt look, but really had come to expect his father not to accompany him to the train station any more. He hadn’t done it since Draco’s second year at Hogwarts. “Very well,” Draco replied neutrally.

He watched his father retreat from the room, slamming Draco’s bedroom door behind him. “Finally, I’ll get my revenge on you for five years of misery,” Draco said to himself as he stood up, walking to the mirror on his wall and straightening his outfit. Once satisfied, he walked out of the bedroom and headed for his father’s office.

Once inside, however, he was mildly surprised to see Lucius standing near the fire, taking a drink of what appeared to be strong brandy. He hid his reaction well, however, as he forced an inquisitive expression onto his face. “Father?” he asked.

Lucius turned, acknowledging the boy only for a moment before returning his gaze to the fire. “When this plan comes to fruition, Draco,” he began, his voice wavering slightly, “you will keep your head down and stay out of it. I do not want you being hurt in the crossfire. Is that clear?” Lucius hissed.

“Yes, father,” said Draco immediately, even though he had no intention of doing any such thing. He wanted to be there when Potter suffered for what he had done to him.

“Excellent,” Lucius said again. He waved his hand dismissively at his son. “Leave me. I am expecting our Lord very shortly, and I do not want you present when he arrives. Prepare to return to Hogwarts.”

Draco merely nodded and left the room. As he headed back to his own bedroom, on the far side of the manor, Draco couldn’t help but grinning to himself. Thoughts of revenge on his arch nemesis were flooding through his mind, and to the young Draco Malfoy, the scenes playing in his head were nearly orgasmic in their intensity.

“You will pay, Potter,” he said under his breath as he finally reached his room, retreating into it and closing the door behind him.