Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A Very Different Year

It had been a very different day for Hogwarts.

All of the changes were to be expected, though, mused Draco Malfoy that evening at around midnight while wandering the corridors aimlessly. The Carrows working here – well Snape was Headmaster, what did anyone expect? He'd have Aurors as professors? He wouldn't admit it to anyone in the entire world, but he wasn't happy about all the changes Hogwarts had experienced over the summer. Well, Snape as Headmaster was fine, he supposed, but the Carrows were unnecessary. They just proved Voldemort was in complete control of the entire world. Not that everybody didn't already know that.

Things had gotten out of control. Way out of control. It was far too late to just say no to his father; to say no to all of the terrible things he'd been asked to do recently. Because the ugly mark on his left forearm mocked him, reminding him that he didn't have a choice, that there never had been a choice. This school, so unlike Hogwarts now after its changes, was the way he was supposed to think things should be run, was supposed to be something he enjoyed. He'd get the preferential treatment, after all. He was supposed to be happy.

He snorted.

Happiness was the last thing he was feeling right now. The train ride had been unbearable enough. His mother was the only one there to say goodbye at the Platform, real tears in her eyes. He knew that she hated this as much as he did. His father was attending to business, which meant Death Eater activities. Besides, they would see each other before Christmas break. Draco would now need to be present at the meetings.

His life was horrible.

He had never expected to think that. He was a Malfoy, he deserved the best and he always got it. He had been raised to sneer at others and be arrogant and superior. He had been taught to think he was the best. But his life had taken a dramatic turn in the past year, an expected yet terrifying turn. He knew at some point this would occur, that his father would want him to follow in his footsteps. He hadn't expected it a year ago, however, when he was only sixteen, not even an adult. He hadn't expected his mother's silence; he thought she would stand up for him. Though, he had realized later, that she might not have even known that he hadn't wanted that. He'd hardly known himself.

She knew now.

He was sure a lot of the Death Eaters didn't think much of him, of how he cowered in fear before having to curse someone. He wasn't a murderer, not yet. He wanted so badly to refuse all of this, but he didn't know how. He would be killed if he did that, and if he didn't some innocent person would be. He felt really sick a lot lately. But that was normal.

He wished, foolishly, that he had said no, that he had been brave enough to face his father's wrath. He knew it was a stupid and irrational dream, and dangerous as Occlumency was not fool proof. But he wished he wasn't part of this and didn't have these problems. But he couldn't take it back, any of it, no matter how much he longed to. He couldn't take back how he had vowed to stay with this for life, his voice cracking at the words – whether from fear or sadness, he didn't know. He couldn't take back the pain as the mark was scorched onto his arm. He couldn't take back the fact that he had tortured people, that he was in on the most secretive plans in the world – plans of destruction, demolition, pain, and power. Unlimited power.

He'd never really known what he wanted to be when he grew up. It wasn't something he'd considered. When he was younger he would have wanted to be like his father, strong, rich, and admired. But now that he knew why he was strong, rich, and admired, he really didn't want that lifestyle. But he didn't know what he did want either. Not that there was any reason to consider it; he had no choice anymore. His future was set. There was no turning back.

It still upset him that Hogwarts was different. He thought this was a place where all the terrors, all of the Death Eater things couldn't touch him. He thought this was just a school, a home more than anything. A place where he belonged.

But it had been infiltrated, too. He felt a throb of fear just looking at the teacher's table, seeing them there. The Carrows. Having seen them on many other unpleasant occasions. Like sitting in the dining room of Malfoy Manor, worshiping Voldemort. Their master.

The train ride had sucked. He had had to pretend that he was just thrilled with the changes Hogwarts was going through, that was what was expected of him. And he'd had to listen to Pansy talk eagerly about it (and him, a topic he deliberately avoided with her) all train ride. All the Slytherins were overjoyed at the prospect of Snape as Headmaster, and the Carrows as professors. Especially for Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies. They knew that these classes would be taught right, according to them. He couldn't believe he'd ever listened to any of them, that he'd been like that once. They should make every Slytherin who thinks that life is great, that pureblood conquers all, into a Death Eater. Then they'll care about people, care about doing what's right, he thought to himself. Because he was completely cured, he cared too much now. And it was a dangerous time to care.

Maybe that was why what happened that year, happened. Maybe that was why when he randomly strolled up the steps of the Astronomy Tower and found her at the top, he didn't call the Carrows to deal with her. Maybe he was getting soft. Maybe it didn't matter.

He had just wanted fresh air, and the Astronomy Tower was nearby, so he headed towards it. There was no way he'd get in trouble. Snape or the Carrows would never punish him. And the other teachers knew the punishment – the Cruciatus Curse. And they didn't want that for their students, not even him. The worst he'd get was a detention if he saw one of them. And they likely weren't out anyways, it was only the first night at school, nobody risked getting into trouble so early. But he couldn't sleep.

He didn't know what to do when he saw her standing there, the Gryffindor Weaslette. He didn't really have much against her, now that he was suddenly caring. It was just that she was a Weasley – dirt poor and red haired – and a Gryffindor, which pretty much amounted to the same thing. If you were a Weasley, you were a Gryffindor. Just like if you were a Malfoy, you were a Slytherin, he remembered with a jolt. But he didn't know how to deal with her presence. He had wanted to be alone.

"Weasley.'

She didn't turn to look at him, just stared at the stars, but he thought he saw her eyes narrow infinitesimally. "Malfoy."

He didn't know what to say to her. "The Carrows will Crucio you to within an inch of your life if they find you here, you know." Somehow his voice didn't sound the same to him, it was mocking, but not cruel. He wasn't really trying to be mean. Maybe she knew that, because her voice sounded gentler when she spoke, losing the small edge it had held before. "I don't particularly care."

There was a pause then. It wasn't really awkward; it was just that they didn't have anything to say to each other. Finally, not knowing why he asked her, "What are you thinking about?"

She didn't look at him, just gazed at the stars as she replied. "I'm contemplating suicide."

He gaped at her for a moment wordlessly. Although he knew suicide was not unheard of, seeing as he'd considered it quite often himself, it filled him with horror to just think about her throwing herself off the tower. This tower, where someone had died just last spring. A murder he'd almost been responsible for. That body, too, had been thrown unceremoniously off the tower.

He didn't understand why she would even consider it though. What was so terrible about her life? She wasn't being told to torture and kill people. She wasn't forced into a dark, horrible life she'd never chosen. She didn't have nightmares every night about the demons that were about to take over the world. She wasn't a Death Eater. She wasn't him.

"WHAT?!" He very nearly screamed when his voice returned. She still didn't turn, unsurprised by his reaction. "What the hell are you thinking? Are you mad? Why would you want to kill yourself?"

She finally turned to look at him acidly. Her voice was like ice. "Think hard enough and I'm sure you'll come up with something."

He just stared at her. She sighed and resumed staring at the stars. "I'm sure you've considered suicide once or twice, Malfoy, your life isn't exactly pleasant either."

He was shocked that she could guess his thoughts, but replied anyways. "That doesn't matter. You shouldn't even think of this. And I have … reasons… why I would think about it. You don't know a thing about my life."

She gave a Slytherin worthy smirk. "I can guess."

He didn't question her on that. "Why are you thinking about suicide, then?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't have to answer to you."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't then, Weasley. See if I care."

"If you don't care, then why did you ask me in the first place?"

He froze for a moment and then whispered. "I don't know."

Their eyes met and she couldn't breathe for a second before she gave her response. "Great. When you figure it out, find me." It would have sounded better if her breathing wasn't somewhat irregular. But she didn't seem to care, because on that note, she turned on her heel and left the tower.