Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any shape or form.
A/N:This is my attempt at a multi-chaptered HP fic. Review and tell me what you think, what I might need to improve on, etc.
You belong to me
My snow white queen
There's nowhere to run, so lets just get it over
Soon I know you'll see
You're just like me
Don't scream anymore my love, cause all I want is you
Snow White Queen, Evanescence
Year of 1995, fifth year of many of those who started their journey to Hogwarts in 1991. It was a year of joy for there were many who were anticipating the quidditch games they had been denied the previous year due to the Triwizard tournament. Platform 9 ¾ was a crowd of excited children ranging from the age 11 to 18. Most were giving their good-bye to their parents or meeting up with their friends, or, if you were a Slytherin, were standing aloof with a holier-than-thou air. There was an exception; one young man at the tender age of 15, a crucial age for most growing teens, was standing before his parents as though he was standing at the doors of Azkaban guided by dementors. It didn't show in his face of course, his face was masked by indifference, but one could tell by his stature.
Draco Malfoy didn't expected much from his parents when it came to a heartfelt good-bye, his mother perhaps if they were alone, but never his father who saw him as nothing but something to continue the pureblood line of the Malfoy's. So to those unaware of the truth between Draco and his parents, they looked like the perfect family. No one noticed the tense, cold air surrounding them.
"I expect that there will be no trouble this year, Draco?" His father's voice sliced through him like a cold knife.
"Of course, father," Draco replied, bowing his head slightly.
With that simple statement, Lucius made his leave, his dark cape billowing behind him. Narcissa was a bit more hesitate, glancing over her son as though taking a mental imagine of him before taking her leave as well. The tension in Draco's body noticeably relaxed but the boy still appeared on edge as he always did after a direct meeting with his father. During the summer he was home Draco tended to avoid his father and stick to his mother's side. He could count on one hand the number of time he had spoken directly to his father that year.
Now he was alone, which he usually preferred, at the moment. Once he boarded the train he would seek out his usual Slytherin companions. However, the train wasn't due to leave for another 15 minutes. So what was a young Slytherin supposed to do with his time? Why, hide in the shadows and observe of course. Observation was a little known habit of his, it was bloody useful though, he found out much from simply watching and not speaking. Within his line of vision he fell upon several students and their parents, he scowled in disgust, new students, again a scowl, a few obvious Slytherins, at this he smirked. It was like watching a play where he could almost predict what was going to happen.
He hated these people. If one asked what he did not hate, the list would be very short. He was an angry boy with a boiling hatred for his father, with his cruel way of upbringing, his so-called 'friends' who used him merely as a way to obtain some status, his entire existence seemed to be a joke to a higher power, and that damned Harry Potter. The golden boy wonder, how he wished he could stomp his foot into the boy's face shattering the glasses that perched upon his nose. He was the bane of his very existence and couldn't wait for the day when he could crush him.
Falling deeper into his dark thoughts, he was only roused by a familar face. Familar from his side to be exact. Tall with mocha skin, toned in almost every place possible with a face most women would die for and most men wanted, complete with full lips, enchanting eyes, and dark hair like the wind curling just below the breast. Yes, he knew this creature well. She was a pureblood thus high among wizard rankings. Her name was Angelina Johnson and he hated her with a passion. She was a useless bitch who did not but entralled the men around her to fall about themselves like idiots, himself included. He supposed that wasn't fair, in her defense she did not want to attract the opposite sex, it just happened but he had to make it her faul to make himself feel bettert. It was her fault he was like this. A little boy standing in the shadows too afraid to approach her. Seeing her lips curl into that smile directed towards another made him want to rip them off, her voice falling upon unworthy ears made him want to capture her voice and never release it.
Yes, to Draco, Angelina was the bitch. The vixen that managed to capture his interest but refused to fall over herself at his feet for his attention. How dare she. She should feel honored to have his interest. Then again, she did not know and even if she did he doubted she would care and would laugh at the mere mention of her falling upon herself to his feet. That was another reason he hated her, if she was a Slytherin the idea wouldn't have been as far fetched, but she was a blasted Gryffindor and didn't regard him as highly as his fellow Slytherins did. To make matters worse she was associated with the Weasels. Yes, they too were pureblood but they were traitors. She held so much more worth than those miserable fools.
She had gone to the Yule ball with one of those Weasels. She had looked quite ravishing her dress robes, enough to make heads turn. He couldn't help but think how well she would fit by his side walking down a grand stairway in a room full of pureblood who looked upon them with envy. He had been looking upon her with hate that night. It should have been him she was dancing with sharing her laughter and smile, not that pathetic excuse for a wizard. He didn't know which Weasel it was, there were two of them afterall but frankly he didn't care. He wanted to hex the older boy for touching what was his. However, she wasn't his was she? Not exactly. Perhaps in his thoughts but never in reality. It didn't stop him from mentally making the claim upon her.
Perhaps he would tell his father about this pureblood witch. Surely his father would find this of some interest and do some reasearch on her background where he would things that pleased him. Then he would speak to her parents and possibly arrange a marriage between them. Of course this would never work, but it was fun to think about. No, he would capture her on his own of her own free will. Breaking her spirit on her own accord would be a sweet taste of victory after the countless hours he wasted musing about her.
My, had 15 minutes really passed by so quickly. It must have for they were urging everyone to enter the train with haste. Before he emerged from the shadows he saw something that caused his hand to curl around his wand and grip it tightly. His Angelina, his, was being picked up and spun around by a familar red head before being settled back onto the ground and resting in his arms. He wanted to blast the older boy's arms off and wipe that smile of her face. How dare they? Did they not know of his claim? No, they did not, but they would.
He would make her beg to be his. She would plead at his feet to have him bestow upon her just once kiss. He would make her cry out his name, his, and no other and weep when he left her alone and cold. For she would be his to do what he pleased, no matter how poorly he treated her, he would make sure she kept crawling back like a loyal dog. A pitiful bitch begging for his attention. All was easier said then done as it usually is, while he knew that would be her fate, he also knew that it would take time and careful manipulation. She was not as easy to attack psychologically like Potter, she was far more calm and rational.
There was something else bothering him, he would think as he entered the train strutting down to a compartment searching for his fellow Slytherins, who was this red headed boy who touched his Angelina so intimately? It would be one of the things he did this year,find out every single detail about this pathetic Weasel he knew nothing about with the exception that he was a Weasley. If those two thought there was something between them, he would show them how easily it would fall apart unlike his love and hate for his dear Angelina, she would see that she was his alone and that would not change. His feelings were not a fragile thing that would break so easily under the influence of others, but that thing, whatever it was that she had with that Weasel, he would show her how weak it was.
A smirk curled upon his handsome features, it's cause unknown to those in the compartment he had just opened and entered. Afterall, what would those fools know about it. They would know soon enough, everyone would know soon enough.
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