Warning! This story does contain slash. If you are unaware of what slash is or if it's just not something you have a care for, you probably clicked on the wrong link. Sorry. Life sucks, get a helmet. Anyway! Feedback and reviews are always appreciated and flames are mocked and the source of my endless amusement. All standard disclaimers apply. (What's mine is mine and what isn't, well, isn't.) This story contains spoilers for all four books. You have been warned.

The Losing Side

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Chapter One - Echoes of Fate

By Antenora

       

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day of Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this." He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. "Too late now, Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well- second- Diggory was the f--" Draco Malfoy (Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

       

"Master Draco, sir, Master Malfoy requests your presence in the library, sir."

Draco took his gaze from the ceiling above his bed, which he had enchanted to wave and dip with flames. With the lazy grace of a dangerous cat he rolled onto his side and cast a cold glance at the house elf that was cowering in his doorway. "Does he now? Will wonders never cease. You mean to say that I am permitted to leave the gilded cage?"

The house elf bit her lip, uncertain how to respond. Sony did not like coming to Master Draco's room. No, no, Sony didn't. Sony was more afraid of Master Draco then Sony was of Master Malfoy. Master Draco's anger was unpredictable and sudden, like the storms that sometimes thundered over the estate and frightened Sony and the other house elves. Ever since Master Malfoy had locked Master Draco in his room upon his return home from school, Master Draco had been in a terrible temper. He'd destroyed the expensive furnishings and the floor was covered with bits and pieces that Master Draco had not allowed Sony and the other house elves to clean up. He had thrown spells at them when other elves had come to serve his meals, usually causing them to flee with the trays and Master Malfoy had finally ended up having to take the trays of food to his imprisoned son himself. During the last week though, Master Draco had grown strangely quiet and that silence frightened Sony and the other house elves even more then his tantrums.

As if sensing the house elf's uncertainty, Draco waved his hand in dismissal. "I'll be along. Now go away."

Sony nodded quickly, "Thank you, Master Draco, sir. Sony will leave you now, Master Draco, sir." She left just as quickly as she had spoken, closing the door behind her was a hurried snap and hurrying away. Draco listened to her retreating footsteps till he could hear them no more and he was once more completely alone.

"Master Draco, sir, Master Malfoy requests your presence in the library, sir." Draco mimicked softly, a cold red rage filling him. "Master Malfoy requests so you had better hurry and leap about like a trained circus poodle. Master Malfoy... requests. That's a laugh. Master Malfoy demands, he doesn't request. Master Malfoy can go sod himself!" Draco hissed, snatching his wand from the table and muttering a few words which sent the nearest breakable object, a heavy wooden night stand, flying across the room to slam into the far wall, shattering it into a hundred heavy wooden pieces of firewood. A heavy trunk followed the night stand, scattering clothes and wood everywhere when it shattered. A lamp followed the trunk, glass littering the floor and making it dangerous for the barefoot and unwary.

Draco gave a quiet yell of frustration and flung his wand back on to the table, crashing back against his pillows. The room was an unholy mess, but Draco decided he rather liked it that way. The only things left intact now were the table on which his school books and wand rested, the bed on which he lay and the huge bureau which his father had purposely enchanted to stay firmly attached to the wall.

With a low growl and not feeling a bit better even for all the destruction he had just caused, Draco pushed himself up off the bed and stalked across the room. "Master Malfoy demands his son come to him." He murmured, his eye catching movement out of the corner of his eye. He veered towards the source the movement and came to a sudden stop in front of a gilded silver full-size mirror which was mounted near the door to his room. He'd tried breaking the mirror was or twice, but it simply refused to be broken. It was just as well, Draco supposed, as he took a quick account of his appearance.

He was tall, taller then he'd been the year before and his hair was longer, falling about his shoulders, straight and soft as silk to the touch. It had a silvery sheen to it, all trace of gold seemed to have been washed away, most likely by the lack of sunlight that he'd experienced during the long months of summer. His skin was pale, a bit paler then was usual even for him, it's perfect surface marred only by a light scar which curved along his cheekbone. A present he'd received from his father at the beginning of summer this year to make him look 'a bit more manly'. He hated it. Hated the way it would turn a sickly purple color when it got too cold in his room, which was often. The rest of their manor was hotter then the darkest pits of hell, but his room had always been kept colder then a meat locker.

Draco's reflection narrowed it's slate gray eyes as it starred back at Draco with distaste, almost as if it were silently cursing him for allowing his father to create the scar in the first place. Wouldn't completely surprise him if it were, very little in the Malfoy household was not under an enchantment or spell of one kind of another. Draco sighed, rubbing at the scar with a touch of annoyance. He had always been a bit vain about his appearance and perhaps his father had known that. Draco wasn't absolutely certain about that, but it wouldn't surprise him if his father hadn't scarred his face more to spite his ego then to make him appear 'more manly'. However, with the obvious exception of the scar, Draco knew he still looked pretty damn good, even dressed as he was in muggle clothes.

It was a bit strange, but he'd grown a bit of a secret love for leather pants and t-shirts from the bits he'd seen passing through the train station on the way to and from the Hogwarts Express. At the end of fourth year, he'd seen a dark-haired muggle boy wearing an outfit similar to the one he wore now and fallen in love with it. Skin tight black leather pants, a tight black shirt where the black seemed to ripple and flow as he moved and a belt with dangerous looking silver spikes. His father loathed such things. Hence the reason Draco smirked at his reflection and slammed out of his bedroom wearing it.

Having spent a childhood exploring Malfoy Manor top to bottom when his father hadn't been busy schooling him in the dark arts, Draco could have found his way to his father's expensive library blindfolded. It was easily his favorite room in the entire house and even though he'd been forbidden to enter it without his father's permission, Draco had found ways around the spells on the room and slipped in to the rooms many times in the dead of night to peruse the stacks upon stacks of book which populated the library. Of course, Lucius Malfoy didn't know that. He also didn't know that his son knew the house and it's tricks and traps better then the master himself. And he would probably never know that Draco had set a few of his own traps here and there over the last few years since the Dark Lord's return.

When he arrived in the library, Draco found his father sitting behind his huge oak desk rapping his long, elegant fingers against the desktop impatiently. Of course, Lucius Malfoy was always impatient and had been for as long as Draco could remember. He was a tall man in his early forties, though he looked not a day over thirty. There wasn't a touch of gray visible atop his blond head and Draco was certain there never would be. Lucius was, after all, probably even more vain about his appearance then Draco had ever been. He was dressed in his best robes and immaculately groomed no matter the occasion. This day was no exception. Lucius Malfoy took in his only son's attire with a look of obvious disdain before turning his piercing gaze on the boy himself. "Certainly took your sweet time coming down here, didn't you?"

Draco smirked, "Sorry, Father, I was tiding up upstairs. Didn't want the place to be a shambles when I leave for Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I'm sure." Lucius responded with a shake of his head, glancing down at a neat stack of papers on his desk. When he raised his head once more, a sly smile had curved his lips. "I suppose you're looking forward to this upcoming year at Hogwarts?"

"How thoughtful of you to ask, Father. I am indeed looking forward to starting school again." Draco's smirk faded a bit as a sense of foreboding settled over him. He knew that smile. He'd learned all about that smile at a frightfully early age. That was the smile that almost always served as a prelude to pain and despair.

"Good. I trust you'll somehow manage to fumble your way through this year as you have the others. It is a tad disappointing to both your mother and I that you weren't able to make prefect. However, I suppose it's probably for the best. I don't want anything to distract you from your purpose at Hogwarts. From the only reason I permitted you to attend that loathsome school in the first place. I wouldn't wish for you to ruin my plans in this late stage of the game." Lucius' smile widened as his son's smirk failed and faded away completely.

Draco's stomach tightened involuntarily. How he loathed Harry Potter at moments like these. If the little bastard had just died in his cradle how different things might have been. "I wouldn't dream of it, Father."

"Well answered, son." Lucius purred, standing and crossing the room to stand in front of his son. He towered over the boy who had become so critical to his plans the moment the Dark Lord had fallen to the power of an infant, yet the boy still starred up at him with defiance in his eyes. Draco did indeed resemble him greatly, even if the boy's appearance was a bit more effeminate then Lucius would have liked. As Draco had grown he'd gone from being a handsome boy to an almost pretty teenager and such a change would only bring him trouble. However, the scar seemed to give him a bit of much needed character. Smiling softly, Lucius lifted a hand from his side and stroked his fingers across his son's pale cheek, tracing the line of the scar he had bestowed upon him only three months before. Certainly, Draco hated him for this little improvement to his appearance, but it couldn't be helped. He knew what was best for his son. The best way to protect him and keep him safe was to make sure he was tough enough to face the times ahead. Nevermind that Draco would most likely hate him until the day he died. This was the way it had to be.

Draco tolerated this interlude in perfect silence; not flinching from his father's touch even while something inside him screamed and hatred bubbled within his heart and soul. His fingernails ground into his palms as they had done from the moment Lucius had stood and walked from his desk. Blood oozed from the wounds created by those fingernails and slipped across Draco's pale skin, dripping unnoticed onto the white plush carpet on which they stood. Only when Lucius' hand dropped once more to his side did Draco move, drawing away from his father quickly and taking a step backwards. He summoned all the hatred he felt into his gaze and glared at his father, his eyes growing an icy blue as his father gave a quiet laugh.

"You are indeed my son." He murmured, turning his back on said son and returning to his desk. "You may return to your room. Remain there until I summon you tomorrow morning."

"Yes... Father." Draco hissed, backing out of the room slowly. When he was clear of the library, Draco forced his hands to unclench and shook the blood from his fingertips before turning to go upstairs. He was only surprised to find his mother standing, silent and cold as statue, near the bottom of the stairway. She starred at her son coldly for a long moment and he returned the look, just as coldly. She had not set eyes upon him since the summer after his fourth year at Hogwarts. They were mother and son, but they never spoke of love or even affection. Father would never have allowed it. Love was for the weak after all and the weak must be destroyed. However, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy still got on fairly well together, mainly because of their mutual hatred for Lucius. Hatred could bond two people together as surely as love it would seem.

"You should be grateful to your father for giving you such a beautiful gift." Narcissa breathed finally, breaking the silence between them and lifting a cool finger to trace the air near her son's cheek. She never quite touched him. She hadn't in years. Not that Draco really minded. He rather hated being touched.

"I was going to send him a thank you card when I get back to Hogwarts." Draco murmured, his voice leaden with sarcasm. Narcissa Malfoy smiled a bit at this and Draco found himself smiling back.

"Be sure you do and do make sure it's a howler." Narcissa responded, dropping her hand back to her side. "I will be taking you to the train station myself tomorrow morning."

A surprised bark of laughter escaped Draco's lips and he nodded quickly. "I'd like that... Mother."

Narcissa nodded, motioning for Draco to go upstairs as she turned and disappeared down the downstairs hall. Draco starred after her for a long moment, wondering a bit at this sudden development. His mother never went with him to the train station. He'd always had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn't allowed. However, it would be a nice change. The only bright spot in an otherwise dismal summer.

It was dark when Draco finally reached his room, the fire enchantment he'd put of the ceiling having long since gone out. Still, he rather liked the darkness which settled about him as he closed and locked his door behind him. It suited his mood rather perfectly. It usually did. Smirking a bit at that thought, Draco waded through the darkness to his bed and shed his clothes quickly before climbing under the covers. He'd started sleeping in the buff when he was home when he was fourteen. He'd discovered it made the house elves far more reluctant to bust in on him, no matter what his father's orders were.

His hands ached terribly and Draco debated using a spell to heal them before deciding against it. Instead he curled them into his sheets, hoping vaguely that that would be sufficient to staunch the blood he could still feel seeping from the small wounds. It hurt desperately, but Draco knew there were far worse things then a bit of physical pain. Like what the Dark Lord had planned for Harry Potter. Yes, that was certainly worse. He almost felt a bit sorry for the-boy-who-lived, or at least he would have if he hadn't hated him quite as much as he did.

Draco frowned as thoughts of the illustrious Harry Potter came back with a vengeance. Filling his head and feeding his anger now that he was alone and free of his father's presence. It wasn't just his father's plots which made him despise Harry, he reflected dismally. No, to be completely honest, he'd actually been certain when he was young and naive that he would quite like the boy his father hated with such a passion. When he'd seen the boy in the robe-maker's shop just before their first year of Hogwarts, even before he realized who he was, he'd been instinctively drawn to the dark-haired boy.

He remembered exactly how he'd looked that day. All knobby knees, tousled and utterly untamable black hair which completely obsured the lighting bolt shaped scar upon his pale forehead and those huge emerald eyes partially hidden behind mishappen glasses. He'd been dressed in muggle clothes, which looked about five sizes too big for him. Though Draco hated words such as 'cute' or 'adorable' he'd found those were the only words he could think of to describe Harry. He'd liked him instinctively and had immediately begun running off at the mouth in an attempt to impress him. All the time thinking of how much he was going to enjoy being friends with this adorable boy.

Then Harry had ruined it by opening his mouth.

He'd so easily shut down Draco's attempts to impress him. He'd instead begun ranting on about the wonderful Hagrid. That had been a minor annoyance.

But annoyances aside, Draco had still held a hope that he and and the boy could be friends. It had only been better when he'd discovered that the black-haired boy from the robe shop was actually the legendary Harry Potter. But then Harry had insisted on becoming the Weasel's friend. He had practically laughed in Draco's face at the offer of friendship. That had been unforgivable. Draco had never once had someone turn down an offer of friendship, much less laugh at him. That was when the real hatred had sprouted within him. His father's schemes had only served to fan the flames already burning within him. Then fourth year had come round and there had been the tri-wizard tournament and Cedric... and the Dark Lord's return....

No.

He didn't want to think about that now. Didn't want to think about his father's cautious joy at his lord's miraculous return to power. Didn't want to think of how he'd hidden himself away and watched them that summer. Of what he'd seen at the end of fourth year and afterwards. Certainly he didn't want to think of his punishment when he was caught spying on them at the beginning of that summer. An involuntary shudder shook his slim body and he pulled his blankets tighter about him to try and shut out a cold which came from deep within his soul. No, he couldn't think about any of that now. Better to focus on his hatred. Hatred was simple and so very easy. He didn't have to dwell on the reasons, just on the feeling. He felt the comforting warmth of anger sweep through him and smiled inwardly.

Swallowing hard against the lump that had begun to form in his throat, Draco pulled his blankets over his head and burrowed down into their warmth. He could sleep now. Could ignore the darkness and the memories. Draco fell into an uneasy sleep, his thoughts drowsy as he slipped into sweet dreams of being far away from Malfoy Manor. Far away from everything he'd ever known. Nothing mattered in those dreams, nothing bothered him there.

There it didn't matter that he knew firsthand the destruction Voldemort was planning to cause this year.

There it didn't even matter that this was the year Harry Potter was going to die, once and for all.

~to be continued~

Author's Notes:
Well, it's finally done. *rejoices* I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, it was a bitch to write for some reason. *sigh* In fact, it was actually something totally different when I started and finished the first draft, but tonight I had a fit of inspiration and here we are. The next chapter should come along a lot faster, hopefully. I want to thank everyone who reviewed: Rashelana Lupin (I'm glad you liked it), Sandra Solaria Dees, Rubicon (Thanks so much! I checked and corrected the typos. I'm pretty sure I got them all.), Celeste, Ari, Lady Ash, Raquel Lily (I believe you ^_^), Jessica (Thank you so much! I appreciate your words! ^_^), and shinji (Thanks much!). A special thanks to Domino Nermandi... I laughed for about ten minutes after I read your review. You are fabulous! ^_^
Thanks so much everyone. I'll keep writing this one, I hope you all keep reading.

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