Thread: Not All Slytherins Are Evil (LadyAthene & The Gothic Temptress's 1x1)

It was only the first of September, but the pale, overcast morning already seemed suited to deepest autumn. The Wiltshire countryside was molted brown and bronze as the trees changed, their branches already half-bare, and the sun which seemed to grow weaker with each passing day, barely brightened its corner of sky. It was approaching nine o'clock in the morning, but a fine mist still hung in the colder of the narrow lanes. Against the white sky, the sharp Gothic towers of Malfoy Manor rose like needles. A solitary figure stood observing outside the imposing iron-wrought gates. The figure was tall and lean with hints of muscles beneath the exquisite robes he donned, evidently a male, and stood with an apprehensive stance. His face was pale and slightly pointed, but it only served to complement his strong bone structure beneath the translucent skin. His champagne coloured hair was slicked back with precision. A large trunk, emblazoned with what appeared as a snake, stood by his side. A soft pop sounded beside him - though he scarcely showed any reaction - and another figure appeared out of nowhere. This one was tall and slim with a fine sheet of white-blonde hair. She too was dressed expensive robes. Draco, She called out in a low, mellifluous voice, are you ready, my son? Draco shifted his icy-blue eyes from the Manor to his mother who approached him with a tentative smile. Her hair, which was always smooth and secured in a neat bun, was now twisted into a hasty plait with tendrils running down her face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were red and puffy. Yet she looked at him with adoration and care, seemingly oblivious to her state of callousness. Where were you this whole morning, Mother? Draco said dryly as he picked up his trunk and looped his arm with his mother's. Narcissa Malfoy was caught off guard by his question and looked down with the knowledge that her son wouldn't appreciate her act of worry. I had been to Severus' house. She replied quietly. Looking at her son, she was filled with dread. Was it only yesterday when he assigned his doomed task? It felt like ages had passed since. Her only consolation was that she had Severus make that oath, which would compel him to ensure her only child's security. Draco frowned in suspicion yet he kept his mouth shut. What his mother did in her spare time was none of his business. He had learnt his lesson young. Throwing a last look at the Manor he let Narcissa apparate them both to King's Cross. The platform was full of excited faces and loud farewells, everyone happy and excited for a new year, new possibilities. But the only thing Draco Malfoy felt was sickening dread for his impossible task, for the year, for everything that would entail after he climbed that train. Yet he had no other option. Even death would not come to his help easily. A gentle hand stroked his cheek requesting his attention. He looked down at his mother who had tears in her eyes. His heart wrenched painfully but he showed no signs of emotion, his face remained a mask of careless interest. Draco dear, if you feel like quitting anytime, please don't hesitate. Come back to me, I shall send you to your cousins in Ameri- She started, her voice quivering with tension, but Draco stopped her by placing his hand over hers which rested on his pale cheek. Mother, you know I can't. We already had this talk and I still stand by my decisions. He spoke firmly, leaving no room for arguments. Narcissa looked like she was about to say something but decided against it and hugged her son, possibly for the last time. Professing her love for him in quiet words, she departed, tears streaming down her cheeks in wild abandon. Heaving an ancient sigh, Draco levitated his trunk and made his way inside the train searching for an empty compartment. He found one, carefully placed his trunk above and ensconced his tall stature into the chairs. He sat with exceptional posture, with his chin propped upon one hand on the window ledge and the other casually playing with the fine material of his robes. At sixteen, Draco Malfoy resembled a beautiful man. A beautiful yet tortured man.