Emerald (Lazuli Book #2) Harry Potter Fan Fiction (Draco Malfoy)

Chapter Sixteen - The Unworthy Boy

I thought I'd try something new and write this chapter from Draco's point of view! Of course, all of you guys know what he's up to and his reasons for doing it, but Juliet doesn't, and so I've been making Draco (quite unfairly) look like the villain. So I thought I'd write a chapter as Draco and perhaps gain him back some fans again.

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Draco cursed under his breathe as his eagle owl come soaring into sight, it's majestic wings long and proud as it caught sight of him and dove. He'd been hoping that he'd have a few days of peace after sending the letter to his aunt, that the owl would know to fly slowly. He'd clearly been wrong, because the owl landed easily on a branch outside the window, a black letter in it's beak.

Draco sighed as he set down his wand on the floor of the tree-house and stood up, running a hand through his messy, dishevelled hair. The bird shivered from the cold that Draco was barely noticing, despite the December snow falling outside.

He wondered if he could throw the letter into the small fire that was burning in mid air, and claim to his aunt that he'd never received it. Of course he couldn't - Bellatrix Lestrange was a powerful witch that had probably enchanted the damned letter to fly back out of the flames and slap him in the face. She was that sort of woman.

He reluctantly took the letter from the owl's beak and tossed a dead rat that he'd found resting in the corner of his tree-house. The owl hooted appreciatively as it snatched the rat and soared off to enjoy it in peace, away from Draco's weary sighs.

Great, even his owl didn't want to be around him.

Life had been tough for Draco recently, and nobody seemed to care. His father was in Azkaban, although this wasn't the worst thing that had happened, considering that Draco despised his father. It was Lucius' fault that Draco was in this mess right now. He'd had no choice but to return to Hogwarts and leave his mother, who was missing Lucius, with his vile aunt and the various other Death Eater's now residing in his home. He'd been given this ridiculous mission by the Dark Lord himself, threatened with the torture and deaths of everybody he cared about should he fail. And now Juliet was angry with him too, because he'd been so busy with trying to make this tree-house nice for her that he'd completely forgotten about Sophia's plan to make Juliet play in the Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

Draco gazed around the tree-house. In the time that he wasn't spending trying to repair that stupid cabinet, he'd been working in the tree-house. Juliet always used to talk about how she wanted to run away and move into the tree-house with him - if he succeeded in his mission and the Dark Lord lived up to his promise of letting them go free, then they could. He'd spent hours in the library, pouring over house-keeping and repair spells. He'd earned peculiar looks from Madam Pince when he'd taken them out, and then had worked exceptionally hard to put them to use. But it had worked - the tree-house now had two floors, built on invisible stilts that were unbreakable. He'd spent hours mending the roof, which was now water-tight and kept out the wind. He'd even transfigured a stick into a broom, sweeping the dirt and leaves off the newly fixed wooden floorboards, something that he'd had immense difficulty with seeing as he'd never done any chores throughout his life. The tree-house was far from done, but he was excited to show Juliet what he'd already managed. Perhaps she would forgive him if he did.

Or maybe she wouldn't. She'd looked terribly hurt a few weeks ago, when she'd declined his offer to come and see the tree-house. Who'd have known that him being at the match would have meant that much to her?

"You should have done idot," Draco hissed to himself, "you're her boyfriend!"

Remembering the letter in his hands, he sighed and pulled on his coat that he'd hung from the peg he'd nailed into the wall. He didn't want to open the letter here, in case it had some sort of tracking device. He didn't want anyone in his family, in fact anyone but Juliet, knowing about their secret place.