Home To You (a Draco Malfoy Love Story)

Crossing State Lines

It was approaching midnight, but Draco couldn't sleep. The start of his sixth year at Hogwarts was the last thing on his mind as he paced the castle halls. The next morning, he would begin his penultimate year at Hogwarts, but the normal sixth year activities like studying for NEWTs, winning the Quidditch Cup and spending time with friends were low on the priority list. Instead, this would be the year he had to kill his headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

He'd been skating along on the periphery of the Death Eaters since getting his Dark Mark and official induction during the summertime. Although both he and his father had tried to prolong the process, it couldn't wait any longer. The Dark Lord was beginning to doubt the loyalty of the Malfoy family, which could not be tolerated. And so, without his true consent, he had been marked - for life - as a Death Eater. Now, only a few short months later, the Dark Lord had given him an assignment that made Draco sick to his stomach. He had bragged to his friends on the train about how the Dark Lord had entrusted him with a big task - and broken Harry Potter's nose - in order to maintain the alpha status he felt he must maintain. Otherwise, the other Slytherins would see him for what he was - a fraud, terrified and unwilling to follow in the footsteps of his parents. The thought was with him wherever he went - the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Movement outside brought him out of his self-pitying trance. A thestral had pulled up to the gates, pulling a small covered carriage. In the dark of the night, Draco could barely make out Professor McGonagall step out of the carriage with a girl he did not recognize. McGonagall patted her shoulder and disappeared into the night, while the girl approached the front door and stepped into the light. She looked nervous.

Wanted to avoid human interaction, Draco tried turning and walking quickly in the other direction, but soon saw Mrs. Norris heading towards him and cursed audibly. Not feeling up to an interaction with Filch, he made a 180 degree turn and found himself face to face with the girl from the hallway.

He towered over her, which he hoped would intimidate the girl enough to make her walk away, but instead she smiled brightly at him despite the late hour. She had long, thick dark hair, pulled into a braid with a ribbon woven throughout. She wore a sweater and blue jeans which clung to her curvy hourglass figure that even someone as depressed as Draco could appreciate. Her eyes were huge - he thought she looked a bit like a doll - and a bright glassy blue. A smattering of freckles covered her face, from her forehead down to her pink, full lips - which Draco realized were moving.

"... just got in - different time zones, you know - and I really don't have any clue where I'm going." She chattered, as Draco tried to pull himself together. He wasn't sure if it was the late hour, the events of the past summer or the way the girl's blank expression showed no recognition of his identity at all, but he felt like he had been knocked off his feet.

"Sorry" he apologized, "I missed most of that - would you mind repeating yourself?" She blushed.

"I'm always talking too fast - I said, I'm Melanie, and I'm a transfer student this year, from..."

"America." He interrupted, "I can tell by the accent." She smiled again, and Draco felt unsettled. What was wrong with him? He really needed to get some sleep. "I'm Draco Malfoy... I'm a sixth year in Slytherin," he said carefully, and waited for the familiar flash of recognition and disgust to cross her face. But nothing. America really was as far from the UK as you could get.

"I'm a sixth year too - in Gryffindor," she said. Typical, thought Draco. "I just got here from the airport, and I've never even been to the UK before. You're probably looking to get to bed, but would you mind at least pointing me in the right direction?" He suddenly felt a strange burst of energy and friendliness. She was truly stunning - and even he could not resist the temptation of a beautiful face like hers.