Summary: We all know the story of Harry Potter. Of how he survived an attack by the most feared dark wizard of the age, and how he defeated that wizard with the help of his friends. He had many enemies, and all of them had different reasons for hating him, and Draco Malfoy was one of those enemies. Why did he hate Harry Potter, really? Why did he try to kill his Headmaster, really? What was he really thinking?

Author's notes: This entire fanfiction is basically a remake of the entire series from Draco Malfoy's first-person point of view. It is definitely not as long, and I gloss over one through five (1-4 are covered in this chapter). The main focus is The Half-Blood Prince and The Deathly Hallows. It is also more film-based than book-based because I personally think that the films did a better job at showcasing Draco, but the books are still, over-all, better than the films, but because it's film-based, there are going to be scenes from the films rewritten for Draco's point of view, though that is not the entire fic. For future, I don't think I wrote Bellatrix's character well, so...yeah. Also, this is my first fanfiction ever. This is going to be multiple chapters, and I already have about twenty chapters written, and there are more to come. I'm going to try to stick to weekly updates until I run out of chapters.

Copyright stuff: Exact quotes are used (That I did NOT make up. Full credit for those quotes is given to Warner Brothers Studios) There is one OC in this: a House Elf named Loft, but I do not own the concept of House Elves or any other character in this fanfiction. No other Copyright infringement intended.

Trigger Warnings: I really don't want this to hit too close to home for people or make anyone uncomfortable, so if you don't think you can handle some of this stuff, do not read.

Depression (briefly mentioned suicidal thoughts included)

Anorexia (I didn't realize until later that I made Draco anorexic. I am not anorexic, so forgive any inaccuracies, and it's more so that he doesn't feel like eating or forgets to)

PTSD (manifesting in the form of nightmares and a hand tremor)

Mild psychological and physical torture (The psychological stuff is VERY brief and only pops up once. The physical stuff is in the form of a Cruciatus Curse, and there's a little blood. This curse is also used on animals, but you only see it once)

Abuse (This happens around Chapter Twenty. It is clear that Lucius drinks a lot in the seventh film, and Draco tenses a lot around him. My conclusion is that Lucius is a drunk and abuses Draco)

If you guys can survive reading all that, I hope you enjoy! If you hate Draco Malfoy because of what he's done, I hope this fanfiction will change your mind. I have had two friends read it, and both say that they liked it, and one said that it changed her opinion about Draco in the first chapter.

Chapter One

I blasted through the door of the men's lavatory, tore off my suffocating vest and threw it onto the damp ground. I bent over the sink, staring at my pale face in the mirror.

How did I end up here?

My parents' life was never as good as it could be, and I had always hoped that it would improve. With Potter planning on fighting Voldemort from our First Year, I hoped that my mother and father would finally gain control over their own lives again.

But with that serpent-like dark wizard being back in flesh and bone...there was even less of a chance.

My father always told me of how great Voldemort was. He put me to bed with tales of his "greatness" since before I could speak. I never told my father, but the stories of Voldemort had frightened me to the point where I had nightmares of him coming after us, and I cried in the middle of the night. I couldn't cry in the presence of my father. He'd never hit me. He was harsh at times, but he would never hit me or my mother, but he did other things that made him equally as intimidating when I showed anything but "proper behavior".

But when I turned eleven, Father changed his stories...

He told me how Voldemort had disappeared because of a boy named Harry Potter. I suppose my father's hatred for him is where my contempt for Potter began.

I tried offering my friendship to Harry when we first met five years ago. I was sure that he couldn't be that bad, but he wouldn't have it.

If Potter could defeat such a terrifying wizard like Voldemort as an infant, what would he be able to do once he was trained in magic? I wanted for us to be allies, then, maybe, my family would be more accepting of him. It wasn't likely that they would end their allegiance to Voldemort, but Harry might have been persuaded to be an ally to the Dark Lord. Then neither of them would be destroyed.

But when Potter refused me, everything my father said came flooding back. I saw nothing but the bad in him, noticing only his more the years went by, the more Harry proved my father right.

Potter's only goal was to destroy the most powerful wizard to ever exist, but he had no plan. He didn't care about the destruction he left in his wake.

That young Weasley girl was hurt because of Potter. My father told me the story of how she got a hold of the journal after everything was resolved.

Harry found the journal and slipped it into her cauldron at the book shop. Potter knew that it was connected to Voldemort somehow and gave it to the easiest target he could spot. He thought that it would lead to Voldemort's defeat, and that's all well and good, but that little redhead nearly died. Potter was lucky that she didn't end up like Moaning Myrtle.

Goyle was right that year when he said that Potter was the worst thing to happen to this school since Dumbledore.

During our Third Year, Potter brought those Dementors to the school. If the rumors could be believed, Sirius Black was heard muttering Potter's name in the middle of the night. Then he escaped, and the Dementors appeared.

Those dark creatures affected everyone in the school, so I didn't think that Harry being adversely affected by the Dementor's presence was funny. They were terrifying, and all of us in my train compartment froze when they floated by our door.

There was this unnatural cold and fear inside of me that penetrated so deep that, admittedly, I curled up and cowered in the corner. The only time I had ever felt something else like that was when I was little and my father told me Voldemort's stories of destruction. A fear like that should not be made fun of.

But Crabbe and Goyle thought that that Potter passing out was the most hilarious thing to have ever happened. They laughed about it for the rest of the train ride to Hogwarts and started planning pranks to pull on him.

I managed to talk the two out of most of them by saying that we would get caught, and Crabbe and Goyle were such dimwits that they fell for it. My father has such an influence on the school, that, even if we did pull those pranks on Potter and got caught, getting in trouble would have been the least likely scenario.

I had to keep up some appearances, though. My family's reputation was being slowly tarnished by the rise of Voldemort, but when I was thirteen, if my father had heard of me letting our standing in the community, even a little…

So I pretended that the Hippogryph nearly took my arm off when it swiped at me and tore my sleeve during Hagrid's class. There was some real blood, but who had ever heard of a Malfoy being taken down by a minor scratch?

It was obvious that Harry and his friends thought I was doing it for attention, but it was just the opposite. I diverted the attention of my father away from myself and onto Hagrid with my little act, but it also earned me the attention of my entire class. I didn't have my father watching my every move, which was all that mattered to me at the time, but then Lupin brought that boggart into class, and I was terrified of what I might see. I didn't know if I would see my father or the picture of Voldemort my youthful imagination had conjured up. I played it off to my friends by making fun of the spell used to defeat the boggart, but I almost went weak with relief when I was able to avoid facing the thing.

My life went on normally after that. I went back to being the "Malfoy of Hogwarts". I had it perfect. Everyone in Slytherin loved me, and everyone in Gryffindor hated me, especially Harry and his two friends.

Fine.

I wanted Potter keeping as much distance from me as possible. The farther away he was from me, the less likely he would hurt my family when he faced the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. It seemed like those close to him always ended up hurt or in trouble. Weasley getting injured our First Year, his sister Second Year and his godfather our Third Year.

But the entire Wizarding World changed the year Dumbledore announced the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

The Dark Mark appeared in the sky at the Quidditch match.

Potter somehow managed to get his name into the Goblet of Fire.

Snape and the Durmstrang headmaster snuck off to have loud conversations.

Nothing added up.

Harry coming back from the Maze with Cedric's dead body, shouting that Voldemort was back, made my heart drop into my churning stomach.

He couldn't be back. My father never said that the Dark Lord had died, but why else would he disappear for so long? Why wouldn't he show himself to his loyal followers? I had believed that he was dead, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

The instant I stepped off the train for summer vacation that year, my father caught me by the arm and dragged me away. He gripped me so hard that my arm was tattooed with a hand-shaped bruise for a week, all the while, Potter celebrated his victory over the Tournament and gave away his winnings to those redheaded twins.

Scar Head was swept away by the Weasleys, and I was delivered to our manor where You-Know-Who waited.

He stood in our dining room in thin black robes, his thick snake coiling around his feet. "Thank you, Lucius," he hissed in his breathy voice.

My father lowered his head in a bow and left the room. I gazed after him, panicked. He looked at me sternly before closing the door behind him, telling me not to screw this up for us.

"Draco," his wheezing voice called, sending a chill to my bones.

I slowly turned towards his pale, flattened face as he gestured for me to sit down at the dining table.

I took a shaky breath, trying to calm my trembling nerves, but despite my fear, I moved towards the long table and took a seat.

The Dark Lord followed me, his black robes flowing behind him, as if it was blown by an unfelt wind, and took a chair near me at the side of the table. "Your family has the opportunity to take part in a wonderful event," he breathed. "Your parents have already agreed to be a part of it, and they hope for you to agree as well. You will be an integral part of what I have planned."

He paused and stared at me through his slitted eyes, as if waiting for me to say something, but I froze, unsure of what to say, or if I was supposed to say anything at all. It took everything in me to keep the look of terror off of my face.

Voldemort's large pet snake slithered up to me and ran itself along my shoe. It seemed like it was threatening me, trying to coerce me into agreement, but what would I be agreeing to?

"How could I help…. exactly?" my voice cracking slightly as I glanced down at the dangerous beast wrapping itself around my ankle.

"You are close with Harry Potter," he wheezed, raising his hand from his chair's armrest and reaching towards the floor. His long snake raised its head to meet his long-fingered hand. "You would keep me informed on his dealings."

I didn't respond. I stared back at him, frozen.

"It is your choice, Draco, whether or not you want to join us, but remember what your parents expect of you," he continued, ignoring my silence.

The Dark Lord pulled his bone-like wand out of his darkened sleeve and with a wave of the instrument, Apparated out of the room, taking his dangerous pet with him.

I slumped into the seat, unable to hide my overwhelming emotions. My mind raced, replaying the short conversation.

He was right in a way. I was physically near Harry Potter at school, but there was no way Harry's friends would allow me to get anywhere close to him. And what did Voldemort have planned for him? It was obvious that he wanted to kill Potter, but what else did he want from him. Blood? Pain? Torture?

I didn't like Potter much, but I never wished that kind of fate on him. He didn't deserve that. He couldn't even remember the night he defeated Voldemort.

I couldn't let him get close to Harry.

But my parents wanted me to help the Dark Lord, and they probably wanted me to be a part of his army of Death Eaters as well. I didn't want that. There's no telling what I would have to do if I did join them, but if I didn't, You-Know-Who will undoubtedly blame my parents and do any number of things to them.

I didn't want Harry to die, but I didn't want my parents or myself to die, either.

The door flew open and a voice hurriedly demanded, "How was it?"

I straightened my posture and shook my head slightly to clear my mind of my thoughts and turned to see my father rushing towards me, his black walking stick griped tightly in his hand.

"Well?" he almost shouted when I didn't answer.

"F-fine," I stuttered.

My father narrowed his eyes slightly at me until I lowered my gaze from him.

"Just fine?" he repeated, his gaze becoming heated with intensity.

"He wants me to keep an eye on Potter," I said firmly.

"And?" he demanded. But when I didn't answer him as quickly as he wanted, he added, "What have you decided?"

I glanced back up at him, slightly surprised that he wanted an answer right away. "I don't know," I muttered, lowering my eyes again.

"What do you mean you don't know?" my father said, his voice too calm to be real.

"I mean it's a lot to process," I stated, raising my voice a little. "I need to think about it."

Father seemed to tense even more, looking at me with something akin to disgust But he sighed quietly. "Okay. You have two weeks. At the end of those two weeks, you have to give both him and me an answer." With that, he stormed out of the dining room, the sound of his tapping cane quieting with each retreating step.

Now, I was officially caught between a rock and a hard place. What could I do?

Author notes: Did you guys like it? This is my first fanfiction ever, so I'm a little nervous about how it went. I love constructed criticism, so feel free to comment about how you think it could be better in future chapters (I will always consider you suggestions, but that does not mean that they will be accepted). Hope you guys liked Chapter One. Chapter Two will come next week!...Hopefully...School has started back up again, so there's no guarantee that it will be updated regularly, though I will try. Thanks for reading!