This had to be a bloody joke.
Draco never thought he'd actually think that Dumebledore should've stayed. Quite frankly, he hated the man. No reason why, he just did, probably because of his father and all of his ideals stuck in the back of his mind. After all, Draco had compeltely grown to believe everything his father told him, including the stories about Dumbledore, which deep down, knew eren't so true.
And now, he was pissed. No, pissed didn't even cover for how he felt. He had thought that it was Good riddance that the old man was gone, but no. As soon as Umbridge took contorl of the school, she decided that change was to be put upon the school. At the words, Draco had smirked, but it wasn't long until that smirk faded, Umbridge's next words crashing the world around him.
Wizarding Games.
Wzarding bloody games. His father had told him about this, it was a really, but really old hame. One that meant only one person would come out of it. 14 participants, 7 females, 7 males. One survived. One! This was ridiculous, a joke. But when he had came to Umbridge asking her with a nervous laugh if this was true, she had smiled, laughing in the creepiest way, and told him that it wasn't a joke, not at all.
He had swallowed hard and shut himself up. He prayed that he wouldn't have to be one of them, but he feared that it just might be. One girl and one boy from each year would be chosen. This was stupid. The first years would never stand a chance. Draco was't one to shoutout the injustice for the first years, simply because he had a reputation to keep, but he did feel bad for them. He wasn't heartless. The look on their face was completely normal, if he had to judge them. Many cried, and quite frankly, he probably would've of if he was 11, started to go to Hogwarts and learned he might die.
His father would hear about this.
''Draco Malfoy.''
His name spoken aloud stripped him out of his thoughts, making him frown as he looked up, seeing Umbridge had been the one speaking. Everyone was looking at him with fear, and pity in their eyes. Why the bloody hell?
''Draco Malfoy. Come here please.'' she repeated, growing impatient.
He stood up, not liking the negative attention everyone was giving him. Did he miss something? He was obviously lost in his mind for too long. ''Yes?'' he snapped, knowing this probably wasn't the tone he should've used with her, especialyl since she could easily put him in those bloody wizarding games.
''Flinch will escort you to your room. I suggest you take this week as a good time to practice if you want to be able to survive, my boy.'' she tilted her head to the side, her smile making him think she was actually talking about something else, and his mind was playing ticks on him.
''What?!'' he responded, his eyes widening.
''You heard me. Don't make me say it twice, or you might loose a day to practice! Hum-hum.'' she finished, and he couln't even believe it.
''You can't do this.'' he tried to say with firm, but he was almost shaking from the news. ''My father-''
''Your father is from the Ministry, as I recall. And I, am the misnitry. If you disapprove of my methods, you disapprove the Ministry, and therefore, your father. You are alone in this, Mister Malfoy. Go and start practising if you want to be the one succeeding.''
''This is nonesense!'' he shouted, looking around for anyone to help him out of this. Of course not. They didn't want to be the chosen one for this. ''I am not a criminal, you have no right to sentence me to death.''
''This is no death, mister Malfoy. You have a chance of surviving. The Minsitry believes that Hogwarts has gotten out of hand. Nobody listens. And Dumbledore's Army...Only shows that so many here want to take over the Ministry. This is only to show you, that you should never try to cross the Ministry.'' she smiled again, and he had the urge to kill her.
''I wasn't even in Dumbledore's Army! I HELPED you-''
''Enough. The decision has been made, I had no contorl over it. Now, if you please-''
''No.'' he stood there, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew he wouldn't survive this if he was thrown in that game, he wasn't an idiot. Someone from either 7th year or 6th year would win. That was for sure. She wouldn't Avada him, and thus, he was nothing to lose. Or so he thought.
Or so he thought.
The next thing he knew he was bloody petrified by a spell she gave him, and Flinch was talking him to god-knows-where. He wanted to scream, to shout, but the spell was too strong. Someone would have to undo it. And it certainly wouldn't be Flinch.
When he was thrown on the floor he couldn't even groan in pain, he just...laid there. He didn't know who the bloody hell the other fifth year chosen would be, but he sure hoped she would know how to undo this spell.
''Innervate!''
He felt relieved and got on his feet, only to feel out of balance as he noticd who exactly it was that was standing right in front of him, visibly frightened by the situation like he was.
Hermione fucking Granger.