Draco Malfoy was in a foul mood. He had just got detention from McGonagall…for the sixth day running. He hurried through the great hall without looking where he was going, scattering terrified first years. He crashed into somebody in the entrance, and fell heavily onto the stone floor.
A pair of emerald green eyes peered down at him, surrounded by messy black spikes. Draco felt himself turning red. It was Harry Potter. Could this day get any worse?
"Sorry," he mumbled, scrambling to his feet and brushing down his robes. Harry looked at him in surprise.
"Since when have you said sorry to me??" he asked, messing his hair up with one hand. Draco loved it when he did that. In fact, he loved pretty much everything about Harry. Unfortunately, the feeling wasn't mutual.
"Um..." Draco stuttered.
Harry raised one eyebrow, and sighed impatiently.
"Whatever," he muttered.
"Learn to take an apology Potter,"
"From you? I doubt I can trust anything you say."
"Well piss off then!" the blonde shouted, angrily. "I've had a bad enough day already, without you making it worse!"
He turned on his heel and fled down the stairs. But not before Harry had seen the tears in his silver grey eyes.
Did he just… was Malfoy crying? he thought in astonishment. It definitely wasn't like Malfoy. In fact, Harry had expected him to start a fight. What was going on?
Meanwhile, Draco Malfoy had made his way to the Slytherin common room. He collapsed onto a chair, breathing very fast.
Well done, Malfoy. he thought bitterly. Now Harry hates you even more…
How the mighty had fallen. Draco had started school as a bright popular rich boy, with firm ideas and prejudices implanted in him by his father. He acted like a prat. He knew it now. He was made a Slytherin straight away. It took him only a few months to realise that Lucius Malfoy had been wrong. Wrong about muggle-borns. Wrong about Dumbledore. And most of all, wrong about Harry Potter.
Draco had fallen head over heels. At first, he was sure that it was some kind of phase he was going through. After all, he was a hormonal teenage boy. However, years went by, and he felt the same. In fact, he had the feeling it was getting worse. But still he kept up his character. If his father suspected anything, Draco was as good as dead. There were no family values for Lucius Malfoy. Draco had spent sixteen miserable years in the Malfoy mansion, being bullied and intimidated by his father, and he knew that Lucius planned for Draco to follow in his footsteps to become a Death Eater.
But Draco could never kill anybody. He was not like his father- who was pure evil. Sure the Dark Mark was a pretty cool tattoo, but torturing muggles? Murdering innocent wizards? No way.
Except now Lucius had been arrested. He had been sent off to Azkaban, and Draco was finally free. His mother Narcissa was also a Death Eater, but she had never treated him as his father had done. She might actually love him, too afraid of Lucius to show any real affection. Everybody was afraid of Lucius Malfoy.
So now Draco was open to make his move. However, by this time, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were worst enemies. His pretence had gone too far; Harry detested him. Draco felt himself crying about it each night. What could he do? It was too late.