#2 - Draco: Win or Lose
Pureblood. That's what I am. That's what I will always be. That's what my forefathers were, and God willing, that's what my children will be.
When those words are drilled into your head 24 hours a day, 7 days a weeks, 52 weeks a year for almost 15 years, you tend not to forget them.
I was born into luxury. Huge manor, tons of house-elves, thousands of toys, friends my father bought for me - anything I could possibly want. Of course I'm spoiled rotten, and the first to admit it. How could I have become anything else, growing up the way I did?
Then came Hogwart's, where I hardly needed to be Sorted to know what house I would be in, where I picked my two stupidest, largest classmates to be my friends and special protectors, where I used my special brand of charm and obnoxious wealth to make myself popular. No need to think, really, just do as expected and everything will work out.
I supposed it's little wonder why I hate myself so much.
It was great at first, you know - all I had to do was go on about how awful Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers were, buy everyone something quite expensive, and I had a set of ready-made friends. My parents were pleased, of course - I'd made it into Slytherin and was doing fine, working my magic, so to speak, on teachers and students alike. Then came Potter. No, I should say, then came my father.
It never occurred to me that what my father did could be considered bad. I thought it rather cool, actually. All those Dark Arts artifacts and the knowledge and power...who wouldn't be impressed? Then it came out that he worked for the Dark Lord, and though he'd turned tail a few times, he was now quite faithful, an important soldier in His army...loyal and true. It seemed to me to be so amazing, that my father wielded so much power over people, people that he'd once taught me to respect...
Then Potter almost died. A dream come true, you may say. But then...Harry's a Pureblood, too - thought his mother was a filthy Mudblood, he had a witch and a wizard as parents, and his father - as powerful on his side as my father on ours. And Cedric Diggory, his blood is as old as mine, and he he was killed, by the Dark Lord no less/
Makes a guy think.
The only reason I hate Potter is because he chose the wrong friends. I'm caught thinking that we could have been allies, had he been Sorted into Slytherin, had he not met Weasley on that first train ride. Had I not been brainwashed.
I've always rejected Potter for choosing the losing side, but now I'm caught wondering:
Which is really the losing side?
A/N: Yeah, corny. I know. I'm not a big Draco fan, but he's fun to write. I've always thought there was more to him than the front he presented.
Everything is J.K.s, as usual. Have fun and be careful.
Pureblood. That's what I am. That's what I will always be. That's what my forefathers were, and God willing, that's what my children will be.
When those words are drilled into your head 24 hours a day, 7 days a weeks, 52 weeks a year for almost 15 years, you tend not to forget them.
I was born into luxury. Huge manor, tons of house-elves, thousands of toys, friends my father bought for me - anything I could possibly want. Of course I'm spoiled rotten, and the first to admit it. How could I have become anything else, growing up the way I did?
Then came Hogwart's, where I hardly needed to be Sorted to know what house I would be in, where I picked my two stupidest, largest classmates to be my friends and special protectors, where I used my special brand of charm and obnoxious wealth to make myself popular. No need to think, really, just do as expected and everything will work out.
I supposed it's little wonder why I hate myself so much.
It was great at first, you know - all I had to do was go on about how awful Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers were, buy everyone something quite expensive, and I had a set of ready-made friends. My parents were pleased, of course - I'd made it into Slytherin and was doing fine, working my magic, so to speak, on teachers and students alike. Then came Potter. No, I should say, then came my father.
It never occurred to me that what my father did could be considered bad. I thought it rather cool, actually. All those Dark Arts artifacts and the knowledge and power...who wouldn't be impressed? Then it came out that he worked for the Dark Lord, and though he'd turned tail a few times, he was now quite faithful, an important soldier in His army...loyal and true. It seemed to me to be so amazing, that my father wielded so much power over people, people that he'd once taught me to respect...
Then Potter almost died. A dream come true, you may say. But then...Harry's a Pureblood, too - thought his mother was a filthy Mudblood, he had a witch and a wizard as parents, and his father - as powerful on his side as my father on ours. And Cedric Diggory, his blood is as old as mine, and he he was killed, by the Dark Lord no less/
Makes a guy think.
The only reason I hate Potter is because he chose the wrong friends. I'm caught thinking that we could have been allies, had he been Sorted into Slytherin, had he not met Weasley on that first train ride. Had I not been brainwashed.
I've always rejected Potter for choosing the losing side, but now I'm caught wondering:
Which is really the losing side?
A/N: Yeah, corny. I know. I'm not a big Draco fan, but he's fun to write. I've always thought there was more to him than the front he presented.
Everything is J.K.s, as usual. Have fun and be careful.