Draco was paralyzed with fear.
The train rumbled around him, unpredictably swaying and bouncing. The motion added to his stomach's unease. He had been sent off with these encouraging words from his father:
"Don't fuck this up Draco, or you will watch your loved ones die."
And my fate will be no more pleasant, he'd thought.
His friends knew something was different, but he gave them no sign of his terror. His face was stony and impatient, framed by glowing blonde hair that hung atypically low. A side effect of ceaseless anxiety.
"I hope professor Snape finally gives Potter the lashing he deserves," he sneered. The sneer came out half grimace.
Goyle looked up from his 'witches and bitches' magazine:
"Fucking right. That kid needs to be taken down a few."
Happily, Draco's acting went unquestioned. He proceeded to bash Harry, and the conversation eased him a bit. After a while, the trolly rolled by. Draco bought a few chocolates for his party, and the talk turned to school. Crabbe and Goyle crammed their candies down and argued over which professor was the most stupid, but Draco felt himself growing angry. These little kids were prattling on and on about nothing. People's families were dying, his was in danger, and they didn't care at all.
He growled and looked at them impatiently.
"I'm going to get some air." he stated simply, before standing up to walk out. When the sliding door was shut, he let his fist unclench. The tears were few, but real. He made sure they were wiped clean before even turning around, and upon turning, he nearly choked out in surprise. None other than Harry Potter- the chosen boy himself- was standing down the aisle from him, staring intently. Their eyes met for the breifest moment before Harry ducked quickly into a compartment, leaving Draco swaying by himself. The train rattled away loudly.
Shitshitshit, what do I do.. Calm down, Draco, calm down..
Draco was frozen in place for several minutes. A few first years passed him, giving him as wide a berth as possible.
Had he seen me crying? Did my shoulders shake?
He took a breath. Maybe it was all in his mind. The stress was just getting to him. He pushed the door open, and sauntered back into the compartment. Pride was a funny thing.
"Miss me then, lover boys?" he taunted.
Before he shut the door, a slight breeze wafted past him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He smelled the air, catching hints of soap and pumpkin. Somebody besides himself had just entered the room, he was sure of it.
He sat down and glared at Goyle's questioning look. His stooge got the message, deciding instead to stare out of the rattling glass window at the red-orange sunset.
"Still talking about that know-nothing hypocrite, Dumbledore?" asked Draco. He could have sworn he heard somebody clench their teeth in anger.
Goyle scoffed.
"Hardly worth thinking." He grunted.
"Yes, with the little real estate left in your miniscule mind," Drawled Draco, "You'll want to focus on more pressing issues." He snatched the porn magazine from Goyle's claws and flipped through it derisively. "Like... Curvy Kurnella here, and her 'couldron tits'" The compartment rolled with sniggers, and Goyle snatched it back from Malfoy, glowering hotly.
"What's it to you, Draco- Just because you were busy mooning after your butler all summer to-" Goyle froze midword.
Draco had stood to full height over the gargoyle of a sixth-year, wand drawn and face contorted.
"How dare you entertain your weak imaginings with that image." He said darkly. The wand prodded Goyle between the eyes once, then twice, sharply. "One more word like that.." he started. The little rattling compartment had fallen under a hush. Draco straightened up and fixed his robes unnecessarily. "When scum like that Potter boy still lurks around in our world?" He spat. "I have a plan for this year, boys and girls."
The tenseness dissolved, making way for anticipation. They'd expected Draco to come up with something. He had gone on at length last year about how Harry deserved to be put in his place, in a big way. Their parting conversation had been a great brainstorm of ideas. Hacking the golden boy's feet off had been a favorite of Goyle's, but Draco had been pressing them for something more subtle. He'd left them with an image of famous Harry Potter, standing alone and abandoned, while his shameless worshippers, Weasel and the Mud-blood, duked it out on their own. They just needed some wedge to drive between their hapless lover stooges. Draco was sure Potter would be reduced to a quivering mass without his little fan club..
"I've found just the thing," Draco dangled the carrot. His group flopped obediently:
"We'll cut off his feet then!" Boomed Goyle. Crabbe thumped him roughly:
"Let him say, git." (Goyle rubbed at where he'd been hit, glowering.)
Draco smirked,
"Not as such, Goyle. But a warning for starters shouldn't hurt.."