This is my first fanfic - it's a oneshot for now, but I might continue if I get inspiration/readers like it. I would love it if you would review and let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: No, I'm not J. K. Rowling, sorry.
Draco was ten years old. It was the first day of the school year and it went just like every other first day: his mother laid out his uniform for him, made his breakfast, and called out "be good!" as he got into the car to be driven to school.
School was the worst part of Draco's life. School was a sensory overload – full of noises, smells, feelings, tastes, and sights that all seemed to play on maximum volume. The sea of people in uniforms only made everything stand out more: the funny people seemed funnier, the cool people seemed cooler, and the mean people seemed meaner.
These stood out because of the monotone background against which they were contrasted, full of mundane people who never did anything noteworthy.
Draco fit into this canvas perfectly. He may have been exceptionally smart, but in a school such as his, that really wasn't very special. What's more, when people did notice his brains, they also tended to notice the way his mother slicked down his hair with a part (he'd told her it wasn't cool, but she said that Malfoys always had to look more distinguished than everyone else) and his distinct lack of friends. After a few of these experiences, Draco came to prefer it when they just didn't notice.
When he was younger, the boy Malfoy was puzzled by the way he seemed to have no special abilities. Teachers and parents (or at least mothers) seemed to say that everyone had their own special talents, but nothing he did was worthy of recognition. His academics merely made him more ignored, he was rubbish at sports, and he already knew that boys didn't do artsy stuff – that was for sissy girls.
Fortunately, Draco really was quite smart, and being in the background of things, he noticed a lot. Eventually he realised why it was that he wasn't special. It was because he bad at being good.
He saw some kids who were naturally friendly to others and were therefore well-liked. He saw kids that were nice and funny, and always made people laugh and be happy. He saw kids that liked to help others out and so the others all wanted to be friends with them.
Draco, however, didn't feel natural doing any of these things. If he tried to be friendly, he just felt fake. If he tried to be funny, he got in trouble for being rude. He tried helping a kid out in class once, but merely offended him.
When he observed the bad kids however, Draco knew he could easily fit in with them. The insults came naturally to him, though of course he never let them out of his mouth. His mother would definitely find out and wash his mouth out with soap. He was a good inventor, and he was sure he would never run out of ways to trick people and get them in trouble.
The problem was that Draco didn't want to be bad. He didn't want to disappoint his mother, and he definitely didn't want to be like his father, who he had once heard another parent call "a bad, bad man" when he had invited their son over to play.
He wanted to be like the good kids who had lots of friends and who everyone noticed. He wanted to be the one who got voted class president. He never could quite cut it, though.
Being good wasn't easy, he always eventually messed up and then there was the disappointment, the punishment, and the shame. Being bad, on the other hand, was something that seemed really easy.
Driving to his school for the last time, Draco wondered if anyone at his school would even remember him when he was gone to Hogwarts. He couldn't let that happen. He had his family name to uphold and memories to be made. This year was going to be different, his mother's expectations be damned.
Draco wasn't going to keep trying and failing to be a good kid. He wasn't going to try to be a terrible person, persay, he was just going to act... naturally. He was going to do whatever it took to make friends. After all, parents and teachers always had to be somewhat just and reasonable, even when they were punishing you. Your peers had the power to make your life a living hell.
Knowing this, Draco was determined to get some of that power of popularity others had. He was going to become the loudest, brightest, best patch in the school canvas, and people were going to finally see how good he could be – how good at being bad.
When he first heard kids talking about how he had changed, heard one of them call him a 'snooty, arrogant prat' and a 'evil git', Draco smothered the annoying feelings of remorse and guilt. For once in his life, he was successful. For once in his life, he was being noticed. The feeling was like a high, and he knew he was addicted for life.
Please let me know what you think!