Draco Malfoy walked wearily to breakfast. He ran an agitated hand through his sleek platinum blond hair and surveyed the Great Hall. Narrowing his slate grey eyes at the other pathetic houses, he strutted towards the Slytherin table where loud jeers from the first years greeted him.
They had heard about what had happened of course, the whole school probably knew by now. He sat down next to Crabbe and Goyle and glared at the First Years so fiercely that they abruptly stopped, looking slightly alarmed.
Despite all that had happened, his reputation as a Malfoy preceded him. Everyone knew what he, or rather his father, could do to anyone that displeased him.
Pansy Parkinson was wearing a smug expression but as he scanned her face, he detected a slight hint of guilt that she was trying so hard to disguise, making him suspect that she already regretted dumping him the previous day.
"Serves you right, leaving me for Blaise Zabini. I'll make you regret it." he thought bitterly, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows.
Truthfully, Draco had never particularly liked Pansy Parkinson; he had only dated her in the first place because it was the expected thing to do. Plus, the way she had always laughed at his jokes (predominately about Potter of course) and the fact she always gazed at him adoringly when he spoke was pretty flattering.
However, he honestly wouldn't have cared less that she had broken up with him had it not been for his bruised pride. His obvious superiority meant that it was highly embarrassing for Zabini to have been chosen over him. Him. Draco Malfoy. It was inconceivable.
Keeping his inner monologue to himself (there was no way he was going to waste any more time defending himself against this useless scum), he simply said disdainfully,
"Blaise Zabini, is that the best you can do?"
Draco sneered at Pansy's reddening cheeks and glanced at the Gryffindor table. He immediately spotted Ron Weasley, his vivid red hair looking luminous in the dark Great Hall. Ron was ignoring Harry and Hermione's attempts to talk to him as he whispered lovingly to his beloved roast chicken. Yes, you read that correctly. Beloved.
Regardless of how ridiculous this sounded, something stirred deep within Draco. Could it be jealousy?
A/N: What do you think of this first chapter? Let me know!