This is the story of my biggest mistake. The funny thing about mistakes though, they can bring sweet pain and forbidden pleasure. One word can change your luck, and one big mistake? That can change your life forever. My name is Draco Malfoy and even as I lay here dying, I wouldn't change a thing. My biggest mistake is my greatest pride.
It all started on the first day of Hogwarts. I had met him before then, Harry Potter that is, but I only saw a new student like me when we met. He was clueless about our world, so it is no wonder that I didn't recognise him. I grew up hearing this boy's name as a hiss and a curse around my house, but there was no reason for him to stick in my mind before I knew his name. Yet, I couldn't stop thinking of him. That odd boy in the clothes shop.
Even when I got on the Hogwarts express weeks later he was on my mind. I wondered Idly where he was on the train or if we would meet again. I had no intention of looking for him, or anyone for that matter, but the rumors passing by, like the breeze that foretells a storm, caught me. I could hear it in the hall and see it on their lips, Harry Potter was on the train. Famous Potter, the boy who lived, was here.
I heard his name in my father's complaints. Saw his effect on my mother's fears. The what-ifs ran rampant alongside his story. I knew what dark paths my family trod, I knew and reveled in that knowledge. Ever since I could talk I heard of how he ruined the Dark Lord. My parents never hid the struggle of fitting back into society from me. This Harry Potter had played such a role in my life merely by being born. I had to meet him.
Leaving Crabbe and Goyle behind was no trouble, I threw food and they ate. Disgusting minions, just like their fathers are to mine. My heart sped up as I moved down the train. "Compartment six" and "With that Weasley." These comments leaked from the cars I passed, along with others. The Weasley bit was particularly odd to hear, I mean really, they were known as the most pathetic wizarding family, blood traitors the lot of them. If they were hanging around Potter it was bound to be for money, they lived in one room or something for all I knew.
Potter was famous, even notorious around those I knew. He had this draw to him, something that pulled people in. I wanted his friendship instantly. I must admit, when I decided that, my interest in Potter was that of a collector buying a rare piece. I had no interest as him as a person, but then he never had been in my mind. It wasn't my fault, it was just the way I was raised, he was a story, nothing more.
I found his compartment quickly. It was ridiculously easy. All down the way were the rumors, gigglers, and gawkers whispering and pointing the way to him. My racing pulse stopped dead when I saw who he was and my heart skipped a beat. "You," I said famous Harry Potter was my odd boy in Madam Malkin's. No one noticed my outburst and shock, least of all Potter and that Weasley boy, Ronald's his name, but I had no clue what it was then. They were elbow deep in treats that no doubt Potter had bought. Stupid Ronald. He couldn't pay a single knut if his life depended on it. I still don't like him.
I threw open the door without hesitation. "Harry Potter." I extended the hand of my friendship and a way to escape Ronald before it was too late. He wouldn't even touch my hand. I have to admit, I was embarrassed a bit, but more so I was hurt. I reacted in anger after that, as often I do. I laughed louder, showed off more, and kept that cutting edge to everything I said as the sorting started. I was not surprised to end up in Slytherin, for I knew that was my place. That hat got the room's attention when it said his name though. "Harry Potter." Two words and the whole school was abuzz. I never told a soul of the nagging hope that he would be in my house.
I quickly rose to a position of power among the other first years. The Malfoys have always been a powerful force, and not just because of our money. No one was surprised that I took the top slot in my year. Even some older students did my bidding. I rose in popularity and respect, and there was no one I couldn't win over somehow. Except Potter and his friends. He and I became rivals that year. I remember how angry he made me. We clashed in the halls, classes, and even in my dreams. Potions was the greatest satisfaction to me, not only because Snape loved me, but also because he hated Potter as much as I loved tormenting Potter. That class was my kingdom really. Nothing could stop me and Potter was my goal. If he didn't want me as a friend, then I would have him as my rival.
In flying lessons I got the first taste of the passion he had. Bumbling idot Neville, waste of a pureblood if there ever was one, left that toy behind. Neville hung around Potter's little trio on occasion, so I thought Potter would rise to my taunts. I wasn't wrong either. We rose in the air with the same level of grace, mine came from years of practice, but his was natural. I was cocky about the thing, and before you ask- yes I can admit that I am not perfect, crazy right? Then he threatened to knock me off my broom and I saw it. His passion was there in his startling green eyes, burning with a fire I'd never before seen. My heart started racing and a new feeling hit. This was one feeling I didn't cause a show over. It terrified me, and so I fled.
I tried to ignore my inner feelings and forget them too. He played quidditch and I mocked him for it. He slipped and I was there to laugh at his failure. He growled once when I approached with Crabbe and Goyle. We were enemies, glorious rivals! He and I danced to a beat only we could hear. Our fatal tango only grew more complex each day, the two of us were bobbing and weaving to an ever increasing tattoo. Something had to give, due to this rivalry between us that grew larger and fiercer.
Nothing happened in that year, nothing between us that is. He increased his legend and I increased my influence to match him. We parted ways without a backwards glance, but once at home I couldn't stop talking about him. Father grew weary of my talk and Mother disapproved of my obsession with him. I then began to rant to Dobby, our house elf. He had to listen if I commanded him to. I couldn't wait to see Potter again and I swore to myself it was only to torment him. My lies fooled everyone; I even fooled myself back then. When the journey to the Hogwarts Express came time I was ecstatic; running only on my own growing passion.
The attacks started second year. The whole 'heir of slytherin' thing was a pain. Potter got all the credit for it! Father said to let it go and get on with school. He was glad to have rid of more mudbloods at school. Still I was upset that HE got all the glory and fear from the attacks. It only made him more untouchable. I hated him so much and he was on my mind far too often. Potter Potter Potter, great prat Potter, bloody annoying Potter, and famous Harry Potter. I wanted to make him pay for being on my mind. He had to be punished for the passion he invoked in me. I caused problems for him whenever we crossed paths. He had other things on his mind though, I watched his anger with me become replaced with his other worries. It killed me to see, so I grew more bold with my attacks on him. Nothing I did that year fazed him.
