There he stood. Famous Potter, posing with Lockhart for the front page of the Daily Prophet. In the midst of the distraction, Draco ripped a page out of a book he had been reading, but never intended to buy. No one was paying him any attention anyways. They were too busy basking in the fame of the two most arrogant celebrities in all of England. Potter at this point had managed to fight his way out of the crowd, but still received awe-struck looks of complete admiration from on looking spectators.
"I bet you loved that didn't you Potter?" Malfoy spat as he descended the staircase of Flourish and Blotts with slight wiggle to his hips.
Harry swung his head around, as if he was a dog hearing a whistle. He shot Malfoy a look of extreme distain.
"Famous Potter," Draco said with great mockery. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."
Draco suddenly felt the familiar thud of his father's walking stick. Draco was very well like his father in appearance, but not in heart.
"Now, now, Draco. Play nicely," Mr. Malfoy said coldly, releasing his cane from his shoulder. His father turned to Harry with a superior smirk. "Lucius Malfoy. We meet at last. Forgive me," he stated, as he drew his cane out to unveil Potter's glorified scar behind his stupidly messy hair. "Your scar is legend. As, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you…"
"Voldemort killed my parents."
Again with the parents.
"He was nothing more than a murderer," said Potter, taking a slight step forward. I bet he thinks he's being brave. Bloody idiot. I know that one day his so-called-nerve will end up getting him killed.
Mr. Malfoy looked down at Harry with slight curiosity. " You must be very brave to mention his name…or very foolish…"
"Fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself," came a voice from the background. The matter-of-fact tone was unmistakable, and it belonged to the bushy haired little witch who pushed her way to the Malfoys, shielding Harry like a protective mother.
Mr. Malfoy sneered at the small girl. "…And you must be…Ms. Granger…" he said, his upper lip twitching.
She looked at Draco with disgust. Draco smirked at her, raising his eyebrows in confirmation. He assumed she thought Draco had been telling his father about her being a know-it-all-muggleborn. It was only natural, as he never treated her like she was an equal, let alone a human being. Draco mentally gave himself a hard kick. If he had only smiled kindly, maybe—just maybe—she might have realized that he would never tell anyone awful things about Hermione. It would have been impossible. She was perfect.
"Oh yes…Draco's told me all about you…"
Draco tried to not let his brief moment of sheer panic display across his face. His eyes flickered nervously to his father. Would he dare say anything?
He watched Hermione through the corner of his eye, whose cheeks were tinted slightly pink at the remark.
"…and your parents…muggles…"
He sighed in relief. I'm safe. +
Draco bit the inside of his cheek, trying to conceal any traces of emotion. He glared at Granger, trying to express his repulsion with her dirty blood, but he couldn't manage any truthful looks of disgust. How could he? She was kind, strong, intelligent, beautiful and so powerful on her own. She was nothing like Pansy. Pansy was vain, snobby, and pretended to be fragile and broken without him. But Granger, she was something different. She was special. He didn't understand why she let Weasley and Potter follow her around like lost dogs. They were completely useless. They didn't appreciate her, they only used her for her brains to pass exams and copy homework. They didn't understand her. They would never understand her.