Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine. Why else would I be writing fanfiction?
Draco Malfoy stood up, hurling the brassy omninoculars that he had bought at the previous year's Quidditch World Cup into the sea of red-robed Bulgarian supporters. He stormed out of his family's private box and down the stairs; anything to get away from Viktor Krum and his crowds of fans. He couldn't stand to live on the same planet as him, and now that Draco's little brother had been sent to Durmstrang, he was forced to spend every second weekend watching Krum play for the Bulgarian side, or listen to his little brother harp on about how "Famous Viktor Krum" used to go to his school. "What's so special about him? Why does everyone like HIM? He's not better than me – he even walks strangely!" He muttered angrily to himself as he descended the stairs; looking for some way to get back to Britain, back to Hogwarts, where he could complain about Krum as much as he liked without being ostracized by his family.
As Draco raced down the stairs, he knocked over an elderly witch who was coming up, but he kept going, taking no notice of the people he was hurting or really where he was going. Blind hatred boiled up in him, his mind irrationally linking events, causing him to get angrier with every cheer the crowd let out. He rounded a corner, to barrel into two security wizards, dressed in dark blue robes and armed with wands.
"Vhere do you sink you are going, sir?" One of the guards asked in a thick accent, as they each grabbed one of Draco's arms and propelled him towards a small room, where he was kept under guard for the rest of the match. He spluttered and reasoned with the guards, but to no avail.
"It's Krum's fault, all of it, I didn't do anything!" Draco pounded on the wall, pretending it was Krum.
"It is zhee fault of zhee Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum, that you are in zis place with me? Zat is a gut one!" The guard laughed, and Draco became more infuriated, it wasn't funny. He tried to apparate out, a thought that had only just occurred to him, but was unsuccessful.
"There must be a charm placed on the room," He thought.
The guard, seeing his attempt at escape, decided to humour him, "So, vhat did 'Krum' do to get you in here?"
Draco found that he was so angry he could hardly think straight, and for a while he was unsure as to what had started his massive I-hate-Viktor-Krum spree. Then the memories came flooding back, as he and the guard were taken back to early December the previous year, when Draco had been in his fifth year at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry.
Draco Malfoy stood up, hurling the brassy omninoculars that he had bought at the previous year's Quidditch World Cup into the sea of red-robed Bulgarian supporters. He stormed out of his family's private box and down the stairs; anything to get away from Viktor Krum and his crowds of fans. He couldn't stand to live on the same planet as him, and now that Draco's little brother had been sent to Durmstrang, he was forced to spend every second weekend watching Krum play for the Bulgarian side, or listen to his little brother harp on about how "Famous Viktor Krum" used to go to his school. "What's so special about him? Why does everyone like HIM? He's not better than me – he even walks strangely!" He muttered angrily to himself as he descended the stairs; looking for some way to get back to Britain, back to Hogwarts, where he could complain about Krum as much as he liked without being ostracized by his family.
As Draco raced down the stairs, he knocked over an elderly witch who was coming up, but he kept going, taking no notice of the people he was hurting or really where he was going. Blind hatred boiled up in him, his mind irrationally linking events, causing him to get angrier with every cheer the crowd let out. He rounded a corner, to barrel into two security wizards, dressed in dark blue robes and armed with wands.
"Vhere do you sink you are going, sir?" One of the guards asked in a thick accent, as they each grabbed one of Draco's arms and propelled him towards a small room, where he was kept under guard for the rest of the match. He spluttered and reasoned with the guards, but to no avail.
"It's Krum's fault, all of it, I didn't do anything!" Draco pounded on the wall, pretending it was Krum.
"It is zhee fault of zhee Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum, that you are in zis place with me? Zat is a gut one!" The guard laughed, and Draco became more infuriated, it wasn't funny. He tried to apparate out, a thought that had only just occurred to him, but was unsuccessful.
"There must be a charm placed on the room," He thought.
The guard, seeing his attempt at escape, decided to humour him, "So, vhat did 'Krum' do to get you in here?"
Draco found that he was so angry he could hardly think straight, and for a while he was unsure as to what had started his massive I-hate-Viktor-Krum spree. Then the memories came flooding back, as he and the guard were taken back to early December the previous year, when Draco had been in his fifth year at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry.