The stadium was full. Full of wizards yelling Viktor Krum's name aloud. Draco sunk further in his chair, thinking that he didn't have as much attention at HIS Quidditch matches. Of course, school and world cup were different, but he was a Malfoy. He deserved all the cheers and attention the seeker had. After all, he was only a year older. He blew on one of his blond hair falling in his eyes and mumbled under his breath.

"He is not even that good at the game…"

What he took out of this, was just a severe look from his father, Lucius. Malfoy senior didn't care about Quidditch, he was only there to show the minister that he was trustworthy. Draco rolled his eyes and sank deeper in his reflexion. Tomorrow, school was starting. What a bore. It was his fifth year, three more to go. That was way to long for the Slytherin. A Malfoy's patience had a limit. He emerged from his thoughts when an ambassador that was sitting next to him rose on his feet. He was screaming, probably some insults in his mother tongue, to the Irish that had won the game. Draco stood up to his feet, and instead of joining the desperate cries of the supporters around him, he slid between them before he reached for the door and opened it reaching for french air. It wasn't his choice to come here. He liked the sport, but he preferred playing rather than watching. Were is the fun at watching people having fun? There is none, he thought. Draco brought his stare to the stadium lights up in the dark sky and stayed there for what seemed like hours, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his father frowning at him. He was going to be yelled at. Again. He got up and dusted his large green robes that costed his beloved mother a fortune. He tried to keep eye contact with his father. A challenge. Lucius glance was fiery but not hateful. Only full of wrath and impatience. Of course, the son broke first, lowering his head to stare at his hands, before mumbling again a soft

"I am sorry Father."

Lucius did not reply, he only squeezed Draco's shoulder harder. The Slytherin felt his guts being squashed by a giant hand and that his head was on the edge of explosion, dark covered the bright lights and squashed him. As soon as the sensation came, it disappeared, and when Draco looked up, he was in his bedroom, alone, his suitcase opened wide. The message was clear: he would have to pack his luggage instead of the house elves. That was a dull punition, but he executed himself. He thought that tomorrow, at the same time, he would be in the Slytherin common room with his friends, sipping hot chocolate with too much marshmallow in it, and telling bad sex jokes. He started to pack his robes at last, he put a dragon stuffed animal in it. Marley the Dragon that had accompanied for the last sixteen years of his life. The packing had let him think about the last four past years. They had been long and boring, excepting potion class. Potion class was the best, and the only one he could ace because Snape was his godfather. Draco liked defence against the dark arts to, but he sucked at it. He was way better at hexing people. He has made friends, for sure: Blaise and Pansy and Crabbe and Goyle, that were actually more dogs than friends. They were his hexing partners but thought they were all as close as they could be, Draco felt lonely. People at Hogwarts were not interesting. He tried to get into a relationship with this girl once, it didn't work out. He didn't even remember her name. That's maybe why I got dumped. He didn't care. Girls were not interesting. Boys were not interesting either now that he was thinking about it. The only wizard that turned in a flame inside his heart was Jérémie Buldabber, a model for sportswear. The only problem was, he was a mudblood and french. He sighed at these thoughts and closed his case, slipping in his bed. He will find the right person. Someday. For sure.

Next day, at eleven, the train arrived as usual. He met his friends in one of the wagons, as usual. They talked about there awesome break, as usual. The journey was quick and full of sweets, as usual. The Sorting Hat sorted. The old man that was the headmaster of their school would stand up and make a speech, like every year. Draco was bored. Every year was the same, like the headmaster's speech. Everyday was alike, like the headmaster's robes. What would change this year ? Probably nothing. Draco imagined himself as a princess, Prince Charming saving him from his boredom on his noble steed. Visualising himself in a pink puffy dress made him laugh. Pansy noticed it immediately.

"What? Does Oldie make you laugh?"

"No"

"Good… Because what he is saying is interesting, for once"

That didn't make Draco listen more to the "oldie" as Pansy called him. He sank once more in the depth of his mind. His prince would take him so far from England. They will go to France together on a Dragon's back and they will eat Croissants and smoke cigarettes for the rest of their life. Then he could at least meat Jérémie Buldabber. Well that was a charming Prince Charming. The Slytherin laughed again under his breath. What would be my type of men? He hesitated a few instant. Listening to and old senile prat, or listening to his own mind crap? The choice was quick made. His prince would have a crown. Of course he would have a crown, you dumbass… And a sword, evidently. He would have humour and wouldn't be boring. He would be taller than him and have messy short green hair, because why not? Green was a nice color after all. The princes eyes will be as black as the night and his skin will be a light blue. He would glow and smell like cotton candy. he wouldn't be British so he can have a cute accent. Would it be Russian? French? Spanish? Japanese? I do not know, only that it is the cutest thing I have ever heard. Yeah, his voice will sound like heaven. This time, he laughed louder and Pansy and Blaise threw him a killing glance, shushing him. They will probably murder him when Dumbledore will be done talking about his summer vacations and his socks but the thought of a blue prince smelling like candy saving him was worth a laugh. The Slytherin took a piece of chocolate cake that had magically appeared on the table and took a bite out of it. His prince would be a fairy princess. Yes, this is brilliant. He will be called Arnaud and…