I stare at the boy sitting at one of the massive tables that fills the Great Hall. He chats happily away with his friends, having a whale of a time.
Harry Potter. The Boy Who bloody Lived.
As I watch he throws back his head and laughs cheerily, those ridiculous glasses of his catching the light.
I hate him. So much.
He makes my blood boil. Always getting all the attention: "Oh, poor Harry, his parents died! Lets all worship him because he ACCIDENTILY defeated the Dark Lord!" Those idiots. They don't know SHIT. They don't know that sometimes it's better to have dead parents than ones that don't even acknowledge your existence, parents that treat you with the same respect as a house elf gets. Some people have to suffer silently, rather than shouting about it all the time.
But what really gets me, what really makes me ridiculously angry every time I see him, is that he doesn't like the fame. He honestly doesn't like being known and adored by practically everyone. He doesn't even take advantage of it! He doesn't hang around with decent, powerful pure-blood people. Oh no, he befriends The Mudblood and The Weasel.
Speaking of his (frankly overprotective) friends, they're looking at me now. I automatically rearrange my features into a disdainful sneer. It has the desired effect. Weasley half rises from the bench, as if I just personally insulted him. Granger pulls him back down, hissing short sharp words, surely something along the lines of "He's not worth it!" But Potter, Potter just ignores it. I absently wonder why. He used to care so much when I said or did anything to annoy him. Now he just… blanks it out. When did that happen?
When did he stop caring?
"Draco?" An annoyed voice asks. Pansy. "Were you listening to me?"
God, she's always talking, always wanting me to be focused on her. Just once, could we not sit in silence, thinking? Don't be ridiculous, Draco, I admonish myself silently. That will never happen with Pansy.
"No, sorry. What was it you were saying?"
Pansy grins, happy that she has my attention once more, and begins gossiping about the other students in the school. Merlin, it's only the first day back! How does she already know all this stuff? I suddenly realise I stopped listening again, and so I zone back in, pretending I actually gave a damn about my ignorant schoolmates.
"… But of course, everyone knows that Ginny's in love with Harry."
"What?" I snarl. That blood traitor, in love with Harry? How dare she?
Wait. Why do I care? It's no business of mine whether or not she has a crush on him. It simply bothers me because… because surely the so-called Chosen One should focus on defeating the Dark Lord, not silly little girls.
I relax, happy to have found a reason for my odd behaviour. But still something niggles at me, eating away at my calm.
I decide there's no point staying here for the remainder of the feast. I don't seem to have any appetite today, so the food doesn't appeal to me anymore. I stand, unfolding my long, thin body from the bench I was sitting on.
"Draco? Where are you going?" Pansy again. I feel like retorting harshly, telling her to mind her own business. I don't, of course. I never do.
"It's nothing, I just don't feel like eating anymore," I answer carefully. "I'm going back to the common room."
"I'll come with you!" she bounces up from her seat, like an excitable puppy.
"No!" Careful Draco. Stay polite, stay good, don't let your temper get the better of you. "I mean… I'm okay. You can stay here, catch up with everyone. I'm going to go and lie down. I don't think I'm well."
She looks at me uncertainly. "Well, if you're sure…" Of course I'm sure, you stupid girl! "I'll stay." She sits back down, and I leave the Great Hall with a relieved sigh.
It feels good to be away from the inane chatter of schoolchildren, to be wandering through the empty corridors. I come to the blank stretch of wall that marks the Slytherin common room and pause. What's the damned password again? Oh yes.
"Seperverd." The blank wall slides across to reveal a long room filled with skulls and bathed in a green glow. I walk hurriedly past the collection of chairs gathered around a fire that never seems to lend any warmth or light to the miserable room. Deciding that sitting on my bed in my dormitory would be much more preferable to sitting here, I head to the door across the room and enter it. I begin my way up the winding stone staircase, finally coming to a large forbidding wooden door with a sign on it bearing the words Fovea Serpens, which apparently roughly translates as the snake pit. I guess that was Salazar's idea of a joke.
I enter the room meant for the sixth years, and immediately notice that the lamps are not lit. Oh no…
The darkness creeps over me, infecting my insides with hate and death. The creatures that come alive when night comes scuttle around. They are laughing at me, I know it. I need to light the lamps… but it's too dark and I can't go into that blackness to light them! I can'tcan'tcan'tcan'tCAN'T. I need some light… My wand! I bring it out, but in my haste drop it on the floor, and it rolls away, into the terrifying stillness beyond the small circle of light that comes from the staircase behind me. A sudden gust of wind slams the door shut, leaving me in total blackness. No! No! LetmeoutletmeoutLETMEOUT! Please! Anything but this! I scrabble desperately at the door, but it's made of solid oak, and my thin fingers can't seem to find the doorknob. I collapse onto the floor, and the shadows envelop me, freezing my soul…
