"So, have you seen the new students yet? There's some in our year!
…Of course you haven't, you only just got here…" One of his friends murmured. They weren't exactly the most clever of people, but then, that's just what he wanted. He wasn't to be shown up by his closest comrades. He must be superior.
As he predicted, the stares came as soon a they entered the long corridor. Gaping faces loomed at the windows to compartments, and whispering soon followed. Every so often he would hear the word 'Murder', the phrases '…disgusting monstrosity…' or 'Dirty, Dark Lord following Scum.' coupled with disgusted looks, and the occasional hand gesture.
His once friends, those belonging to his own house, even threw those hateful words about. They glared at him, even spat at him.
But his face remained as stone. It mustn't get to him, lest he sully his reputation further. He simply carried on walking, looking straight ahead. That is, until a certain dark haired, green-eyed boy came into his view.
"You came back here after what you planned to do? You really are despicable. And I pity you Malfoy."
Draco's eyes remained lifeless and emotionless as he stepped past his adversary and went into a compartment, slamming the door into the stunned faces of his friends. He couldn't handle this, not all year round. He simply wasn't strong enough. He may as well tell his Lord to kill him now. He knew he would fail again.
His eyes started to well up. He shook his head violently and pulled the curtains over the doors. He threw off his cloak, leaving him in his plain white shirt and tie. He paced, before finally settling on the deep green coloured seats, with his knees drawn to his chin.
Alone, he began to weep silently. He leant against the window, his eyes bleary and glass-like, gazing across the room at the gap between the floor and the door. His face was soon drenched, his once pale eyes bloodshot. His fringe had strayed across his forehead, obscuring his left eye. He began to rock gently, shivering, forwards and back, screwing his eyes shut.
He felt so separate, so different from the others. They were high spirited, welcoming the new school year with bright eyes and happy smiles. They don't need to worry like he does. They knew and cared little of the weight that he carried. They don't have to fear every turn, they don't have to watch their backs, receiving unmarked letters doesn't instil terror into their hearts as they do his.
Sub-consciously he began to trace the thin white scars with one finger. All the way down his left cheek they ran, and down, down onto his chest. He could never trace them past there, the mass of criss-crossing lines that covered his body an unfathomable labyrinth. Only his limbs were spared, and the majority of his face. The pain was fresh in his mind, as was the memory. He remembered seeing the blood, everywhere, blood, pools of it. His life spilt all over the dirty floor. His blood.
He recalled the frantic scrabbling, the violent convulsions, and those green eyes. Those terrible green eyes. They stared at him, just watching. He saw panic in those eyes, dread even. And was that… a hint of vindictive pleasure?
His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of hushed voices outside the door. He heard Potters' voice along with that know-it-all mudblood. His blood boiled. How dare they come here and even contemplate interfering with him?! He wiped his face, though it did little good, as soaked as it was. Tears clung to his eye-lashes and had given his eyes a watery appearance. He brushed his hair out of his eye angrily, and stood up. Slowly he crept closer to the doorway, listening intently to the sounds on the other side.
"You shouldn't have said that Harry! Even I realise what he is being put through! Don't you realise he is being forced to do this?!" The mudblood was talking about, or more accurately, defending him.
"I don't care what he is being put through! This is Malfoy we're talking about here Hermione! I don't know why you are trying to justify his actions, but you need to stop! Do you remember the snide comments? The Curses? He tried to kill Dumbledore!" It was Harry now, on hearing his name, his suspicions were confirmed; they were talking about him. "He deserves anything he gets!"
He exhaled, he didn't need Grangers' help. He didn't want it. Why would she defend him anyway? He had never been nice to her, he didn't warrant it, and he could definitely live without it.
Using his sleeve his wiped his eyes, inhaled deeply, then pulled open the door.
Harry and Hermione looked straight at him, taking in his barely damp face, his near bloodshot eyes. He smirked, a futile effort to lessen the effects of his tears.
"Talking about me?" He said in an infuriatingly arrogant voice. He leant against the doorframe in a particularly suggestive pose.
"So what if we are? Why should you care?" Harry spat, glaring at him.
"Harry and I, were just discussing whether or not he should apolog-" Hermione began.
"Shut up Mudblood. I don't care what you have to say." Draco cut her off, sneering down at her. Turning his attention back to Harry, he questioned.
"So, tell me. What is it that makes you stand out here arguing over little old me?"
His maddening smirk had returned to his face, the perfect mask to his sensitivity. He shook his hair from his face once more, all the while staring intently at Harry, awaiting his reply.
"We weren't arguing about you, we were simply debating. And now we are finished. Come on Hermione." With that, Harry stormed off down the corridor glaring at those he passed.
Smiling, Draco watched him disappear into another compartment before continuing.
"Granger. You should think twice about defending me in future." He pulled her face close to his and looked her straight in the eyes. They looked back, filled with anger, fire.
"Why?" Defiant as ever, she scowled up at him. "I thought you could do with it, since everyone else seems intent on 'bitching' about you. It seemed you were rather helpless. The damp, bloodshot eyes, dishevelled hair, not to mention that your shirt sleeve is wet where you wiped your face." She smirked, searching his face and listing the various signs. "You can't hide the effects of tears you know Draco…" Her voice softened slightly.
Draco once again pulled her close to his face so as to have her full attention. Seeing his face at this close proximity, Hermione finally saw the real Draco, and it shocked her. She took in his pale grey eyes, seeing for the first time the closely guarded emotions lying beyond.
Before releasing Hermione, Draco kissed her jaw, a look of pure revulsion formed on her face as she stood, frozen in shock. He paused by her ear and whispered.
"I have never needed you, nor will I ever, Mudblood. Though, all of this, it does beg the question…"
With that, Draco stepped back into the doorway of his cabin. Smiling, he winked at her and shut the door, leaving a confused and horrified Hermione in his wake.
Cheered, he grinned to himself. Oh, how he loved to mess with peoples' minds. They were so easy to manipulate, even now she was probably doubting every thought she had ever had about him. To charm Potters' little mudblood whore, that would certainly add some humour to his year. Know-it-all bitch, how she would regret that assumption. Helpless, Draco Malfoy?