(A/N: I just love making Harry evil. No one ever really sees the story from Draco's view, so I figure I have to tell it. He's really quite intelligent, too. You've read all those wonderful spells he throws at Potter. And, you never know, Draco could just have attachment problems, and not want to get close to anyone, for fear they shall be wrenched away from him, like his dear.oops, better not tell you that or might give the story away.)

Later that day, as the scenery grew ever more spectacular, the boat drew closer t the castle of Beauxbatons. Every gathered onto the top deck, trying to catch a glimpse of the French school of magic. Alas, though, the castle would take another day's ride in those horseless carriages to reach. Still, it couldn't hurt to try and see, could it?

Draco was sprawled in a chaise lounge, watching the countryside drift past. He wasn't really thinking about anything, except how the sun felt good on him. It had really been quite some time since he just lay around and sunbathed. He overheard two of the others talking, not Potter and his girlfriend but two of the measly sixth years.

"So how do you think they will sort us so we can attend the classes? Do you think they'll just leave us in our own House groupings?" said that little boy Draco had snapped at earlier.

"No way! That would promote us clinging to each other, and not reaching out to the others at the school," replied a small Asian girl. Her parents were obviously those Muggle psychiatrist things.. "Beside, if we wanted to hang out with our own groups, we could have just stayed at Hogwarts, and not spent all those Galleons to bring us out here."

Frank pondered upon this. "Surely they wouldn't separate us all, and keep us from each other, would they?" he asked anxiously. "That wouldn't be very nice. Not nice at all. I hope they keep us with at least someone from Hogwarts-"

"Stop whining. You'll find out soon enough," Draco barked. "We're about to land, anyways." And with that, he stood up and strolled down the gangplank that no one noticed had dropped, as they were so busy talking amongst themselves. Everyone watched his descent, to see what he could possible do on the ground, as there was no one waiting for them.

The carriage was there in front of him, suddenly appearing from nowhere. Draco kept his calm, but was in fact terribly startled at a humongous horse- drawn horseless stagecoach appearing out of nowhere. Who wouldn't be? The cab was enormous, and covered in gilt like there was no tomorrow. Draco walked up to the carriage, preparing to get in. But before he could, the door swung open of its' own accord. He took this at face value, and decided that the coach was enchanted to act as if it were fully decked out with every servant one could possibly want. He stepped inside, and was wowed by the lushness of it all. All of the seats were covered in velvet, trimmed with gold braid, and none of it was the slightest bit worn. Of course, Draco was used to this at his own home, but wasn't expecting that a foreign school could afford all this.

He didn't let on, though, so Potter obviously just assumed that Draco took this all for granted. "What, is this not good enough for you?" he growled. "Oh yes, I forgot. Rich Boy has all this and more at his mansion. I should've known." Without any further comment, Potter sauntered his way over to the best seat right by the window. "Here, 'Mione. Come over and sit by me. That way we can't have anyone spoil our trip," he said pointedly.

Draco strolled over to an empty chair, purposely ignoring everything that boy said. He meant to keep the chair all to himself, but guess who showed up right at that minute. Pansy.

"Oh, thanks so much for saving this seat for me, dear. I've hardly seen you all this trip so far, and I so want to catch up with you." She blinked as she thought was charming, but really made her look addlepated. "You don't mind that I sit here, do you?"

"Why, actually, I really wanted to sit by mys-," he started to say, but was interrupted by Pansy.

"That's great, dear," she said, not paying any attention to the daggers Draco was throwing with his eyes. "So, what have you done all that time? Surely you didn't stay in your cabin the whole while. That would just not be oodles of fun."

"Actually, I went to bed, then woke up and read the newspaper. I can read, unlike some people I know. Can you read? Yes, I thought maybe you could. Well, in the newspaper, I read some interesting information, that really quite pertains to us as we are going to attend Beauxbatons for a while. I read that a monster has escaped into the French countryside. And do you know what kind of monster it was?" he asked Pansy on the spur of the moment.

"No. What kind? Do you think this colour looks good on my nails? I don't really think so. Hrm. What colour do you think would look good?" she answered distractedly.

He gave up on her limited intelligence. After replying blue to her query, he just sat and leaned against the armrest. He thought about what the boy had said earlier, about the sorting. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he really didn't want to be put with Pansy, as he wondered what he had ever seen in the girl. He couldn't think of it at the moment, and it would probably disgust him when he did. Maybe he would be put with one of the sixth years. That wouldn't be a problem, unless it was that Frank boy. What did he think he was, insulting Snape? Snape had always been kind to Draco, as sort of replacement father for the loving one he didn't have. Hermione wouldn't be so bad, if she toned down her irksome air of know-it-all-ness. She had a tendency to try every spell she encountered, sometimes with disastrous results. One time, he even saw her sprout whiskers, which were actually quite cute, in Draco's unspoken opinion. In fact, everything about her was- he wouldn't let himself finish the thought. If his father ever knew he had an inkling of a liking for a Mudblood, his father would never let him live it down. He might even go after Hermione, and hex her, or curse her family. Lucius had done it before.

The scenery rolled past, but Draco wasn't watching it. He didn't dare look near the window for the dread of the fragmentary thought. Instead, he concentrated on what he was missing at home. He wished he were there, fighting dragons like in the days of lore. Then he could boast, calling himself a real knight. There was one on his coat of arms already, so it wouldn't be that much of a stretch. Some of his ancestors had obviously been slayers, therefore, he had the fighting blood in him. In a burst of spontaneity, he wondered if Potter had dragon-keeper blood in him. That could be why Draco hated him so much.

His thought processes were interrupted by Madame Torte announcing, "We have alighted at Beauxbatons. Please put your feat upon the terra firma, and step out of the carriage."

They had arrived.