Draco snarled and stood up, brushing off his Slytherin cape. Damn Potter, he thought and grimaced, the pain in his arm growing with every second the engorgement charm was upon it. He could hear Potter, Granger and the Weasel laughing at him, and he glanced at his arm, but the moment he did he felt off balance.
"I…uh …oh…ow…" he yelped, falling over again. His arm was now so big he'd fallen on top of it, his legs dangling in the air.
"Had enough yet Malfoy? Or you just want to, hang around for a while longer?!" Ron snorted.
He heard them dissolve into screams of laughter and walk off.
"Crabbe. Goyle, you useless oafs; get your fat butts over here and get this charm off me." He yelled angrily.
Draco was fuming. He'd always hated Potty and the Weasel, but damn it all if Weasley wasn't turning into a half bad wizard, even with that second rate stingy piece of firewood he called a wand.
"That damn weasel," he said, his breathing ragged, "he thinks he's so good." He looked at Crabbe and Goyle and shook his head, "useless." He said muttering. "Well come on then, and not a word to anyone you hear." They only nodded in agreement, and began plodding after him. God how he hated that trio, Potter and the weasel and especially that filthy little mudblood, come to think of it, especially all of them. He kicked a stone and winced. Why was it always he who got embarrassed, why they always managed to get the better of him, he could not figure it out. What made them so bloody special? He stopped and sat down, Crabbe and Goyle, still trailing behind made to sit as well.
"Shove off you two," he yelled at them, "I'm trying to think and I can't have you two clumsy fools clogging up the airwaves. I'll meet you back in the common room." They looked at each other and moved off.
"I just need to think." Draco decided.
Sitting on a rise in the hill, Draco saw the sun dip over the horizon, and watched the squid flailing it tentacles around. Stupid git, he grunted, smirking.
When he was younger, Draco had doubted whether he would ever live up to his father's expectations. His first let down, though out of his control, was being accepted to Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang. Oh, how his father had pushed and pushed for Narcissa to send him there, yet she would not hear of it. So, Hogwarts it was. And it was terrible, what a style cramp. He thought back to the first day he'd put on the sorting hat and the horrible song it had sung in his ear.
"A Malfoy here, Have we?
But what house to put thee?
For Slytherin would surely be best,
Yet Bravery beats beneath your chest
Gryffindor, would suit your needs
But what's this? A desire for greed,
Then Ofcourse; it must be,
SLYTHERIN is the house for thee!"
He shuddered at the thought. He had never told anyone that, and he never planned to. Imagine he, a Malfoy, being placed into Gryffindor, with all those goody-two shoes, it made him want to wretch. He smiled again, yes, he was a pureblood Malfoy, If not the slightest bit evil, but then…his smile faltered, why did he have to keep reassuring himself about that? He was also annoyingly cowardly at times, but then he would never admit that to anyone either. He got up and began to move down to the common room. Damn Potter he thought, kicking each stair as he tread upon it. I will get him; One day, I will get that stupid boy.