"Remind me to obliterate those bloody idiotic pigs as soon as I am off this fucking train Blaise…" I muttered darkly, glaring at a particular Hufflepuff second year, that little girl almost pissed her pants as she ducked back into her compartment.
Obviously that Hufflepuff had heard of one of the many dangerous tales of me---how pathetic.
Well not all are made up… a whispering thought sighed
And not all are true! One thought hissed perilously
"Don't insult the pigs Draco." Zabini grinned at both the Hufflepuff's reaction and his little joke.
After a few lousy quiet minutes, we arrived at the doorway, only to be greeted with people that are less deserving of their titles than everyone else. I hated them and they hated me, it was a very well known fact.
Granger, from the obvious hints that I received from her scum-like badge, was the Head Girl. From the very first moment I saw her walking through the barrier and onto the platform I knew she was a pathetic revolting mudblood.
The beaver was lost and alone then, but now as she stood angrily in front of me, I knew she had changed, from bad to just plain worse. Her was bushy fuzzy brown hair, didn't smoothen as it grew out, like everybody expected, but now resembled a pathetic mesh of fraying, brown wire.
The once chocolate brown eyes that were usually bright and happy, much to my loathing, were clouded over, full of sorry and helplessness. Her face and figure hadn't changed either, except granger was a lot thinner than I had expected and all over her face showed that she had aged years in seconds.
She didn't 'bloom' into a beautiful woman like many others had foretold, but just like in the first year, Hermione Granger was and still is a lowly, mudblood bookworm.
Potter wasn't much better.
He wore a badge too; I guess 'Perfect Potter' had actually become the Gryffindor Prefect. What was so perfect about Scarhead anyway? His whore of a mother had sacrificed her life for his, it was something about this thing called 'love', but that was what my father had said anyway, and he didn't know what 'love' was too.
Glasses skewed and dark hair repulsively stuck out everywhere like Pot head had just come out of a storm. Lanky, skinny, scrawny, whatever I decided to call him none, nothing suited this wretched and pitiable excuse for a hero.
He too hadn't changed since first year, well since I made him my disagreeable foe, his emerald or puke-green eyes were glossed over and hostile, but his face was more gaunt this year, so was the rest of him.
I don't know what Granger saw in this loser, since they were holding hands for their dear 'precious' lives.
"Oh my, call the Daily Prophet, Scarhead has finally chosen between Weasel and Beaver. But seriously Potter, how did you choose between a bookworm mudblood and a poor pathetic rodent? It must have been hard to make a decision though; they both look like pussies." I drawled in a low, murky tone.
"We're not together Malfoy, and just for the record, we may look like pussies, but you are one!!" Granger screeched, dropping Potter's hand like a hot coal.
"You just realize that you insulted yourself, whilst attempting to insult myself." I replied smoothly, flicking a hardened smirk to the feeble pair.
"Shut it ferret boy." The Head Girl shrieked so loudly that I was certain the member's of the Head/Prefect compartment had blown their eardrums.
"Hey Granger are you trying to sound like a banshee or is that your actual voice?" Blaise cut in before Granger could utter another word and pulled her out of our way, stepping into the compartment.
When I showed my face in the little, clattering room, everyone filed out, Potter still had the door's handle, and he was glaring at me with such disliking I had a sudden urge to make it worse.
Much worse…
"Hey Flower Pot, I bet you heard you godfather scream didn't you? When he died, you know he was always weak, weak and pathetic." I drawled so softly so that only that mudblood, poor-liking bastard could hear me as I slowly closed the door on him.
And with that; he lunged.
I laughed right in his face through the compartment door window.
"Nice call Ice." Blaise snickered, I joined in. Ice was the nice he gave me when we were both five years old, I had always held an icy tone and cut off my emotions then, and still do.
"You did alright yourself Sparky." I smirked grimly at Zabini, when Blaise had thought up Ice as my nickname I knew I had to give one to him. Sparky best suited him at the time and in fact, it still does, Blaise had something I could never show, happiness, he was always bright and energetic, like he was on coffee all the time.
Silence smothered us both until I remember what he had said before we left the other Slytherins.
"Oi Sparky, how was your cruise? And why the hell couldn't you tell the others?" I inquired dolefully, stretching my aching muscular body. After killing three people in one night, furthermore crouching sure makes you sore.
Zabini burst out in a happy, vigorous laugh.
"Well on the second day I discovered Ms. Bookworm in a very disturbing position with one of those Weasely Twins, I think it was Gred or something like that…" he burst out laughing again at the mere thought of the Head Girl letting herself to be in a compromising place.
"Granger? The know-it-all ugly Gryffindor mudblood actually got some?" I replied monotonously, hiding my look of astonishment and replaced it with a true Slytherin disgusted simper.
"Yeah, and the best bit was when I 'accidentally' overheard that guy she was with and her, it turns out she's pregnant!"
"I should have known that Beaver would make a mess of herself with one of those blood traitors, well since you only 'accidentally' overheard, which means we have something on Granger. Is there any proof, I want something to dangle over her bushy dim-witted head." I grinned evilly; this was going to be a very good year after all, better than the one I had planned.
What's better than killing people?
Driving them insane and then killing them…
Oh…
"Yeah, pictures, I had that Gryffindor's camera I stole last year on me and I got my mother's old memory ball to record Granger telling Gred the truth. This is going to be sweet…" Blaise's grin matched mine as he retrieved various pictures and a clouded glass ball out of his pocket.
The memory ball rested on the seat between us, the silver clouds churned around delicately, the ball could only hold one specific memory at a time but the intricate detail and uncanny truth that it showed was perfect for blackmail.
"Yeah have a look Draco, Granger looks and sounds worse on the cruise so what we saw before was a slight improvement." Blaise chuckled and with a tap of his wand and a mutter of words and the clouds in the memory ball stopped swirling and change quickly into a boat scene with two figures in obvious distress.
----MEMORY BALL VISION---
"George, look I know we're going out and everything, but I think we both took it too far in the movie theatre last time…" Hermione Granger whispered; her screeches barely hear over the rumbling of waves.
"Why 'Mi' what's wrong? Did I hurt you?" George Weasely inquired, wrapping his lanky arms around her twig-like waist. Granger wriggled in his grasps before sinking into a very passionate kiss.
"I'm pregnant…" she moaned softly, snapping the Weasely twin out of the embrace.
---END OF MEMORY BALL VISION---
"I wonder how ickle little Weasel face took it." I asked sarcastically, shifting in my large seat slowly.
"Maybe he'll reject the baby and Granger." Blaise grinned with glee at another mere thought influence by his Memory Ball.
"No, look at his family, they'll take the baby, Granger and what ever other lost stranger they can pick up. That lump of lard that the Weasel's have for a mother always wanted more children, frankly I don't really care…" I replied lazily as the speeding train came to an immediate halt.
"We might as well go now Ice, the Great Hall and my food waits. I just hope Crabbe and Goyle don't devourer it all before we reach there." Blaise sighed, standing up and gathering his blackmailing evidence and collecting his cool demeanor.
I nodded in response, following suit but as we both left the compartment, crowds of students had flooded the corridors, eager to escape the bloody train.
"Oh fuck!" Blaise swore loudly, receiving several glares his way.
"Get out of my way mudblood!" I hissed softly, pushing another student out of my way.
"Who died and made you king Slytherin?" one unwise sixth year Gryffindor challenged me as I roughly passed him.
"Last years Head Boy obviously, now everybody move! Head Boy and Prefect coming through! Let us through otherwise I will make sure I, and the rest of the Slytherins will make your life a living fiery hell!" I barked at the top of my voice.
As soon as the other students heard my voice and saw me, they raced to jump out of the way. Fear flushed their repulsive and wretched faces, even the Slytherins stepped away from me, and it was that moment when I knew I could keep up my massacre. It was so easy, I almost began laughing like an insane lunatic or even worse, like Pot Boy.
"Those bastards will never learn…" Blaise muttered darkly behind my back as we pushed our way through the crowds and onto the platform for the last time.