Draco woke early on October the 30th, stretching his arms to the air and letting out an almighty yawn. He scratched his head and stood from the bed and walked toward the window. His eyes were half open an his hair was thrown this way and that. But he knew he'd gotten a good sleep. And he needed it, for today was the first Quidditch match of the season, against the Gryffindors. Oh how Potty Wotty would be surprised if they won the game. For if Gryffindor won, they'd have to answer to the Slytherin team.

Draco didn't know WHY this bothered him so, but he still enjoyed the fact that he'd be flying on his broom again soon. No one knew that he flew on his broom for the sake of sheer enjoyment and the feeling of the wind whipping at his white-blonde hair. No one knew his fedish for flying under the night sky or the basic thrill of just playing his favorite game. Everyone thought he just wanted to win and show off to Potter how much better he was than him and his mudblood, poor, and werewolf spawn friends.

He looked up and out of the window at this thought. Why did he not like them? Was it because Potter was famous and he wasn't and hated him out of sheer jealousy? Was it because although Weasley was poor he still had a family that cared for him and was also jealous of that? Was it because Granger had a future not from her popularity but from her wits? Was it because Lupin had a caring father and he didn't? Was he just merely jealous of all of them and insulted them out of spite and envy?

Or was it because his father raised him to hate muggles, half bloods, poor people, and those with father's of less stature and grateness? This thought made Draco's blood boil with the heat of the sun.

Maybe he should try being nice to them for once...after all. The last thought was true, his father raised him that way. And being that he hated his father with the deepest of passions, he wanted to change his form, his personality, everything, to show his family he wouldn't sink to their pitiful level of greed and malice.

But his ego was telling him it would ruin his popularity. His ego may be loud but the discomforting thoughts of his father hovered in his mind, and they made a good point.

Maybe he SHOULD be nice to them. Maybe he should actually try and be civil and even...he gulped...become FRIENDS with them?

These thoughts hovered so delicately and blissfully in his mind that he didn't even realize he was dressed in his uniform, had his broom and was already going down to breakfast...

Tru wasn't at breakfast, and this grately bothered Hermione. She knew that she had transformed in the night. Harry and Ron knew so too. And they also hated it. They sat there at breakfast, eating slowly and quietly. No one seemed to realize their mournful looks of worry. The air inside the great hall was excited and anxious for the first Quidditch game of the season. Not even Harry could wait. He was already in his uniform. But he WAS disappointed that Tru would not attend.

"Well, I better be heading down to the field, you know how Katie is, now that she's captain!" he said and he rose from the table, his firebolt held tightly in his left hand. Ron and Hermione nodded to Harry and bid him good luck.

When Harry left the hall, he bumped into someone headstrong and almost fell backward. "Sorry!" he said suddenly before looking up at Draco Malfoy. Harry's face suddenly went into a sneer and backed away. Draco's eyes were wide in shock but he straightened up and threw his shoulders back.

This is your opportunity Draco, say something nice to him then walk off.

"Watch where you're going Potter!"

Damn my pride...

He walked away leaving Harry staring after him for a bit. "That bastard." he mumbled before leaving the hall soon after Malfoy and walking over the frosty grounds to the stadium.