Alone again. Nothing new there though. He seemed destined to spend his whole life that way, close to nobody. Oh, he had those two morons who followed him around and obeyed his orders but you could hardly call them friends, not really. They were more like vicious but obedient dogs than human beings. It certainly wasn't possible to hold a proper conversation with either of them. All he could do was bark commands at them, they got confused if he asked politely or tried to be nice to them. A Malfoy wasn't meant to be nice. Ever. He shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position on the hard window ledge. Window ledge! That was a joke! Holes in the wall more like. If anybody had asked him what he thought he would remember most about Hogwarts when he left he would have to say the coldness. Being a Slytherin meant spending a lot of his time in the dark, drafty dungeons. Not exactly the warmest place to be. Especially in the depths of a harsh Scottish winter when the wind howled around the castle and the snow piled up against the walls. It sometimes fell in through the narrow slots cut high up in the stone walls that passed for windows here. Of course, proper windows were out of the question in a dungeon. After all, what if a prisoner escaped through one? He did think they could have at least put glass in them though. Or they could have used a sealing spell to stop the wind, rain and snow blowing through. They shouldn't have to sit in their common room wrapped in their cloaks and shiver. Even the fire roaring in the large stone fireplace did nothing to warm the frigid air. There were actually regular fights over who would sit closest to its meager warmth. Pansy Parkinson had sprouted thick hair all over her face after trying to intimidate Millicent Bulstrode into giving up her place in front of it. Draco shook his head in amazement. He wouldn't have believed even Pansy could be that stupid if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. His laughter had kept him warm for a few short moments but he had soon gone back to huddling over the fire (which he almost always managed to secure a place by) and shivering. The unlucky ones relegated to the back of the common room usually stripped their beds and sat wrapped in the covers while they did their homework. It was even colder sitting on this window ledge but he didn't want to move, he wasn't in the mood to face either Pansy fawning all over him or Crabbe and Goyles stupidity at the moment. Why was everything in his life rubbish? His father was so far up Voldemorts arse that Draco was surprised he could still move independently of him. His mother cared about nothing but her standing in society, his so called friends were complete morons and he lived in a dungeon for most of the year. Perfect, just perfect! Sod the things he'd like. Who needed warmth anyway? Who needed intelligent life forms around them? Apparently not a Malfoy. No, it seemed Malfoys were destined to spend their lives unloved and unlovable, cold and, even when surrounded by others, completely alone.