Disclaimer: I intend no copyright infringement by borrowing JK Rowling's work. It is merely for my own entertainment - I do not, nor will in the future, profit from it. All characters in the following are Rowling's.
Feast
Draco Malfoy brushed his robes until they were smooth. He glanced back at Crabbe and Goyle, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
"Crabbe, Goyle, hurry up. Dinner is about to start in the Great Hall."
Draco sneered when they perked up at the mention of dinner before returning his attention to the mirror. After making sure every strand of hair was perfectly smoothed out, he left the room.
"Crabbe, Goyle, let's go." They lumbered after him, not bothering to clean up. Draco couldn't help it – he sneered again. "It'll be a wonder anyone but the Dark Lord will be able to stand you, much less hire you." They merely looked at him blankly.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Hurry up, I want to see those stupid Gryffindor mudbloods cry when they find out Slytherin won." He hurried off to the Hall, not bothering to see whether the other two were following or not. "Keep up, you lot!"
Draco managed to snag a seat for himself next to Blaise, nodding in greeting. He glanced at the Gryffindor table as the food appeared. "So where's Potter? Crying in shame that Slytherin won?"
Blaise laughed at the thought of Potter crying. Pansy piped up to answer Draco. "I would think the mudblood, or maybe the Squib, would be crying. They look rather downhearted, don't you think?"
Draco looked back and nodded thoughtfully. "That's right. Maybe now they'll leave in shame." He stabbed his fork into the chicken dinner when Potter walked in.
"Well, look who just walked in. Looks rather peaky. Crabbe, ugh! Watch where you stick your knife!" Draco glared at Crabbe before noticing Potter slide into his seat while trying to avoid the scrutiny when he entered the Hall. "Stupid Potter." Draco stabbed at the chicken harder, nearly snapping the fork's tines off.
"Quiet, Dumbledore's here." The Hall hushed as Dumbledore walked over to the podium and looked over the mass.
"Like I care. Inform me later if he has anything of importance to say." Draco sniffed before continuing on his chicken. He glanced out of his eye, smirking at the Gryffindors' depressed mood and Blaise's boredom. He faintly heard Dumbledore congratulate his House and banged his goblet in response. He turned and saw Potter's unhappiness, grinning even more. Dumbledore's next words made him pale, though.
" – few last minute points –" Draco narrowed his eyes and hissed.
"Weasley? The mudblood? POTTER? The Squib!" He nearly howled in rage. "My father will hear of this!"
He glared at Dumbledore before glaring at the Gryffindors, who were celebrating – along with the rest of Hogwarts.
"I knew Dumbledore favored those stupid Gryffindors, but this isn't right! Last bloody minute points! I'll kill him!" Draco slammed his fork on the table and started to rise, but Blaise and Pansy managed to hold him down.
"Draco, hold it! Your father won't be happy. Let your father take care of it."
Draco seethed before taking his fork to stab at the chicken. "Fine, but next year, Potter won't stand a chance."
By the time dinner was over, Draco's chicken was unfinished and a pile of mush.
A/N: reviews not necessary but welcomed nonetheless.