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I like to be sulky

I like being vile

I like to make you angry, I like it all the while

I like to know that you're hated, it makes me smile

But I don't like you, I don't like you, I don't like you

Not You Again- Imogen Heap

It had been nearly two years since he had been home for Christmas. His last Christmas was one not to remember. Ever since Draco could remember, every free holiday or break he had from Hogwarts was spent at the castle, except for the summer vacation. Going home to that vast and lonely mansion was not an option. Two years ago, when he was fourteen after attending the Yule Ball, Draco had dreaded going back home. His mother and father had set up a grand ball at the manor, (one of the reasons that his father wanted to supply him a pureblood bride) had ended up in a disaster. Lucius Malfoy had made sure that the ballroom was set up in nothing but gold and silver. All the Christmas trees around the house had been set up , thanks to the hundreds of house elfs he had hired to make sure everything was set up right. Draco's mother had begged him to come down stairs the night of the party, pleading that her husband would be upset if he did not attend. Draco refused and fell back asleep.

About an hour later, his father came storming in his room. Draco awakened with fright and anger at the same time.

"Come down to the party boy, a lot of important people and I will not tolerate this childish behavior."

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at his father. "Sod off, I don't feel like fucking going. All those wizards down there are just here so they can kiss your ass and want a promotion."

Lucius stared at his soon. A scowl appeared on his face. Before Draco could react, his father grabbed his wand and yelled out

"Crucio!".

Draco froze, he knew what was coming.

A second later, white-hot pain enveloped his body, causing him to fall out of his bed and wriggle in pain.

"You're going to regret this, boy." And with that, his father walked out of his room.

Now, in the present, it was one of the most horrible memories Draco had ever endured. He scowled and kicked a lone pebble on the sidewalk towards the lake. He had nothing to do. Ever since the beginning of the year, he had become a loner. Crabbe and Goyle were idiots, and he had parted ways with the. He would rather be alone then call those pair of idiots friends. Draco sat down by a tree and stared at the lake. Even though he was bundled up in his jacket and his beanie, he was still cold but he didn't want to be back inside.

He threw a stone into the frozen lake, watching it skid across the ice. His childhood was a lonely one, his father was never home, and his mother was to absorbed in her vanity and glamour to ever remember she had a son.

One Christmas, when he was about four, he had asked his mother and father for a little brother or sister. His parents laughed at him and ruffled his white-blonde hair, and instead presented him with a pony. Even though he had not received what he wanted, Draco loved the pony and named it Moonbean.

Draco adored the animal, and did everything himself, he combed the pony's black shiny coat of hair, and fed it every morning and afternoon. He became and excellent horseback rider at the age of eleven. One night when he was playing in his father's study, he accdiently broke one of his father's collectible Slytherin items. His father had a huge fit and threatned to take away Moonbeam. Draco pleaded with his father, but his father refused. The next day when Draco had his bucket full of carrots to feed Moonbeam, he discovered that her stall was empty.

Draco sat in the stall for a long time in the freezing cold. It was the first time in years that he actually cried.

Draco shook his head and slid off his beanie. Why was he remembering such childish things? It was the past and he couldn't change it. But the truth was that he felt lonely. It was a horrible feeling, in the pit of his stomach. It was tugging at hime and wouldn't let go.

Sure, he would entertain himself, making fun of Granger every chance he got, along with Potty and Weasel. He smirked.

Granger thought she owned the place; she was every teacher's pet, with the exception of Snape. Over the years, their taunts between each other became more frequent as time passed by. He would laugh in Weasley's face when he turned red trying to defend Granger.

He got a kick out of Granger by riling her up. He still remembered that night of the Yule Ball, when she came walking in with the idiot, Viktor Krum. She looked beautiful that night, and he couldn't deny it. Pansy has scowled when she saw his face. As the years went by, Granger actually began to look decent for a mudblood.

Her normally brown hair was now becoming sleeker, in soft full curls instead of the bushy hairstyle years ago. Her figure was becoming more sleek and slender, but still with curves. Her teeth were no longer so big, as he assumes she had her long front teeth filed, into a small delicate smile. His Slytherin mates would laugh in face if he admitted that the mudbloood didn't look that bad.

Draco slumed further down the tree, his teeth chattering as the cold air hit him.

Above the castle, in the Gryffindor tower, he didn't notice Hermione Granger sitting beside the window seat staring straight down at him.