It started the moment her mudblood skin connected with my face. The nagging feeling at the base of my throat.

You see, in the millisecond it took for me to register her fist, I knew I'd feel something, other than the usual discomfort of being punched, like a common peasant, of course.

Suppose I'd have uncontrollable itching?

Contract some sort of rash?

( my father always said mudbloods were a disease.)

Hell, I half expected my perfect pureblood face to turn to stone.

She looked at that moment how I had imagined Medusa to look; hair wild, tangled and sizzling with magic, her eyes blazing with hot rage,

the tears in the corners somehow only managing to make them look fiercer

(Professor Burbridge the muggle studies teacher would have been glad to hear, the first comparison I drew was some sort of mythical, muggle story)

I would never have imagined then, that what I would contract from the crazy bitch was much worse than some sort of skin condition.

Yes, I'd take face fungus any day rather than have that unspeakable feeling shoved down my throat.

Losing to a mudblood.

Pathetic.

I'm not exaggerating when I say I scrambled away from that scene faster than the Weasel swallows (which is a feat, I assure you).

With a swollen jaw, a slightly, trampled pride, and the most intense knowing.

Knowing with all of my flawless being that my father had lied.

This bushy-haired, self-righteous, know-it-all with blazing eyes and the best right hook I'd ever witnessed (Salazar the girl'd beat Goyle in a fist fight.) Was not weak, she was not stupid, and if I didnt watch my back, I'd almost definitely be trampled into the dirt.

She's the sort who'd do it just for the Irony.

It's a strange thing. Knowing your father was wrong about something.

Made you second guess everything else you knew about life.

Second guessing is dangerous.

Danger is for Gryffindors..

And fuck it all I, am a Slytherin!
Slytherins,

are NOT Gryffindors.

Slytherins know to stay away from danger..

I Draco Malfoy am most definitely NOT a Griffindor.

I ignore the nagging.


At one point, (late at night of course cause this is where all story ideas start.) I found myself thinking,

Malfoy is so very full of himself, would he really truley believe Hermione to be no better than dirt after she bested him?

wouldn't a part of him automatically put her in a category of "oh well, she's strong so its not like I'm weak..." then at the same time be denying the whole thing ? so here he is.. his pride and ego, clashing with his upbringing and views.

anyway this is my second fanfic and, the one of the first times I've ever shared a story I have wrote so don't go too hard on me.

but also please review :).

- Skittles116