Potter

For Draco, it was bittersweet finally meeting Harry Potter. Because for Draco at eleven years old, there had been no one close to being as special as he than Harry Potter, who possessed his own brand of a magical gift.

In retrospect, later in Durmstrang, Draco knew it wouldn't have been possible. His friends had told him all about the boy. He was described as arrogant, self absorbed and a Weasley lackey. He was a true Gryffindor through and through, they would say; Always breaking rules, pulling pranks, and being an insufferable prat to Severus.

Draco would even ask his godfather about Potter to get a kick out of the Sev's reaction: pursed lips with an eye twitch that would be hard to recognize had you not known Severus.

However seeing those eyes, Draco wasn't thinking about the Potter that had lost the opportunity to be Draco Malfoy's friend, he was seeing the man that had turned his gift into a curse.

And Draco now knew that Lucius had always known.

Potter's eyes were a vivid emerald, not the sepia color he had seen in newspapers nor the generic green shade he pictured from Pansy's description. And it seemed that everyone had been preoccupied with the lightning bolt shaped scar as Potter's most distinguishable feature, but Draco didn't even register it on Potter's face. Everything else seemed to blur.

As captivating as they were, they were also the eyes of the tormentor that corrupted all thoughts of the future for Draco.

"Please." Potter spoke. Those eyes were meeting Draco's, pleading with him. "I know who your father is and I'm sure you know how connected our families are." Draco heard a snort come from his lackey, who Draco now suspected to be a Weasley hidden beneath glamour. Yet, Draco did not follow what Potter was saying. They were somehow connected beyond his visions? Thinking back on it, it was almost suspicious how Potter's name never came up with his parents. Yet, Draco had never pieced it together.

Potter turned his head back and gave the goon a reproachful look, who effectively tucked his tail between his legs by looking away.

Potter turned back to him, determined. "I know there is no motivation to help us. You would benefit even, if You Know Who wins because of your dad."

Somewhere in that mess of a line, Draco's dread turned into annoyance, he just stared at Potter. Potter knew nothing of nuances or speaking between the lines, or simple bartering. He was trying to appeal to him by showing sincerity, Draco could tell, but was failing miserably. They were in for a rude awakening.

Potter seemed to sense he was approaching the situation with Draco incorrectly and started backpedaling. "Bullocks. Look, you are our only hope, please help us, yeah?"

The dread of meeting the man in his nightmares, the excitement of meeting Harry Potter and the disappointment in finding that Potter was only a bumbling idiot, made him vulnerable. He felt a an ache in his temple and a pressure filled his ears. He had let his occlumency shields slip.

He needed to remember, to clear his mind, to get away from the room before new thoughts came and he needed to calm down before—

As soon as the thought interrupted him, Draco started seeing fire as if it was enveloping the room. He could not smell it nor feel any heat, but instead, his hands became stiff with cold and he started losing his breath. Potter had stepped back as the metal statue behind him started to scream as it melted, but no one was paying attention because Draco was the only witness.

He tried to picture flying above Wiltshire, above the Malfoy Manor, going through the gardens, but now even with his eyes closed and thinking of his safe haven, even that started to become enveloped with fire.

And then he saw black.

He came back to reality with the bushy haired girl hovering over him as she turned her wand away and towards the ground.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her tone was concerned. Meanwhile, Potter seemed to be panicking behind her, Boor was reading through some scrolls, completely unconcerned with the going ons in his office, and the goon was sneering at him from his seat across the room near the door.

"Did you have a vision?" Potter asked, with a hit of awe, Draco detected.

"No, I –" His voice came out as a croak, "I did not. Now if you don't mind, I have to get back to my studies." Draco stood up and adjusted his ruffled up robes. He straightened his hair and felt the cold sweat on his forehead. He was usually very meticulous and it was an embarrassment to have lost control of his body and his mind in the presence of others.

"Headmaster Boor, please." Pleaded the girl as Draco made his way out the room and touched the handle.

It seemed that Boor was not one to interfere, washing his hands of helping the trio any further. And Draco couldn't be more appreciative of that.

As he started to clear the door behind him, he heard the nasty voice of the boy not Potter. "Fucking ponce. You saw how he started crying for his mum back then? What a coward. See I told you-"

On second thought, Draco stopped.

Piece of shite called him weak. Weak am I? Draco smirked, in spite of the fact he was still shaken.

Screams and shouts followed as Draco closed the door after using sectumsempra, which according to Severus's journal, was a stronger version of Diffindo.

If only Draco could see what exactly it did to the git. Maybe he'd come clean about seeing the visions of fire, which was a trivial fact really. In exchange he would ask for the memory bottled up… for research purposes.

Next time, Draco thought grimly, he would not be pushed into a corner and surely, they would now know what they would have known had he gone to Hogwarts.

He was not a nice guy.