July 3rd, 1995

Potter had turned into a ghost, or she may as well have been one considering how little the Slytherins had seen of her after what had happened during the final task of the tournament. Draco Malfoy wasn't necessarily sure how to consider everything that had happened during the week - he'd heard rumour that Potter had fancied Diggory, he'd even heard rumour that Diggory had broken up with Chang to further pursue it...but he honestly hadn't expected Potter to be so distraught with his death. Upset, of course, she'd been close to someone who had died...but to be so haunted by it?

He didn't like that she was so affected by it.

He didn't like she had been so affected by him.

Draco watched her closely as she entered the End of Term feast; she was working hard to avoid the looks everyone was giving her. Draco gave a harsh glare to Daphne Greengrass, who protested lightly before she slid over on the bench, leaving the spot between Draco and she open. This was normally a seat that was saved between she and Theodore, not that Potter regularly took it, but today Draco had decided to sit beside her to give her something else to focus on. Or at least something that he could focus on - he was sick of hearing everyone moan about how much they regretted Diggory's death and of all people he knew he had to get the idea through Potter's head that Diggory wasn't actually anyone important to her. She needed to realize that there were more important things to think about now. Sure, Cedric Diggory probably could have gone without dying, but she didn't have to look like death because of it. Draco had always been so sure she would be smart enough to keep herself from being depressed like this - he had always been sure she would be one of those people who kept in control, like he was.

She walked up to the table and looked at him in shock when she realized that they would be sitting next to one another. He waited, not bothering to be subtle about his interest as she hesitated in taking the seat next to him - he didn't really like that. Normally she would have taken it and bothered him about his reasoning later; now she didn't even want to consider it. He probably should have been more dignified throughout the year; he probably should have been subtle during the Yule Ball, picked more a fight with her before all her tasks, hell - he shouldn't have just offered her to defile his hair - but some things just couldn't be helped around Audrey Potter.

She eventually gave in to herself, sitting next to him stiffly and looking like she was trying to avoid everyone's eyes. Draco knew better, though - she was watching everyone else while she pretended to be ignoring everyone around her. She was clever like that. She wasn't clever enough to try to be invisible, however, and everyone was looking at her; judging her. Even Draco couldn't help himself. She was letting herself deteriorate again; she was so focused on other people's looking at her that she was forgetting to look after herself. He tried to justify that it wasn't pathetic; even though if anyone else had done it, he would have berated them.

"Eat," he ordered, sneering a bit while he took in how small she was. He didn't really understand why he had such a preference to her: she wasn't anything he actually liked. She was far too bossy, far too stubborn, and she was a mess from her tangled hair to her splintered personality. She was so thin that she didn't have any curves, she didn't put any care into her appearance, and she was...delicate. Maybe that's what attracted him physically to her, he supposed. How delicate she was and how strong she could be...but he knew it really came down to those eyes; those observant and clever green eyes that were boring into him with so much thought that it nearly made him thoughtless.

After she seemed to realize that he wasn't going to play around, she picked up her goblet of pumpkin juice and held it in her hands, letting it grow warm with how long she was taking to finish it. Draco wanted to be more unwavering about her eating, but knew that it wasn't as likely as if he had ordered someone else to do it: Potter wouldn't give in to him. This he knew not from those eyes of hers, but from years of trying.

Dumbledore stood at the head table to gather the attention of the entire room. The Great Hall, which was immaculately decorated black in Diggory's memory, wasn't as festive as usual and the Hall silenced faster than ever before. He seemed to acknowledge this and left a long, lingering moment of silence that no one seemed brave enough to break.

"The end of another year," Dumbledore announced, after letting the silence sit for so long Draco had felt uncomfortable. "There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here. He should be enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

Draco stood, nudging Crabbe and Goyle to their feet so that they wouldn't get him in any kind of trouble - he didn't really want to toast the Hufflepuff: he didn't really deserve it. It had been an accident, not a moment of bravery and Diggory had known he had the chance to be killed during the tournament so he hadn't done anything worth celebrating, as they were now doing.

Surprisingly, Potter didn't stand. In fact, Potter didn't even pretend to care to. She raised her goblet, along with everyone else, as they all chanted Cedric Diggory's name - but she did not drink and she did not move.

Draco quickly sat down next to her, watching for any sign that she was about to burst into tears or something equally as terrifying - but she was completely still and unmoved by the grief around her. As much as he knew that it was a pretense, he was glad she wasn't panicking - he'd never seen her do such a thing and he didn't know if he'd be able to control her if she did.

"Cedric was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house; he was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about." The Headmaster took a moment to watch everyone, to let everyone breathe as they got worked up, before he gave them the answer that Draco had feared the entire time. "Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

It couldn't have been true. He refused to believe it. Draco would have known if the Dark Lord had done anything of the sort - his father had openly explained how he wasn't sure if there were any other ways for the Dark Lord to return. Dumbledore continued to speak, but his words weren't really making sense - if He Who Must Not Be Named had returned Draco was sure he wouldn't have been hearing about it in the Great Hall of all places; he would have known some other way, he would have caught on from some other, more reliable source. Were they really going off of Saint Potter's word, here? Harry Potter would do anything for attention and Draco highly doubted that shouting out names of Dark Wizards would have crossed a line for a boy who hadn't warned his sister that she might be eaten by dragons.

"Is it true, Draco?" Crabbe muttered, looking nervous.

"Of course not," he whispered back. "I would have known."

"But-but what if even your dad wasn't told?"

"Impossible," Malfoy said simply. From the corner of his eye, he saw Potter huff beside him. He lowered his voice and gave both Crabbe and Goyle a look to quiet down.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Dumbledore continued. Draco hadn't really been aware that he had continued talking after his last announcement. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

Malfoy snickered, waiting for some kind of joke to be told. They really were just trusting him, then. If Potter's sister were to have said all this, Draco wondered exactly how it would have been taken - probably not this calmly, or this seriously.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued. Draco found his eyes swerving over to the Potter beside him, who looked so nervous that it was as if she were trying to suffocate in her own ridiculously messy hair. He didn't understand why she wasn't furious, why she wasn't picking up what she did: that she was once again being overshadowed by her stupid brother. "He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honour him."

Dumbledore again raised his goblet, but most people at his table didn't stand: particularly people like Greengrass and Nott who looked as flabbergasted as he felt. Potter didn't stand, nevertheless stir, and for a moment Draco felt as if she were finally coming to, as if she were finally waking up from this ridiculous dream-like state she was in; but instead she turned in her seat and raised her goblet to her brother. She didn't drink, but she had honoured him.

She was broken - it was the only explanation for such insane and civil behaviour.

"And you?" Greengrass interrupted the solemn moment, looking from Potter back over to Draco with worried eyes. She seemed to have noticed the change in her friend's personality and was as worried as Draco tried not to admit he felt. "What about you, Audrey?"

"Saint Potter," he hissed in agreement. Potter always thought he was better than anyone: including his own flesh and blood. "He'll even rob a grave for some fame, won't he?"

Potter hadn't even turned to glare at him, but in a moment her grip on the table became white knuckled and in automatic response, every piece of silverware seemed to twist toward him threateningly. He stared at the knives and forks in horror - this was what she had been practicing with Snape, that he knew, but to have guessed she would be so good at it, when she was so bad with everything else? It unnerved him. It made him wonder what would happen if she knew how to control it. Which...didn't seem so impossible considering how the cutlery aimed for him, inching closer. The knife closest to him actually tried to graze his rib. He let out a yelp, picking at the torn material of his shirt as his wide eyes met the youngest Potter's again.

"You're lucky, prat," she seethed, prying her fingers from her death grip on the table. It didn't seem she wanted to threaten him further, she didn't need to threaten him further - her point was well made.

Dumbledore, as always, continued, "-in this hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief - and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst." Dumbledore's eyes examined the hall in front of him, looking for people like Draco who could not pay attention. Could anyone have expected him to? He had nothing good to say about this Diggory. Sure, he'd managed to prove himself as a worthy and very successful wizard, he'd managed to win the Triwizard Tournament - despite the whole 'death' factor - and he'd even managed to woo a Slytherin like Potter...which, Draco would be the first to admit, was the best of his accomplishments. He'd never thought that Potter could be wooed; not after all his own failed attempts.

But to honour him? Draco was more sickened by the thought of Cedric Diggory than anything. Particularly the thought of him with Audrey Potter.

"So remember Cedric," Dumbledore urged. "Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."

No, Draco was quite fine hating and forgetting about him until he understood exactly why he was so special. After all, something had to be quite special about him if he was the only one to have ever really seduced the sharp-eyed and sharp-tongued Audrey Potter.

"She refuses to forgive us!" Daphne groaned, pulling at her curls dramatically. "I don't know what more to do; she won't forgive us. It took me a long time to forgive her, remember-"

"Not that it should have. She didn't do anything wrong," Theodore reminded her with a roll of his eyes.

"So she says; she was the one to put you in danger, Nott. I wasn't just going to forgive that-"

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Theodore grumbled, looking towards the door of the compartment where Draco sat, to the whining girl in front of them, squeezed near the window thanks to being sat beside Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm flattered the judges knew she'd come to rescue me. It means that she is as close to me as I am to her; which is something to appreciate, not judge."

Draco could tell, immediately, that it was the wrong thing to say.

Daphne gritted her teeth, a strange look on her face that Draco couldn't identify with any specific emotion, but he knew that it meant something bad. Girls always had this look when they had caught you in some sort of lie or uncomfortable position.

"And how close are you, Theodore?"

Nott immediately rolled his eyes, right before Draco decided to interrupt the argument for more meaningful conversation.

"Alright, there are more important things to discuss than your imagined romance between Potter and Nott," he said immediately.

"Is there? You're just as sensitive to this as - as any of us," Greengrass hid the jealousy in her voice quite poorly as she tried to correct herself. "And just how do you know it's imagined?"

"Because it is." Nott sighed.

"Because Potter is interested in other people," Draco said immediately, clenching his teeth around the annoying, smug look on her face. "And Nott is far too nice for her tastes; isn't that right?"

"You sound pretty defensive, Draco," Daphne, once angry, smirked knowingly at him. "But you forget, Cedric was a very nice guy."

"She didn't actually fancy that git," Draco sneered, even more upset when Daphne shook her head at him.

"I wouldn't be so sure," she smiled. "I saw them together and they had great chemistry. It was as if Audrey brewed a potion between them; that's how well they worked."

"That's not funny."

"You were just accusing her of fancying Nott," Crabbe frowned in confusion. "Does she fancy them both?"

"No, she doesn't," Draco sneered. "She doesn't fancy either of them; understand? You should be much more kind to her, considering how she saved you from Montague's advances, Greengrass."

Daphne, immediately, sobered. She even had the nerve to look a bit ashamed.

"It's not that I don't appreciate it," she began quietly, looking out the window to hide the blush that was crawling up her neck. "It's just a little bit much to take considering everything that's happened, isn't it? You didn't hear how angry she was, Draco - she was so quick to blame and I didn't know how to take it - of course I was angry! But now that I look back...I may have been a little...harsh."

Theodore scoffed, looking away from her bitterly. "You were immature."

"So was she!"

"She was a little preoccupied with other things besides your envy, Daphne," he bit back.

"Envy?" her face was now burning red, her eyes looked almost tearful with frustration. "What did I have to be envious about? That's ridiculous!"

And then both of them were so uncomfortable that they had nothing more to say. It was a wonderful change. There was a moment when Draco thought about interrupting the silence to cut through the tension, but instead he decided that he didn't want to relieve the strain between them. Those two had deserved this awkwardness for how they had treated Potter in the first place. No, he hadn't necessarily taken her side...but if that had happened to him heads would have rolled.

Just as the awkward air was suffocating them and seemed too much to bear, Draco saw Montague stalk past his compartment. He looked ready to kill: shoulders slumped, jaw clenched and his wand drawn. He ignored Draco's eyes as he slithered down the corridor...and Draco had a strong idea exactly who he was limping towards.

Daphne froze in her seat beside Goyle, Theodore sat up a bit straighter so he could follow Montague's movements as long as he was in sight...Draco, however, was not about to be so passive. Instead, Draco felt himself stand and move to the compartment door, mostly before he could even realize that he had done it. Then, with a grip on his wand, he stalked Montague down the hall. He watched him carefully; Montague was checking the compartments one-by-one, hunting for his prey. Crabbe and Goyle had followed Draco like the loyal lapdogs they were; he was comforted by their presence as much as he was upset that he wouldn't be credited for the intimidation he could cause on his own. He wanted to deal with Montague on his own. Especially as it wasn't hard to imagine what his prey may be, it wasn't hard to imagine what had made him so angry considering his limp - but still Draco followed. He followed until Montague, looking furious, stopped in front of one of the very first compartments in the front of the train.

Montague hadn't gotten to open the door, he hadn't even gotten a moment to try intimidating those behind the glass of the compartment before Draco was descending on him like a plague.

"You should leave," Draco suggested firmly. "You have no business here."

"That's where you're wrong," Montague informed, trying to keep his calm demeanour and failing. "I have certainly more business than you, loverboy."

"With who?" Draco looked into the compartment - he wasn't surprised by who was there, but he clenched his jaw when he saw Audrey Potter nearest the door. She hadn't noticed them; instead she looked completely enthralled with a jar of something or other. "I think that battle was already won, don't you?"

"It hasn't even been fought!" Montague raged. "She burnt me!"

"She corrected your behaviour," Malfoy argued again. "I hardly think that a criminal offence."

"Your lines are very blurred," Montage hissed. "Or is it that she distracts you enough to make the lines waver?"

Draco looked to Montague darkly, taking a step forward and getting so close that even Montague took a step back away from the compartment window. "This is when you leave."

He didn't actually look concerned; he looked vengeful. He looked from Malfoy to the compartment and back again before shaking his head, finalizing some kind of decision in his thoughts.

"That's fine," Montague sounded unnerved, but upsettingly determined. "I have all next year."

"I'll see you then," Draco promised, trying to inform Montague without so many words that he would not let him hurt the girl. He didn't really know when he had become so protective of her; maybe it was after she had been through everything during this tournament...or maybe it had been after she had finally showed how true she was to the Slytherins by saving Greengrass. He wasn't sure...but he wasn't about to ignore the urge. Luckily, he didn't have to repeat himself because Montague got the insinuation easily, looking from the compartment back to Draco with raised eyebrows before he strutted away, his limp surprisingly less noticeable than the steam that could have been rising from his ears.

Draco turned to the compartment, their words finally becoming recognizable as he heard the redheaded girls' voice rise above the others.

"Ew!" She sneered. "You're lucky bugs don't recognize fashion sense!"

"Wait-" her brother held out his hand, interrupting her as he always did; silencing her thoughts as he always tried. "There was a beetle on the statue the night we heard Hagrid telling Madame Maxime about his mum!"

"Exactly," Hermione nodded. Ah, without needing any reference Draco knew exactly what they were referring to - so, someone had finally caught on to Rita Skeeter's little eavesdropping scheme. He could only hope it had been Audrey who'd noticed it, but he highly doubted it thanks to Granger's vivid explanations. "And Viktor pulled a beetle out of my hair after we'd had our conversation by the lake. And unless I'm very much mistaken, Rita was perched on the windowsill of the Divination class the day your scar hurt - it followed you out while you left to see Dumbledore. That's probably how she caught up with Audrey, too. She's been buzzing around for stories all year."

"When we saw Malfoy under that tree..." said Ron slowly.

"He was talking to her, in his hand," Hermione mimicked a motion of talking into a cupped hand so that I understood. Draco well remembered talking to Skeeter about all the happenings of the tournament - even that horrible moment where he'd mistakenly defended Audrey Potter; even if just for a moment - Skeeter had noticed. She always noticed little weaknesses like that. He just wished she would have written about it... "He knew, of course. That's how she's been getting all those nice little interviews with the Slytherins. They wouldn't care that she was doing something illegal, as long as they were giving her horrible stuff about us and Hagrid."

"That bastard! As if him defending me wasn't bad enough," Potter, the one he preferred, made a face that he wasn't necessarily happy with. "He did it while looking clinically mad?"

"Why did he defend you, did you ever find out?" Her brother, the other Potter, seemed even less happy with the idea than his sister did, which made Malfoy a little happier in general. Still, he couldn't deny he was upset that she had nothing to say about it. Would she have been so bitter if she knew how he had just defended her? Is that what she looked for in men like Diggory - stupid qualities like nobility?

"Ugh, please. I will never understand the inner workings of that lizard's mind. So, what are we going to do with her? Burn her, squish her, feed her to Hedwig, let Circe chase her? I personally think those lasts are viable options-"

"I've told her I'll let her out when we get back to London," The Mudblood frowned at Potter as if she was in the wrong. Malfoy was more than ready to discredit her, but couldn't help his interest in listening further, waiting to hear exactly what else Potter might have had to say about him. "I've put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can't transform. And I've told her she's to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can't break the habit of writing horrible lies about people."

Potter continued with varying ideas on what would be best for Rita Skeeter, Draco's favourite suggestion consisted of his own consumption of her, and that was when he decided he wasn't really intent on listening to whatever insults Audrey Potter had to say about him - he liked that she was in a better mood than he'd seen her all week. He wanted a moment to be a part of it.

"Very clever, Granger." Draco's voice made Potter wince and he could only hope that it was with some kind of guilt - that maybe she hadn't meant to say all those insulting things she had. Maybe it had been some kind of mob mentality, considering she was sitting with Gryffindors again. Still, Potter turned to him with a steady gaze, which made him start think that maybe she did want to insult him, but he was glad that they were grating on each other's nerves. See? She couldn't have cared about Diggory too much if she was so preoccupied with him.

He took a few steps into their compartment, just to fill up the space and distract little Potter from the worries that were playing through her mind - he could see their subtle tune at the back of her eyes. He could only hope she might feel a little more comfortable with some Slytherins around, or at least with some kind of argument to distract her mind from itself. "So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."

Crabbe and Goyle laughed as if he had said something extremely funny. Both Potter's sneered.

"I would leave before I force you to," he raised an eyebrow to his fellow Slytherin, who looked angry but not very convincing. Instead, he turned his glare to the other Potter.

"Trying not to think about it, are we?" Malfoy was glad his voice came out so condescending and made sure his eyes did not stray to Potter's sister, who he knew was much more fragile than the boy in front of him. "Are you trying to pretend it hasn't happened?"

"Get out," Saint Potter ordered. He even took the time to stand and head off face to face with Draco - something that he had been waiting to have happen for quite some time. He couldn't enjoy it as much as he'd always expected to in his daydreams, considering his sister, sat between them both, looked so frustrated and nervous at the display. She was wringing her hands as if they were hurting her and Malfoy couldn't help but look down to them worriedly - he had heard that people who used Magnuse did this before they commonly lost control of themselves...and he didn't trust his housemate that much.

"Malfoy, I will do worse than turn your cutlery on you if you don't leave right now."

"You've picked the losing side, Potter; I warned you." Malfoy explained, looking from her wringing hands back to her brother; just so that he wouldn't have to bring attention to the fact she looked like she was falling out of her own control. If anything would make her angry, it would be questioning her at a time like this. "I told you that you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met the first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this! Too late now, Potters. They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back. Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well...well, second. Diggory was the f-"

Draco hadn't even been able to stop speaking before there was a hand clamped around his throat. For a moment he dared to think that Potter had finally got up the gall to corner him like he'd always expected of the Gryffindor - but the hand around his throat was far too small and far too hot to be something so simple: no, he'd pissed off the only person that could kill with a simple flick of her fingers...the same fingers which were now clenched dangerously around his throat.

"If you ever-" Potter whispered, her voice low and unlike any tone he'd ever heard from her, "and I mean ever so much as utter his name again, I will personally see myself escorted to Azkaban while your parents escort you into the ground. Cedric Diggory was twice the man you've ever spoken to and one hundred times the man you will ever be. If you are ever disrespectful to him like you were today, I will rip your intestines out with my teeth. Do you hear me?"

That wasn't true; Draco refused to believe what she was saying to him. Potter had respected him once, a few years ago, when she still didn't know of the rivalries and the difference between what was important and what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear that everything was okay and the truth was, Draco couldn't give that to her; not when he knew the Dark Lord may have, in fact, come back.

He wasn't willing to make any promises. Especiallyto someone the Dark Lord would want dead.

"Let go of me." He demanded.

"No," she said simply, sounding as if she was concentrating very hard on not hurting him - he wasn't about to say anything that might distract her from that focus, considering he wasn't exactly excited to be maimed. She was definitely intent on something; she was lost in her own thoughts, controlling her own impulses. Then, very briefly, Draco watched as her eyes flickered down, as her cheeks started tinting red...her eyes flickered up to his again; confused and furious.

Draco was stunned.

Had Audrey Potter just thought about kissing him?

That's what those signals had always denoted; he knew the look well. But for it to happen now, with her hand grasped around his throat, while threatening him - it confused and thrilled him. After all, it's not as if he hadn't thought of it himself...more than once...and an increasing amount over the past few weeks, since he had watched her in those tasks and since she had fought for Greengrass just the week before. There was no denying Draco had some twisted kind of attraction to her. An attraction he didn't necessarily enjoy and he certainly didn't understand; but considering everything that had happened between them - from the rivalry, to her trying to neuter him in second year - he had never really thought about it seriously.

Maybe, considering her reaction, he should.

She jolted away from him so quickly that there was no way for him to confuse what had been roaming through her mind. He was thrilled, a smile curling it's way up his face before...horribly...she muttered Cedric Diggory's name.

It had only been under her breath, as if reminding herself of his existence - or recent lack thereof - but with his name the excitement of the moment had gone. There was a moment where Draco nearly felt betrayed, hurt by the fact she had disregarded that feeling that he had been hoping her to feel for so long...and then came the anger. The rage. The deep, horrible envy that bubbled in the pit of his stomach and forced itself through his teeth like venom.

"You could have had it all, Potter," he sneered, rubbing at his neck and feeling the indents of her fingers still burning on his skin like dying embers in a fire. "You could have made it through this on the right side, a real Slytherin...instead you chose the losers."

He looked over to her brother, stupid Potter and his Gryffindor gang of idiots. Saint Potter looked about ready to attack him, but instead the Mudblood pushed him down, trying to calm him. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle grunted supportively, ready to attack if needed. He wondered if they could tell how upset he was; he wondered if they would notice just how much the girl had hurt him without any insults or words - just with a look and the quick dismissal of it.

"You chose the idiots who try to win equally," Malfoy sneered, acknowledging how fair they were trying to play. He loved that Potter wasn't going to attack him; that Potter was weak enough to try and let this go without turning into a battle - because that's exactly what this was. This kind of hatred toward her brother could only be considered a war for her favour. Draco was more like her, Draco actually cared about whether she lived or died...unlike her stupid, stupid brother who continually dragged her into situations where she constantly had to fight to survive. "Or maybe you didn't choose the idiots side, maybe it was just that you chose to shag one of the ones who sided your broth-"

What made him say it, he couldn't have verbalized; not in the way he had verbalized the deepest and most jealous of his thoughts. It could have been because of the betrayal that Potter had thought of Diggory before she had really considered him, or maybe even that her brother was trying to be so noble, as if he was protective of her - he wasn't, not even close...or at least, Harry Potter hadn't been concerned for his sister until that very moment.

He wasn't able to tell where the pain started or how it had spread, but he knew that it hit hard and fast. He could hardly understand the slew of spells he heard, but the flashes of colour and the agony let him know that they weren't charms - they were curses. He couldn't understand why Crabbe and Goyle weren't helping him, for a moment he hoped they would, until he heard the faint mumblings of the Gryffindors talking about having attacked them as well.

Draco had a feeling there was no help coming for them now.

From his peripheral vision, which was thick with enchanted mucus and tears that stung and burned, he could see that those stupid Blood Traitor twins had come into the compartment. He didn't know whether or not they had been the ones to attack him, but he didn't like the way they were taking joy in his misfortune.

Even more than Malfoy disliked the way they were celebrating having blindsided and attacked him, Draco Malfoy loathed the way that the one Weasley looked at Potter. He was smitten with her; anyone could have seen it and Draco had known of his little infatuation for years now - but to be in a compartment and to see it first hand, to be smothered by the sight of it and drowning in the deep looks the Blood Traitor threw her way, it was sickening. To see how they reacted so lightly around each other, right after she had mentioned another bloke to have favour over him...it turned his stomach.

It was hardly a moment before the boys in the compartment took the time to kick, roll, and physically force Draco out of the compartment. It was painful, he was certain they had bruised some of his ribs, if not cracked them. He was trying to shout out for help, wheezing through the liquid that dripped into his mouth and seared his throat every time he tried. He attempted to wiggle and writhe to the point that he could reach his wand...but there was no hope of winning against the combustion of curses that had disabled him. He wanted to confront those assholes for having done this, for having the nerve to attack him - but there was no way he was able to grab his wand, nevertheless attack them in return.

He waited for someone to help him, hearing Crabbe and Goyle moaning beside him from their own agonies. He couldn't believe the pain he was in; he couldn't imagine what kind of jinxes, hexes and curses had been used against the three of them. He was glad he didn't wait with bated breath, considering no one paid any attention to him sprawled between the compartments. He just lay there, dwelling and unable to move or think of anything except for the pain and what had caused it - stupid Potter and her little talents. And then there was the otherPotter and his stupid friends to back up her crazed lack of control.

Someone, harshly, kicked him in the side. He let out a groan, both of pain and trying to get the attention of whoever it was - maybe they would help him. Maybe it was someone who would finally take pity on him - he knew nearly immediately it was no use. Not when he saw the face that loomed in front of him - dark hair, dark eyes, and a shit-eating grin that he wanted to scrape off his face.

"Well done, Malfoy," Montague smiled. "Do you still want to protect her, then?"

Montague didn't wait around to hear his response; instead he kicked Draco's side again, laughing as he walked off and away from the Slytherins that had been hurt. Draco, more enraged than he had been at any other time during this day, tried desperately to move and reach his wand. He just wanted to attack Montague until he fell flat - preferably until he could no longer breathe.

He stopped struggling so feebly when something touched his face. He let out a whine, waiting for Montague to kick him again on his way back to his compartment, but instead he was surprised to hear her voice.

"Why are you broken, Circe?" She sneered. The soft touch stopped - apparently her kneazle had taken pity on him. "Stop liking this dolt."

If Malfoy really tried, he could see her from the corner of his vision. She was pouting and looking very confused as she looked down on him. She took a step closer, putting her kneazle back in the compartment behind her and shutting it so the kneazle couldn't lick at him again.

"Actually," she leaned over him, fumbling around his stomach. He hoped maybe she was finally being merciful and grabbing his wand for him - the way her eyes were flickering down to her lips gave him some hope that maybe she would...but instead, he heard a terrible jingling while she held out his pouch full of galleons in front of his eyes. "There you are."

He groaned, looking at the money pouch bitterly.

That money could not go to a Weasley. Any Weasley was horrible enough - but not that Weasley. Not when he was trying to win Potter away from him; not when he finally had a chance with the woman. To give Weasley his money would be like some disgusting form of surrender.

"Oh, don't be such a twat," she muttered, wiping her hand on his robes - if she was in pain over the little bit on her pain, she must realize how much it hurt him. He hoped she would be at least a little considerate...though the longer she waited, the more he doubted it. "You promised me this in the autumn this year, remember? This is mine. And if there's extra in it, you can consider it having gathered interest."

He gave another groan, trying to make her understand how much he hated her, the Weasleys, and the curses he had just been subjected to.

"No, I'm not stealing. You owed it to me."

He groaned. He knew he owed it to her, but he did not owe it to those stupid twins.

"But you're very sweet giving it up without so much of a fight. Sadly, I don't like slimy kisses, so you'll just have to accept my condolences on your face. I'm sure a trip to St Mungos will fix that all up."

Was it really that bad? Had she really hurt him enough he'd have to go to St Mungos? He was going to kill everyone in that compartment if he had to...

"Yes, yes, Fred and George will send their thanks, I'm sure." She leaned over, looking at his lips again briefly before she grinned. There was a moment, a single moment, where he thought that she might have kissed him - even if just to be condescending, even if just because he couldn't fight back - but she pulled away sharply and smiled more brightly than he may have ever seen. "Have a lovely holiday, Drakie."

He groaned again as she walked away from him - shutting down all his hopes of help, or something even more. He hoped that since the train was stopping and people had to walk past him that someone would help him - but no one did. No one did anything but walk over him and ignore the fact that he, Crabbe, and Goyle were not able to move or defend themselves. More than a few people stepped on him, even more people laughed...

He had never felt so hated.

He had never felt so vengeful.

"Oh, Draco," hearing his mother's voice was as horrible as it was relieving. He was sad that she had to see him like this, but he was ready for all the stinging of the mucus covering him to be washed away. His mother leaned down, watching him carefully. "Who did this to you?"

Draco groaned in protest to being questioned before he was healed, but even if he could have he had a feeling he wouldn't have been able to find it within him to properly respond anyway. It had been multiple people to attack him, after all and he had overstepped a line with Potter...it wasn't her fault as much as those stupid Gryffindors. Or so he tried to convince himself. He tried to convince himself that it was a mistake, even his mistake...

His mother sighed.

"It was Audrey Potter, wasn't it?"

Draco groaned again.

Yes. It always had something to do with Audrey Potter.

Based off of my story Green Eyed Monster.

I do not own the Harry Potter universe or its characters. I do own Audrey Potter, her ridiculously vivid potion-making skills, and her wicked nicknames.

Thanks go to xXMizz Alec VolturiXx, Slytherin's Strumpet, WORMoverBOOK, accio-logic, vmockingjay12, CLAMPsFluffMeisterGirl, Lynn D. Mariza, sarahmichellegellarfan1, amititties, adahellou, bleeding-roses-16, PoisonDreamz, LovableAmethyst129, Dark Rose Princess, Takara Matsudaira, xXFangirlingBookwormXx, nannan and Knightshade1373 for the wonderful reviews.

I hope you liked the flashback; please review! :)