Chapter Five: Draco – Draco Malfoy

Snape's fist came down forcefully on the desk, causing the phials on its surface to clink together.
"Miss Granger!" he barked, "If you wish to teach this class then you can apply for the position of Potions Master! Being a nauseating know-it-all in lessons, however, will not get you very far – ten points from Gryffindor!"
Professor Severus Snape was Harry, Ron, Hermione and probably the whole of Gryffindor House's most despised teacher. He was Head of Slytherin House, and felt mutual about Gryffindor. Taking points from their House was one of his favourite ways to punish them, usually without any cause. In this instance, Hermione had objected to the temperature in which Snape had instructed they brew Hair Growth Potions, which contradicted what was stated in the textbook. She shrank in her seat, her face flushing as red as the flames that flickered underneath her bubbling cauldron.
"You may alter the temperature if you wish, Miss Granger, and we can test the efficiency of your concoction at the end of the lesson – actually, we'd best not," he leered, a cruel smirk on his sallow face – "I think your hair is thick enough already..."
The Slytherins, whom Gryffindor had the misfortune to endure Potions lessons with, burst into hoots of laughter at this, making Hermione blush even more.
She had always been a little self-conscious about her slightly frumpy looks – her brown hair was bushy and hard to tame, and her front teeth were a bit too large – but it had never been so publicly mocked, especially by a teacher.
Harry and Ron were outraged, and began to call Snape some very rude names indeed, but fortunately for them their insults could not be heard by Snape due to the hysterics coming from the Slytherin side of the dungeon classroom.

Snape turned on his heel, his greasy black hair swishing just above his shoulders.
"Resume your work, Potter, Weasley – else I shall take another five points from Gryffindor for lack of effort."
Harry and Ron glowered at Snape, before resuming chopping up their cloves of garlic with new-fangled fervour.
Draco Malfoy's trademark sneer floated across the classroom.
"Stupid Mudblood," he sniggered, "The only reason she has to try so hard is because she's a filthy – ARGH!"
He cried out in pain as he was thrown back into with a powerful force – Ron had overheard his jibes and lost his temper, sending Malfoy zooming across the classroom, hitting the wall and crumpling in a whimpering heap on the stone floor.
"MR. WEASLEY! How DARE you attack a fellow student! FIFTY POINTS from Gryffindor!" Snape roared, springing up from behind his desk. "Goyle – escort Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing immediately. And you, Weasley, you can come with me. I'm taking you to your Head of House for this – you've pushed your luck too far this time!"
A dazed Ron staggered to the door after Snape, accompanied by thunderous cheers from the Gryffindors.
"SILENCE! I DEMAND—" Snape's attempts at controlling the Gryffindors were useless, so he clamped a pale hand forcefully on Ron's shoulder and steered him out of the classroom in fury. Hermione was still gawping after Ron, shocked by his sudden outburst in her defence – and Harry was applauding and rooting for him louder than anyone else.
The smug smiles had been completely wiped off the Slytherins' faces; instead, they were scowling into their cauldrons, muttering to each other.
Malfoy acted as if he was on his deathbed as he was effortlessly carried out of the classroom by Goyle.

"Against the wall you say, Mr. – Goyle, was it? Well, he doesn't appear to have broken any bones, although if he did land funny on his wrist, he might have sprained it. The case is the same as I said last time you were here, Draco – the dramatics outweigh the damage. Come in anyway, choose a bed, I'll go see what I can find – thank you for escorting Draco here, Mr. Goyle, you can return to your lesson now..."

Madam Pomfrey's appraising voice drifted through the infirmary doors to Sami, who was propped up on her own bed, reading a book that Hermione Granger had left her the morning she was told that she was a witch. It was a thick volume with yellowing pages – it had clearly been read many times – entitled Hogwarts: A History, and was fascinating; she absorbed the information on every page eagerly, thanking whoever Professor Garino was for including a Glossary. Hearing Madam Pomfrey's words, however, she understood that someone was to join her in the hospital wing, so she rested the book on her lap, bookmarking her page, and prepared herself for the encounter.
A boy no older than she sauntered into the room, sweeping it – obviously checking for any other occupants. He was very pale and skinny, with a pointed face; his hair was a white blonde colour and razored shorter at the nape of his neck – a section of it was looser than the rest and hung by his eyes, which were a bright blue. The boy was clutching his right wrist, trying to pass as 'injured', but it was plainly mostly pretence. His attitude and fixed sneer that silently yelled 'I'm superior to you, bow down to me' created an aura of distrust about him, and Sami couldn't help but be suspicious of whoever this boy was.

Unluckily for her, when he caught her eye he puffed out his chest – probably sensing a new opportunity to show off – and plonked down self-importantly on the foot of the bed next to her, swinging his feet up to rest at the end of hers.
"I'm Draco – Draco Malfoy," he announced, thumbs hooked in the lapels of his robes, "I don't believe we've met..."
Sami smiled forcedly at the revolting boy, Draco Malfoy, who was clearly after an introduction.
"Samantha O'Rourke. We definitely haven't met before, I'm new here."
He smiled arrogantly, in what he seemed to think was an attractive way.
"I knew it – it's not possible, to forget meeting a girl like you..."
Like a blessing in a pointed hat, Madam Pomfrey entered the room – diverting Draco's gaze to her so that Sami could turn away to battle her laughter at his dreadfully corny line.
"Yes, it does seem to be sprained – not something that this little concoction can't sort out in a minute, though! If you just take this now, you'll be back in the dungeon for the final part of Potions..." Madam Pomfrey said cheerily.
"But Madam Pomfrey, what about my – er – head traumas?"
"I beg your pardon, Draco?"
"Well my head cracked against the wall and it's throbbing like mad... my vision's blurry too... should I take a lie down?"
The nurse clucked in disapproval and checked her watch.
"Oh, alright then... you only have ten minutes left of the lesson anyway," she said, before leaving the main wing to her office and closing the door.
Sami knew she couldn't keep looking in the opposite direction to Draco – Draco Malfoy, and resuming reading Hogwarts: A History would be plain anti-social, so opting for the 'grin and bear it' attitude she turned to face him once again.
"So Samantha – which year are you in?" he looked hopeful.
"Fourteen in about two months, I am, if that helps?"
"Ah, you'll be a third-year then – like me," he replied, pleased. Sami tried to smile, but had the feeling that it looked like a weird grimace. Draco – Draco Malfoy continued, "Have you been Sorted yet? You're wearing a Gryffindor robe there,"
"I beg your pardon, what? 'Sorted'?"

Draco's eyebrows rose doubtfully. Not understanding what the term 'House' meant here was clearly the wrong way to go about being inconspicuous. From the looks of Draco's air of believing himself to be superior to others, admitting she was a – what had Dumbledore said again? – A Muggle probably wasn't the smartest thing to boast about. Professor Dumbledore had told her that she was very unique indeed; she was a phenomenon. He had warned her that 'certain types of wizards, especially the long-distinguished family names' would not approve of her – then she remembered the way Draco had announced his surname. She needed to backlog, and quickly at that.
"Oh, this robe? No, no – it's not mine–" Draco interrupted her before she could finish, his eyes fixed upon her dress.
"—Yeah, I thought it looked big for you – whose is it then?"
"Um, George Weasley's..."
"George Weasley?" Draco's head snapped up and he set his stare into her eyes. "What are you doing wearing George Weasley's robes?" he said, with more than a hint of contempt.
Sami was confused as to why Draco said the name with such scorn.
"Well when I got here I wasn't in my school robes, you see now, so he let me borrow his – is that... bad?" she decided to make use of Draco's perceptible attraction to her by delivering the latter part of her sentence with her eyes wide and eyebrows raised in a submissive, curious expression.
It worked a charm – he had to catch himself before replying.
"Oh no, no – it's just... well, you don't want to be mixing with that lot, you see."
"What lot?" she tilted her head to one side in mock curiosity.
"The Weasleys," he spat, "and worst of all – Harry Potter. He thinks just because he defeated You-Know-Who when he was a baby – got his parents though, but not the one-year-old – he's royalty. And watch out for that disgusting Mudblood girl Hermione Granger, too. You know their type – they don't even belong in Hogwarts, let alone the wizarding world."
Relief flooded Sami as the bells rang to signal break and Madam Pomfrey re-entered.
"Okay, Draco, you've milked it enough now – go on outside for break now, go on!"
He jumped to his feet and turned back around to Sami, who felt sick to her stomach.
"Hope you get sorted into Slytherin," he said. Then, after a wink – which made Sami even more nauseous – he sauntered out of the hospital wing.

Sami hoped that Hermione, the Weasley brothers, and Harry would visit her during break. She had only briefly met them once before, and was burning to tell them about this instance with Draco – Draco Malfoy. Luckily for her, they did decide to drop in on the infirmary – after Hermione had figured out that Draco would have met Sami there.
The five of them trooped in barely minutes after Malfoy had left, Hermione straggling behind under the weight of at least half a dozen thick books.
As the boys flopped down onto the edges of the nearest beds to Sami, Hermione placed the books onto the foot of her bed with extreme care and rested her hand on the topmost one.
"Sure you don't want a tissue, Hermione?" George's twin – Fred, she remembered – quipped.
"These are my schoolbooks from our first and second year. I think the twins'll lend you theirs from third, and when you start school on Monday you'll have your new ones for your fourth year," she said, ignoring Fred's remark.
"Wait – fourth year?" Sami was slightly lost. "I'm s'posed to be third year, apparently..."
Hermione looked surprised, but then smiled widely. "Really? The boys were willing to bet you were in fifth year, like Fred and George here! Oh well, it doesn't matter – it's actually tons better that you're in third, because that's mine, Harry, and Ron's year!"
Sami blushed slightly at being considered older than she was, but returned Hermione's grin – Draco Malfoy had nearly floated out of her mind, but as she was about to ask which House they were in, his unkind words about them came drifting back.
"Third-year? Do you know a boy called," she imitated him, puffing up her chest and looking down her nose at the others, "Draco – Draco MAL-foy? I just had the unpleasant opportunity of meeting him..."
"Eugh. We know him, alright..." Ron said, glowering at no-one in particular, his fists clenched. Harry, who was sitting between him and Hermione, decided to elaborate.
"He's a Slytherin, and the most stereotypical one you can find – arrogant..."
"...offensive..." Hermione offered.
"...hideous!" Fred and George pitched in simultaneously.
Sami selected her next words carefully, worrying because she wasn't sure what was deemed offensive to wizards.
"Um.. He really don't like any of you, does he?"
They snorted.
"What did he say to you about us, then?" Harry asked, amused.
"Er – he – he said that I didn't want to be mixing with 'that lot', and when I asked him what 'lot' he was talking about, he sort of – well, he spat – 'the Weasleys'... and – and he said that just because you, Harry, beat some guy I think I was supposed to understand called 'You-Know-Who', that you thought you were royalty... and – Hermione, he called you disgusting, a 'Mud'–"
"Don't say it, please," Hermione choked out.
"Hermione, I'm sorry, I – I didn't know, I–"
"No, don't worry, you didn't know any better. You don't understand what Malfoy meant, when he insulted each of us – Harry, do you want to explain?" she looked resignedly at Harry, who took a deep breath.
"The first thing you need to know is that there are different types of wizards. The only difference between them though, really, is in their blood. You have 'pure-bloods', like Malfoy, who come from a family full of wizards. Then here's 'half-bloods'. One side of these wizards' parents or grandparents contain a witch or wizard, but the other side isn't magic. Finally, you have 'Muggle-born' witches and wizards. These people are born to two Muggles – sorry, non-magic pe–"
"–Don't apologise! I don't mind the word," Sami smiled and let him continue.
"Okay, so 'Muggle-borns' are the son or daughter of two Muggles and have Muggle grandparents, but somewhere along the line there are ancestors who have magic blood. It's tricky, the magic gene..." he smiled half-heartedly as he paused, a faraway mist in his eyes that Sami recognised all too well. She wanted to comfort him, but knew it would be too awkward – they barely knew each other. Thankfully, Ron finished off the explanation for Harry before the uncomfortable silence could set in.
"The word that Malfoy called Hermione means 'dirty blood' – ridiculous, really, thinking that Muggle-borns aren't as talented as other wizards – our Hermione could beat Malfoy any day..."
"It's not a word you'd expect to hear in civil conversation," Hermione herself added.
Sami nodded. She had noticed that the others didn't refer to Draco by his first name, which echoed their dislike of him further.
Once again the bells rang; this time it was to signal that lessons were to resume. Break had passed too quickly, Sami thought – she still had no idea who this 'You-Know-Who' was, but if they had really murdered Harry's parents, they were definitely Dark.
The others left the hospital wing, Hermione with strict instructions for Sami to begin reading her past notes to 'keep caught up'.
As they were leaving, Sami heard Fred ask Ron, "Did you really send him smashing into the wall?"
"Yeah – he deserved it, the slimy git,"
"George, it seems our little brother is finally living up to our standards..."
Once their voices had faded completely, Sami sank back against the bedstead – with care not to knock her bruised head – and picked up the first book in the pile. The front of it was neatly labelled "Charms – Years 1 & 2, Hermione Jean Granger". Intrigued, Sami began to read.