Silence
It was the only thing Draco craved, because it was the one thing he didn't have.
There was never any quiet at his house; at least, not since the Dark Lord had commandeered Malfoy Manor. Death Eaters came in at all hours of the night. Shrieks and explosions were his constant companion. Even when there was no talking, Draco could hear the tension roaring about him, ready to pull him under. The lines on his mother's usually unmarred face screamed at him whenever he looked at her. His father's exaggerated limp shouted at him after every Dark Revel. Draco slept with one eye open and one hand on his wand.
At school, it was marginally better. Crabbe and Goyle kept most people away from him, but he couldn't exactly ask them to keep themselves away from him. Blaise helped with Pansy; he claimed he only did it to improve his Stunners, but Draco was grateful nonetheless.
In the library, he could get peace and calm for a short interval, before a First Year would come in and ruin it. But that was alright; at least he had gotten some.
He never suspected that he would crave silence more hungrily than wealth or prestige.
Apparently, his priorities were different than Potter said they were.