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Chapter warning: I don't think there are many notes for this one. This is another building and social structure setting chapter. If you see any errors don't hesitate to inform me.
"Draco, stop that tapping, before I kill you," Hissed Pansy through gritted teeth. They were sitting in the Prefects cabin, and Draco was haughtily ignoring everyone and drumming his fingers on Pansy's leg, impatiently. She smacked his hand, eyes narrowed, and turned back to the meeting. Someone was droning on and on, about something, and Draco had more important things to worry about. For his plan to work, he would need to learn how to apparate, and since he couldn't apparate in Hogwarts, he would have to leave the grounds somehow without rousing suspicion. And he would also need to keep practicing his transfiguration magic, to keep him up to snuff. And of course, learn wandless magic. Oh right, and not let anyone find out he was a fucking werewolf. Oh, and probably start preparing for his NEWTS also personally, he doubted that he would be back at Hogwarts for his seventh year, or that he would ever be accepted by wizarding society once this whole scandal got out. Oh right, and he had to try to keep as many of his Slytherins in a neutral position, out of danger, and out of the war.
All in all, he had about one million things to worry about, and his Prefect duties were not high on the list. At all. He gave Chang a baleful stare as she yammered on and on and on, and tried to stifle the urge to see if he could spit on Weasle's face from here. If he got a freckle, 1000 points to Slytherin. He could almost hear his mother's voice in his head, admonishing him for spitting, or even considering doing something so beneath him.
Words, words, words. Draco hated listening to people who were full of themselves, and hate him for no reason. And he hated irrelevant people and their opinions, but he knew that the seventh year prefect, Terrance Higgs, would have his skin if he mouthed off to Chang one more time.
He lounged on his chair, stretching slightly, his back cracking slightly, and he looked at Hannah Abbot through lowered eyelashes, smiling a lazy flirtatious smile, when she scowled and colored slightly.
Pansy pinched him, hard, narrowing her eyes. Draco frowned, and sulked, nursing his pinched skin, so much so that he didn't notice when Chang dismissed them, and it wasn't until Pansy tugged on his sleeve that he looked up, and got to his feet.
Two hours later found them in a compartment with some other Slytherins, laughing and taunting Blaise for his latest crush, some Ravenclaw called Davis. The boy took it all relatively good naturedly, throwing sweets at everyone in a faux-enraged fashion. Draco idly laughed along with everyone else. He was being quieter than normal, just basking the first moment of his summer that hadn't been about some greater meaning, or greater good. He flopped backwards, sprawling across Pansy's lap.
He couldn't think straight anymore, but he felt like something was shifting. This was real. This was where it was real, the summer felt surreal. Everyone was hiding something at home, all the agendas, and he couldn't help but feel that his parents war was going to get him and his whole family killed. And his friends. And the worst thing was, he didn't even know what the hell the war was about. And his mission was to disable school children. Which was condescending as hell, since what could anyone at this dump of a public school do to stop a magical maniac. And everyone had the nerve to tell Draco he should be honored. Yeah. A real honor, being a half breed, with wild magic that he could hardly control, who only felt at peace with himself when he was transformed into an unmagical scavenger. And who was a risk to the general populace of his school, because he was also contagious when he was a rampaging wild and evil killer.
He hated being strong armed into this, he felt angry and bitter, at all the adults trying to involve him, and his friends in a stupid conflict that was about stupid reasons and opinions, and it was as if people actually cared.
He sulked the whole way to Hogwarts, glowering at the skyline as Scotland streaked by.
When they did reach the school, he just shoved past Potter and Weasley, ignoring their taunts. He was too busy brooding about things he had no hope of changing to deal with shoving each other around like 14 year olds right now.
He picked at his food, fluttering his hand dismissively when Crabbe tried to sneak a treacle tart onto his plate. Vince was the concerned type, who also was improperly informed by Millicent's helpful distribution of advice garnered from her mother who was a Healer at St. Mungo's. She had told Draco that if he didn't regulate his eating habits he would have nutritional deficiencies, and be underweight for life. Vince took it upon himself to try to sneak food onto his plate, and at some point last year Pansy and Blaise had joined the crusade to feed him.
Draco stared vacantly in the direction of the first years, almost feeling sorry for them. The other three houses were likely to give them a hard time, and their parents would have high expectations for them, and the teachers would all look at them and think, evil scum, but 11 year olds aren't evil. Neither at 13 year olds, 14 year olds, or even 17 year olds. No one is pure evil, and didn't they think that alienating little kids from the moment they arrived at boarding school without their parents to protect them, would maybe make them turn out not to like mainstream wizarding society?
He ignored his food in favor of glorious coffee, letting the hot stinging liquid burn his throat a little as it went down, thick and acrid, making him feel warm and alive.