A/N: I would like to thank HermioneJ for her review. It's probably one of the most heartfelt reviews I have ever seen and it made me so happy. I wish that I could reply more personally, but I'll hope that you read this chapter and enjoy it just as much as I loved reading your review. Thank you!

Disclaimer: None of my work belongs to me, it is solely the property of the one and only J.K. Rowling and any other company which has the copyright of Harry Potter, including Warner Bros. Nothing here belongs to me; all the characters are J.K. Rowling's originally, though any new character not part of the Harry Potter series belongs to me.

Title: Walls

Author: hpjkrowling4ever

Offense

The Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station with a screech, and once they had disappeared from the view of the platform, Draco Malfoy stood up gracefully. He raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and looked at Pansy Parkinson, who was staring up at him in open adoration. He sneered inwardly, but did not risk angering her. His father would hear about it if he did.

"Pansy, how do I look?" he asked, turning sideways. Pansy leant her head on her hands and stared dreamily up at him.

"Lovely, darling," she breathed, and Draco turned away, disgusted. She wouldn't tell him if he had a speck of dust on him. He looked at Zabini, hidden away in a corner of their compartment, and raised his eyebrow at the Italian boy. Zabini raised an eyebrow back.

"Yes, Malfoy?" he asked sharply, his voice just bordering on disrespect. Draco raised his other eyebrow and Zabini bowed his head, looking cowed. Draco had to take a deep breath, so powerful was the feeling of shame that coursed through him. He choked it down. Malfoys didn't feel shame.

"Should I change my cloak?" Draco asked, phrasing the question differently so that Pansy, being the fool that she was, wouldn't recognise it as being the same one. He heard her sigh dreamily again behind him and he wanted to snarl his anger at her. No – he couldn't – his father would kill him if he jeopardised the marriage contract.

"You look fine, Malfoy." Zabini answered, his head still bowed. Draco nodded. Zabini disliked him enough that he wouldn't lie.

"Crabbe, Goyle, with me." He ordered, and the two dolts rose cumbersomely from their seats to stand behind him. Draco straightened his cloak once more, threw the door to his compartment open and stalked out, not bothering to keep the door open for Crabbe and Goyle. He heard a grunt that meant that one of them hadn't kept the door open in time, and he sneered at their ineptitude.

Draco spotted a third year further down the corridor and headed there. The third year looked up when he heard Draco approaching, and his eyes widened in fear when he recognised Draco. Draco swallowed down the bile that had risen in his throat and shoved the memories that wrenched themselves to the front of his mind at the sight of the wide, fearful grey eyes, so reminiscent of his own when confronted with his father's wrath.

"You!" he snarled, taking out his shame at his fear on the young boy, who gulped audibly and held his wand in a shaking hand. Draco felt more than saw Crabbe and Goyle step up to his shoulders and cross their arms menacingly. "Tell me where Potter is." He ordered, and the third year pointed a shaking finger down the train.

Draco swept past him regally, but bowed his head once he could no longer see him, ashamed of his cowardice, his inability to do anything other than imitate and obey his father. It was Granger's fault, Potter's fault, their fault that his father did not approve of him, that his father did not give him the love he so desperately wanted.

Once he reached Potter's compartment, he threw open the door and leant against the doorjamb, surveying the three hostile faces in front of him. How could he best take advantage of this situation?

"Sod off, Malfoy, we don't need you here." Weasley snarled, rising to his feet. Draco raised an eyebrow and stared at Weasley until he dropped his eyes.

"Is that so, Weasel?" he asked, feeling triumphant when Weasley scowled and Granger frowned. Oh, how he wanted to make her frown. "I'd say you're more the waste of space."

"Shut up, Malfoy." Potter said wearily, his wand hand lying limply beside him. Now, they couldn't have that, Potter couldn't be unaffected.

"Oh? If the Wizarding World is so unaffected by the presence of mudbloods and blood traitors, then you can surely allow me to speak freely, hmm?" Draco asked, delighted when Granger blushed bright red. He did let his hand slide closer to his wand when she rose.

"You're a bigoted, close-minded fool and you'll see what'll come to you in the end, Malfoy!" she shouted, her hands clenched tightly beside her. Draco crowed at the rise – finally, finally he was getting his revenge.

"Me? I'm untouchable, Granger. My father could have you destroyed in an instant." Draco said, smirking. She had no idea how true his words were. If Lucius Malfoy could happily injure his son, then he would happily destroy Granger. Merlin, a world without Granger; maybe then his father would love him.

"Your father is an even bigger fool than you are." Potter said mildly. Draco noticed that he had his wand in his hand and was tapping it against his thigh. A few sparks shot out the end and Potter grinned. Draco was momentarily surprised by the way the grin made his eyes light up, but quickly recovered and sneered at Potter.

"Sparks? Is this the famed Boy-Who-Lived? You have to pull your wand out at a few words…is itty bitty little Potty scared of the big, bad Draco Malfoy?" Draco jeered, his lips pulling back into a mirthless smile.

"Leave us alone, Malfoy!" Granger breathed out furiously. It looked like she was close to tears. "You have no idea what you're doing."

"On the contrary, Granger, I know what I'm doing and I know where I stand. You don't stand a chance in a world like this with people like me." Draco replied smoothly, and Crabbe and Goyle grunted in agreement behind him.

"Just – just get out, Malfoy!" Weasley yelled, red in the face.

"You're all so easy." Draco hissed, pulling out his wand. He relished the way Weasley and Granger took a step back and reached into their pockets. "You don't stand a chance when the Dark Lord rises."

With Granger's stricken look imprinted in his mind, Draco whirled around, filled with glee. It was a job well done.

He ignored the voice in his head saying, you are your father's son. It was easier, safer to think that they had done something to him, rather than he had done something to them. Otherwise he would be a bully.

Otherwise he would be his father.

A/N: Prompts used: someone crossing their arms, Hermione Granger (not as a main character though).