The Tribrid Slytherin (Draco Malfoy)

Dragon's breath

I like this chapter so enjoy.....her inner Bennett is emerging.

My heart pounded in and out of my chest anxiously. Sweat trickled down my forehead, an outcome of my body being so scorched; however, the atmosphere was scientifically cold. Not overwhelmingly freezing, but chilly as autumn came to an end, edging towards the cusp of winter on this November's day.

I was nervous, I have to admit. But there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for my brittle emotion.

Today is the day of the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.

I wrap my Slytherin scarf cozily around my neck. "Move it will you Ronald?" I pester the ginger as I lightly shove his back. As an attempt to push my buttons he halts right in his tracks. "Are you kidding me?" I grumble as he sniggers. I fold my arms above my chest. Hermione pops out of the crowd of students and approaches us.

She pulls a small book out from her charmed book bag and doesn't hesitate to whack the insolent boy on the head. "Ronald!" she scolded. "Alright woman." he put his hands up in defeat, continuing to an empty row of seats.

We take a seat one by one across the wooden benches. Hermione sat beside Ron, who sat next to Dean and Neville. I sat on the opposite side of Hermione. Alongside Dina, Flora, and Millicent. I pat my glove-covered hands on my knees anxiously.

Dina noticed how tense I appeared so she gently placed her hand on my lower back and began to rub up and down, calming my nerves. "It's going to be alright babes just relaxx." she soothes, her voice dreamy. "Allriighhtt..." I replied, mimicking her voice.

"Harry will be fine, he doesn't appear too daft. Knowing what he has dealt with in the past, he'll find a way to overcome this difficult situation." Flora assures me. "I know, but it's not just Harry, it's Cedric as well. I just don't want them to get hurt is all." I sigh.

"I understand Pure, Harry is, well he's, he's Harry. You know?" Hermione struggles to produce a proper explanation of her thoughts. "Yeah, I know." I chuckle. All of a sudden she stands up. "I'm going to go check in on him, be right back." She squeezes past other students in the direction of the champion's tent.

As I continue to make insignificant conversation with my friends the duo of tall redheads approaches our seats. "Care to place any bets ladies?" their eyebrows wiggle to compliment their growing smirks. "Not today boys," I reply. "If you insist," Fred shrugs, but continues down the long row of students, bellowing bets and attempting to persuade people.

I glance around at the many witches and wizards pilling into their seats, some holding signs to show support, and some seated anxiously. For a split second my eyes glaze over a Slytherin dressed in expensive winter clothing, sporting a fuzzy hat for head warmth. His face wore no emotion, he almost appeared agitated or unwanting. The cold air coats his cheeks and nose with a delicate layer of pink contrasting to his normally pale skin.

Damnit, why does he have to be so bloody attractive?

Sometimes it's so hard to hate that boy...

My dizzy trance is broken as soon as a feminine hand latches onto his arm, caressing his bicep. The blond boy kept his eyes pointed straight ahead, while a greedy girl with dark hair desperately makes contact with him. A girl I recognized as Pansy Parkinson.

A mix of emotions erupted within me; feelings of anger, regret, and jealousy. A faint lump filled my throat. Though, I couldn't help but notice he didn't seem entirely pleased with the situation, almost uncomfortable. I did my best to set aside these doltish feelings and focus on what really mattered.