they were just kids [draco malfoy]

Year 5 - 73

Draco was disappointed.

Terribly disappointed.

In his own self.

The blonde lad had just basically flirted with Ninomae.

Draco shook his head to himself, murmuring something incoherent under his breath before heading back to the locker room, Crabbe and Goyle wordlessly tagging in tow.

The shower Draco took that afternoon was one of the coldest showers he had ever taken. The blonde was very well aware he had to set his mind straight. 

He had hoped the icy water would help him distract himself from the flashing image of Ninomae's lips that kept popping into his mind, much against his own will. The way she smirked. The way her bottom lip pressed out into a mocking pout before turning back into a sneer. The way she pursued her lips slightly whenever something disgusted her and even simply the way she talked. The way she spoke his name and because of one corner of her lip being pulled up in disgust, her teeth always brushed over her bottom lip while pronouncing the sound 'foy'.

He had hoped the water would help, but unfortunately, it didn't do much. 

The second Draco set his foot back in the locker room, his ears were flooded with the conversations about quidditch and the Gryffindor team. About Potter. 

Hearing the lad's name all he could think of was the way Ninomae had come over, leaned onto Draco's shoulder casually and told Potter all the things he himself had wanted to say. She had been fantastic and Draco hadn't been able to hold his heart back from swelling with almost pride that Ninomae shared his views.

His father had often told him that Draco should not act on his hate towards the boy who lived. It made his family look bad. Where the world praised the boy for saving them from the darkest wizard of all times, if Draco bullied him, it looked like the Malfoys had been against such change. Not that they hadn't been against it, the point was that it couldn't look like that to others.

But Draco had never been able to hold back. Even now that he knew Potter had sighted his father during the third task, even at the moment it would be most important to not bring attention to their family name, Draco couldn't hold back. His despise for the four-eyed boy was too deeply rooted.

And seeing Ninomae join him just because she wanted to (not like Crabbe and Goyle who simply tagged along out of convenience), just did something to him. Draco didn't know what it was but he knew he was unable to shake the feeling away.

The blonde brushed his hair out of his face, then letting the wet stands fall back in front of his eyes as he looked for his clothes. Too lost in his own thoughts the lad didn't involve himself in the ongoing conversation. 

After putting on some bottoms and grabbing his black shirt Draco made his way to stand in front of a mirror. He put the shirt on over his hands, buttoned the lowest button and then paused, simply eyeing himself in the mirror.

Draco had worked out more excessively over the summer and it was evident in the way his pale chest appeared much better toned. As much as the boy wanted to say it was so because he had been a determined quidditch player, he knew the reason for such workouts was highly different. 

Things had begun to change over the summer in the Manor, along with them changing Draco's views on his family and the world around him. Many people had come in and out talking about surely deatheater matters and the only worthy distraction Draco had found had been to go out flying.

He could've lounged around the house. He could've read in his corner of the big Malfoy Manor library. But wherever he went it reeked of dirty business and for the first time in his life the blonde had a hard time standing it. He found his only escape to be going outside, speeding through the cold air so quickly he could barely even draw a proper breath. In moments like these, he could forget his father had quite literally participated in the murder of his schoolmate.