The rest of the story

Chapter One

I hate Harry Potter and his stupid gang of half wit friends. The thought passes through my mind for the millionth time as I sit on a branch of one of the many trees dotting the walkways around Hogwarts. If he hadn't been so inexplicably accidentally brilliant—not that he's brilliant just... ugh! The point is this all should have been settled long before I was old enough to be included in any of the schemes to defeat him and then I wouldn't have to sit here, my entire world revolving around some stupid boy who's just accidentally special all of the time. No, he isn't special. Everyone just thinks he's special because he survived the Dark Lord attempting to kill him, as if he's the only one to ever survive attempted murder. Clearly, if he was, they wouldn't have to call it... oh never mind. "Goyle, what time is it?" Goyle sits up, startled, dropping the tree bark he was meticulously picking at in a trance like state. What a tragic world is one where your father assigns your minions.

"Uhh... it's, I mean, ummm oh it's 3:30."

"Great," I mutter back dryly. It's so stupid that I'm waiting in a tree just for this. I don't even get the point. When the death eaters laid out their plans for my involvement I thought I'd get to do something a little more useful than to annoy the infamous Harry Potter. It's not like it will even make a difference. They didn't even tell me what to say, just to upset him. I could probably never talk to him again and he'd still do exactly whatever inane scheme he was gonna do regardless. I wish he never would have been so stupid as to get himself entered in the goblet of fire. All of the plans got a lot more convoluted and stupid the second he did that. He just keeps making everything worse for me. Finally I see him, striding angrily along the pathway with the ginger and little miss perfect toddling along behind him. An evil smile curls across my lips. Finally the star of the bloody show has arrived.

"Why so tense, Potter? My father and I have a bet, you see," I call out before sliding down from the tree I've been sitting in. "I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in this tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five." I've barely spoken to my father for months, but the particulars don't matter. Harry strides over to me quickly with an unexpected, angry intensity in his eyes. Normally he wouldn't care so much if at all from such a comment, and for a second I consider running away. He looks scary.

"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy. He's vile and cruel, and you're pathetic," Harry sneers as his eyes flash angrily. He grabs me roughly by the collar as if to push me away, but his hands linger, refusing to break contact as he glares at me. His eyes are green with flecks of small, almost unnoticeable swirls of brown and gold within them. They remain fixed on me as I stare back at him. For some reason I feel frozen. Normally I would have responded with an insult or quip by now, but the intensity of his expression jars me and I find myself fumbling for words. It has to have been less than a second or two, but with his eyes locked on mine I feel as though an eternity has passed.

"Pathetic?" I spit at him, my blood boiling as I try to ignore the anxious flutter in my chest. "What's pathetic are your mindless fumblings for attention. First you sneak your name into the goblet of fire, and now this." Harry glares at me. Confusion flashes across his expression for a moment before being replaced with cool indifference.

"I didn't... whatever, Malfoy," he mumbles before turning away from me.

"Don't turn your back on me," I yell angrily.

"Or what, your father will hear about it?" Harry tosses back, a condescending sneer playing about his lips. I glare at him and his stupid little round glasses. Back when he was so sickeningly sweet to a fault I could almost believe that he didn't somehow bribe the sorting hat to be placed in Gryffindor with his nauseating gang of sycophants, but now even he must see the truth. He doesn't belong there with all of those mindless losers, he belongs with me. I mean, in Slytherin. I step toward him slowly, narrowing my eyes as he meets my gaze.