Draco Malfoy x Reader - Your Years At Hogwarts

Voices

You walked quickly down the corridor. A few older students that wouldn't get out of the way crashed into your shoulders, almost knocking your school bag off. 

Your potions notes almost slipped out a few times, the ones that you really needed for your assessment that was scheduled for next week. Professor Snape would put you in detention for a month you if you didn't revise and get a good mark - especially considering that you were the best Slytherin in class.

You needed to find Harry. He had dropped his transfiguration homework that Professor McGonagall had set for the next day.

While looking to see whose paper it was, you had seen an incorrect answer on the sheet, so you took it upon yourself to correct Harry's obvious mistake. Maybe he would thank you later.

You took a trip into the girls bathroom to tidy up your messy hair. Malfoy had messed it up.

During lunch in the great hall he had tipped gravy into your hair, and even magic couldn't wipe it out completely. The problem with gravy was that it started to smell after a while, so after you gave Harry his work you'd have to figure out a way to get the last bits out. 

It was his prank-back, though. You had slipped another sour fizzer into his drink this year, one that only lasted a few hours (which he certainly did not know) and you and your Slytherin friends had laughed hysterically at his face. He looked as if he could commit murder.

Malfoy was the king of murderous stares.

The mirror you were looking in was cracked, the little hairline chips running all over. You looked like you had three eyes. The bathroom you were currently in was never used, and you had always wondered why.

"Who are you?" screeched a whiny girl's voice from above you. You looked up to an unwelcome sight of a ghost, and a rather ugly one at that. Her face was pasted with an open scowl.

"(Y/n)." you said, not bothering with your surname. You had never seen the ghost before - even in the hall at Halloween.

Then the ghost girl suddenly burst out into a fit of violent tears. "No one likes fat, ugly m...m...moaning Myrtle!" the ghost surged upwards, before coming back down to face you. You didn't want to confront the ghost and actually tell he that she was ugly, just give her some friendly advice.

"Who said that!?" you asked, trying to sound as surprised and affronted as possible. "Who would possibly say that!" 

"All of the mean ones!" she screamed, before entering another fit of salty tear filled sobs. You gritted your teeth, you needed to find Harry.

"I'm sorry, Myrtle," you said, looking into her tearful,  dead eyes, "but I have to go..."

"NO ONE LIKES OLD UGLY MOANING MYRTLE!" she cried, before vanishing through a toilet cubicle.

You didn't even bother chasing after the attention seeking ghost; you just sighed and left the room. Whatever Myrtle was crying about you were sure someone else could help the poor girl.

She was only a ghost after all.

You bounded hastily through the hallways, looking to the left and right for any signs of Harry. Nothing.

You heard he was with Gildorey Lockhart, the new defence against the dark arts teacher who every single girl loved - answering his fan mail. Even you had to admit that his smile was kind of cute. But certainly not his attitude.

In one of the recent classes he let Cornish pixies bring havoc across the classroom. That's how your spellotape for Ron went missing, as they stole it from your bag and threw it out of the first floor window.