Yours in Mayhem |Dramione

5 third year: fifth letter

Was it true that that Gryffindor bitch knocked you out?

Draco felt like he has a proper concussion. An injury worse than the attack of the hippogriff. Hermione Granger just punched him on the face. He had it coming he told himself as he passed the note back to Pansy Parkinson- a girl who clearly fancied him because how could they not?- without a reply. They were about to have supper, the last supper before they all leave Hogwarts for the summer.

The violent physical confrontation was between him and Granger.

And of course, Saint Potter, The Weasel, Crabbe and Goyle since they are there too.

He rubbed his nose, it was still sore. But he decided not go to Madam Pomfrey about it, he also discarded the ridiculous arm sling. Just because it was getting dirty and unfit for his attire. A smart cut jacket and dark leather shoes, topped with their family ring. The Malfoy ring.

Lingerie are going to be thrown his way, better learn how to dodge. (Well of course not now, he's only fourteen but soon.)

But Granger and the other two are not in the Great Hall as he expected them too. He has written a lot of clever literary punches to throw her way. First among them was 'You punch like a bucktooth know-it-all' and of course his Slytherin posse will laugh then he will proceed to say 'Can you hear that? That's the sound of a filthy little mudblood about to apologize' then of course she will say 'You wish, Malfoy' then he will say 'Not wishing, Granger. Knowing' and then-

"You're not eating," Crabbed observed from beside him, mouth stuffed with turkey and peas.

Draco leered at him, "Didn't know my father has sent me a babysitter. I know he does pay handsomely but Crabbe- think about your future." He smirked and Crabbe fell silent but chewed on noisily.

"But seriously, mate," interjected Goyle, roast beef stuck in between his teeth. He let out a loud belch in Draco's face, he barely had time to turn away. "I reckon you eat."

Draco stood up and imitated Goyle's manner of speaking, "Well, I don't reckon asking the Goyle das I? Har har." He rolled his eyes and walked away from the table. He noticed a female figure stand up after him. "Don't follow me, Parkinson!" She retreated.

He was full. Full of a feeling that he just can't name.

He ran to the watch tower. Maybe just maybe he'd see her again.

Not that it matters.

It matters.

Not.

The watchtower's glass window was blurry from the cold and fog and the mechanical clock's rigs were icy against his fingertips. It was starting to get dark, there was no sunset, just the dark coming. He watched as the dementors approach the school ground. Or maybe even the mad killer Sirius Black. Killing muggles by the dozen just for laughs.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, goosebumps erected on his skin.

If Granger and the other two are there, they'll get what they deserve for breaking the rules.

He turned his nose up in the air. She deserves to be punished. How dare she hit him? Draco Malfoy! He practically owns Hogwarts! One of the governors' son. The Malfoy heir. A pureblood.

No one has ever hit him before. Not even his own parents.

They have worse ways of torture.

Silence.

Long periods of time depraved of attention.

Draco scoffed.

He heard that she dropped two subjects this year. Caused a racket in Professor Trewlaney's classroom apparently, before dropping Divination. She also took up Muggle Studies and dropped it. Why in the world would she take it despite being a muggle- born? To that he has no inkling. Perhaps out of pure narcissism and pride of her kind. He sneered again.