Chapter 3
~Draco Malfoy~
"You know, you really are quite annoying," Blaise said while leaning against the wall, trying to look cool with his tan skin, extremely short curly black hair, blue eyes and lips that were made for smiling but weren't.
"And you think you're any better?" Ginny said while holding her books closely towards her chest.
Blaise smirked and looked up and down at her. If my eyes didn't fool me, I would have thought that Blaise was flirting with a red haired witch. I was walking towards the Great Hall for breakfast. As I was just about to turn the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw those two.
-Isn't Miss Weasley dating the famous Harry Potter?
I leaned against the wall, hiding myself from them and waited for their conversation to end. To my advantage, those two barely said another word and after looking into each other's eyes, Weasley turned on her heels and started to walk into the Great Hall where she met up with Granger and sat down at her table. I walked down to Blaise with my hands in my pocket, trying to act as if I didn't see a thing. Blaise was still leaning against the wall with his left foot touching the wall but this time he was looking dead at me.
"Zabini," I said.
"Malfoy," he said while nodding his head. He got off the wall and we walked to our table in silence. I looked around to see if Pansy or Goyle were around but, to my dismay, they hadn't arrived yet. Better yet, barely any of the Slytherins' had arrived, probably being late as usual. As I thought of this, a smirk came across my face and Blaise noticed.
"What are you smirking about Malfoy?" he asked after taking a sip of his orange juice.
"Oh the usual," I replied after taking a bite of my apple. Blaise nodded his head in agreement as if he understood exactly what I was talking about.
I faced the guy that I had called best friend for years. I remembered the first time I met Blaise. It was ten years ago when we were both seven. My parents took me to a bookstore in Diagon Alley, because my father thought I was lacking the amount of languages I knew. At that time I knew three: English, French, and Dutch. My parents, well, mostly my father, dragged me with him while he was looking at a huge book about German in front of a bookcase. My mother, on the other, hand reunited with her friend. I picked up one of the books in front of me and skimmed through the pages and very quickly became bored. I glanced up at my father and saw that he was oblivious to our surroundings, so I looked for my mother and when I finally saw her, I ran. Before I could even reach my mother, I bumped into a boy around my age that was looking at a child's version of the encyclopedia of Dark magic. The boy fell flat on his butt, I fell on my side and the book that he was reading flew across the room and landed on a couch. The boy got up without a single emotion of being hurt and dusted off his butt while I did the same thing. He then glared at me with such hatred that steam could have been coming out of his ears at any moment. I looked at this boy like he was crazy when he didn't say a single word but instead pointed his tiny finger towards his book. I looked at the book, then back at him and crossed my arms over my chest and scoffed.
"Get it yourself," I said and started to walk away. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back. I quickly shook my hand away from his grasp and glared at this boy. I was ready to punch this kid in the face for touching me.
"If I were you, I'd apologize," he told me. I couldn't help but laugh.
"Do you know who you're talking to?" I sneered.
He looked at me up and down while he crossed his arms.
"Yeah, a shithead."
My mouth dropped and he just looked at me and started to walk away.
