The Joys of Being a Gryffindor || Harry Potter

TWO

Tomorrow was not better.

"Wake up, Malfoy!"

Draco was awoken by the feeling of sunlight scorching his eyelids. He jerked awake in panic, only to see that his curtains had been drawn back and Weasley standing by the window. It didn't take a genius to realise that he had opened the room curtains in order to prematurely wake Draco up. The light almost blinded him, turning everything to white, except for the bloody flaming locks on Weasley's head.

Draco lurched sideways, trying to remove the spots in his vision and adjust to the light.

He heard Finnegan and Thomas sniggering along with Weasley but was too disorientated to say something snarky back.

A moment of confusion followed as he wondered why he was in a Gryffindor dormitory with Blood Traitors but was quenched as it all rushed back. The humiliation, hatred, and hostility that had been the Sorting Ceremony.

A horrifying thought struck him. Cold dread pooled in his stomach, and he suddenly felt dizzy and nauseous.

His parents would likely know by now. Some Slytherin prat would have sent an Owl to their parents detailing his sorting, and they would have frantically Owled Lucius and Narcissa to ensure that they did not approve of this, and they would have received the letter and currently be deciding on how to proceed.

He knew it wouldn't be good. They probably wouldn't disown him, because it was far too late for another heir, but they certainly wouldn't treat him the same. Cuts from his fortune, no letters, refusal to buy him school supplies for a school that had failed them. That would begin to happen soon, he knew.

"Did you have to do that?" A small voice said.

Potter.

It took Draco a moment to realise he wasn't talking to him but to Weasley. A distracted glance out of the curtains showed that Weasley had flushed red. Longbottom was watching, terrified, from the door.

"It was just a joke." Weasley said, still sniggering but looking abashed. Draco would enjoy his squirming, but he felt too awful with fear to even register it.

A few moments later, Draco pulled himself from the bed and pulled the curtains shut carefully. A wave of light-headedness hit him as he stood, sending him scrambling to grab the bed post. It passed quickly, a reminder that he hadn't eaten last night.

"Forgotten how to stand? Or is standing beneath Malfoys?" It was Finnegan this time. Draco was sure that he'd never met him before, so Finnegan could only be joining in because it was funny. Therefore, he didn't deserve a reply.

Draco ignored him, picking up his robes, and strode to the bathroom as best a stuck up 11-year-old can do. Once inside, he leaned against the door and sighed.

He would get through this. He would.

He was a Malfoy.

It only took him a few minutes to change, though longer than it should have as he found himself physically unable to put on his Gryffindor tie for a few beats. When he was finally able to put it on, grimacing all the while, he risked a look in the mirror before glancing away again, hating the contrast of the scarlet against his pale skin and hair.

A moment later, he glanced at the gel in his hand, contemplating whether or not to use it. Mother always said it made him look smarter. With this in mind, he gelled it back primly - though the sound of Weasley banging impatiently on the door forced him to stop prematurely.

"Come on Malfoy! You may be a girl, but you don't have to take as long as one!"

Imbecile. He probably that was a good insult. In fact, all he'd done was give Draco an idea. He smirked, feeling more like himself.