Henrietta Potter || Draco Malfoy

6 - Second Year Spats

Ron and I missed the train!

Well, it wasn't our fault. The barrier on the platform had somehow closed and we could not get through.

So, we did the only sensible thing our twelve-year-old selves could think of.

We stole Ron's dad's car and flew it to school.

It was actually quite fun, right up until the end that is, when we were nearly crushed to death by the Whomping Willow.

And we got in trouble for hurting it. I mean - how unfair is that?!

A first year had taken a particular strange liking to me. Colin Creevey. He carried a camera around with him and begged me to take a picture with him. He even asked if I could sign it.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Oh great. Draco Malfoy had overheard. Typical.

"Everyone queue up!" He continued, roaring to the crowd around us. "Henrietta Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No I'm not," I said angrily, clenching my fists. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," Colin piped up, to my horror.

"Jealous?" Draco said, who didn't need to shout anymore; half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

"Eat slugs, Malfoy." Ron said angrily. Crabbe, who stood next to Draco like a bodyguard, started rubbing his conker-like knuckles in a menacing way.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," Draco smirked. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house."

Both Ron and I simultaneously lunged towards him, brandishing our wands, but Crabbe and Goyle stepped in front of him, protecting the little coward.

And then there was Professor Lockhart. He was the absolute worst. He was an egotistical, self-obsessed narcissistic twat. It was laughable that Professor Dumbledore ever appointed him as a teacher. In our first lesson he made us do a quiz based on himself. I mean, who does that? Hermione seemed to love him though, even after he made us three clear up a room full of crazy pixies.

I also learnt a new word this year, thanks to Draco Malfoy. I would also soon discover it was one of his favourites too.

I had been woken up stupidly early by Oliver Wood one morning to get in a Quidditch training session. I grumpily made my way down to the pitch and yawned all the way through Oliver's boring lectures. By the time Ron and Hermione had come down to watch, after breakfast, we still hadn't got on our brooms.

And then, finally as we were about to mount them, the bloody Slytherin team came marching onto the pitch.

"Flint!" Oliver bellowed at the Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now! I booked it!"

"Ah," Marcus Flint said grinning, "but I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. I, Professor Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch pitch, owing the need to train their new Seeker."

I was about to suggest to Oliver that we duck out and call it quits seeing as we had already been at it for three hours when, out from behind the six large figures before us, came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face.

It was Draco bloody Malfoy.

"Oh, this is just bloody fantastic!" I couldn't help but yell out loud, rounding on him. "You?! A Seeker?! Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke?!"

"Oh, you'd better believe it, Potter," he drawled, his grey eyes glinting. "And just look what my father bought the whole team."

I looked in horror as they all held out brand new, highly polished broomsticks.

"What's happening?" Asked Ron as he and Hermione joined us from the stands. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," Draco said smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good aren't they?" Draco bragged. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives, I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter as though Draco had said something exceptionally amusing.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," Hermione piped up sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

I sniggered as the smug look on Draco's face instantly fell.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Well. I had no idea what that meant but it caused such an uproar to everyone except myself and Hermione. And then Ron tried to hex Draco but it backfired because of his broken wand and he ended puking up slugs. Gross.

It turned out that Mudblood was the worst thing you can call a Muggle-born witch or wizard. It didn't surprise me that Draco knew this word.

Draco Malfoy being a Seeker meant I had the joy of playing against him at our first Quidditch match of the season - Gryffindor against Slytherin.

"All right there, Scarhead?" Draco yelled as we both hovered above the game on our broomsticks, positioning ourselves to look for the Snitch.

I ignored him, trying to avoid a Bludger which kept aiming for me. Fred and George had to hover round me, making sure to hit the Bludger at Draco whenever they could.

This was not normal, the Bludger had somehow gone rogue.

"Training for the ballet, Potter?" Draco yelled gleefully as I was forced to do a stupid kind of twirl in mid-air to dodge the Bludger.

"If I was then I'd still be better at it than you!" I hollered back, glaring at him in hatred.

And then I saw it - the Golden Snitch! It was hovering inches above Draco's left ear. The stupid git didn't even see it through his laughter.

Before I went for it, the Bludger came back and smacked me hard in the arm, cracking my bone beneath. Despite being blinded with tears of pain, I continued to soar towards Draco, a look of surprise on his face as I snatched the Snitch right from under his pointed nose.

That stupid Lockhart ruined my moment of glory though; by vanishing the bones in my arm. He really was a grade A idiot. I spent a whole night in the hospital wing growing the bones back.

Still, it had been worth it to see Draco Malfoy cry.

***