I Understand

Classes

Draco's day took a turn for the worst.

It had happened as soon as he stepped into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Granted, he was expecting this kind of treatment, he was an ex-Death Eater, he had the Dark Mark. But this was juvenile.

A Tripping Hex, then after he got up, a Swollen Tongue charm, that made is tongue swell into the size of a golf ball. He then walked to the hospital wing and got it fixed.

Madam Pomfrey quickly sorted things out and gave him a small breakfast since he was likely to miss it. She didn't ask any questions, but looked as if she wanted to.

Then Draco thought, she knows. His mother must have owled her.

Over the summer, he would look at his Mark for hours and hours on end, wishing it would disappear. But it didn't, and there was no known way to get rid of it. 

At first, Draco had just wanted to tear it off. But for a long time he resisted. Then one night, it was late, some would call it early, he broke. He tried to rip off the dreadful thing, but his mother came in when she heard the painful screaming.

When she healed it, the Mark was back, just as horribly undamaged it had been.

Then, he tried again with a knife, that hadn't worked either. 

But the pain took his mind away.

Now his left forearm had rows and rows of thin scars.

Funny, the scars seemed to distort the Mark into something different, and that made Draco feel better about it.

When he left the hospital wing, he headed immediately to his first class, Charms. It was a little odd that all the 8th years would be sharing most classes, considering that not all of them were interested in the same N.E.W.Ts. But if this was how it was going to be, he had to get used to it.

Before he entered the class, he was interrupted by the annoying voice of Weasley.

"Oi! Malfoy! I saw your swan dive this morning! I give it and 8 out of 10. It would be perfect if you had landed on your face." The Weasel said laughing at Draco.

Draco whipped around and snarled, "You would know about swan dives Weasel, I've seen you on a broom. Flying would be to generous of a term. It was more like you falling then catching yourself just before you bust your fat arse." Draco spat.

Weasel had turned red in the face, and looked as if he was about to yell, but was cut off by Granger, "Ronald. He's not worth it. Come on, class is about to start." She walked off, the rest of the Golden Trio on her heals.

As they passed, Draco smirked, "Yeah, you should listen to your Mudblood," He almost physically flinched at the word, he had never liked saying it, but he was a Malfoy, "girlfriend. She's the only one that would stoop low enough to date you." 

Ron whipped around, wand pointing right at Draco's face, but Draco didn't move, with his eyes he silently dared Weasley to do it. Wanted Weasley to do it.

Then the Golden Boy himself spoke for the first time that morning, "He's not worth it." He said it quietly, then reached and pushed Weasley's hand lower.

That stung. Draco didn't know why, but hearing that from Saint Potter hurt. He didn't show it though. He watched the Trio walk into the classroom, and he felt his left forearm burn. It did that every now and a again.

It was like an itch, and it wouldn't go away easily.

Draco didn't think he would survive this year.