Papillon

02 - la pluie

C H A P T E R 0 2

Draco

Ravenclaws liked to talk a lot, Draco noticed. Only seated for a few seconds he already got loaded with questions; What was Beauxbatons like? Did it look like Hogwarts? Did they always wear those blue robes and those funny looking hats?

Funny, Draco thought, what was funny about their hats? Ignoring their questions, he leaned closer to Fleur whom sat beside him. 'I wonder what Durmstrang will do to top our entrée,' he said to her in French. At times like that he was happy he spoke a language others didn't understand; it kept curious Ravenclaws out of his conversations.

At only the mention of the word Durmstrang, the doors of the Great Hall once again were swung open; revealing the beasts of the Northern school lined up in neat rows of two. With sticks in their hands they shouted and hit the Hall's stone floor. It was funny how Draco didn't feel intimidated at all but rather felt worried about Hogwarts' floor getting ruined. He lifted up his face again to take a good look at the men, only to get surprised by them breaking out into a sudden run. Fleur took ahold of his arm, a bit shocked by how brutal the men were. Other Hogwarts students also gasped; equally as surprised as Fleur. Draco placed his hand atop of Fleur's and gave her a small smile as a reassurance. He wouldn't let any of those Northern beasts get near the girls, he decided then and there.

Followed by the running students were Viktor Krum he saw earlier, looking straight ahead and ignoring everyone around him. They all stared at him with longing eyes, suddenly aware of having a celebrity in their midst. And of course, Headmaster of Durmstrang Igor Karkarov closed the parade of students. Dressed in white he couldn't stand out more — but wether that was a good thing, Draco didn't know. Rumor had it that he and Madame Maxime couldn't stand each other and therefore Draco also glared at him with stares of pure hate. The man didn't seem to notice though, only kept his eyes straight ahead as Krum had done. Reaching Hogwarts' Headmaster, Dumbledore, he exposed some awfully rotten teeth and embraced him in what could be called an awkward hug.

Fire suddenly passed by, almost scorching Draco's elbow, and transformed into a hawk before disappearing into nothingness. Cursing some words in French he gave the man responsible a glare of death. Yet he had to be honest; their entrance had also been quite exciting and the fire-hawk was a grand way to end it.

The students of Durmstrang chose to sit down at a table surrounded by Hogwarts students dressed with accents of green. 'That's the Slytherin table,' one of the Ravenclaws whispered. It sounded negative in her mouth and Draco looked over to their table. Nothing seemed to point out that any of the students were evil, beside from maybe a few irritated glares.

'What about that table?' Draco asked the same Ravenclaw, a girl with blonde hair. He pointed at the table where the boy he had seen before was seated. She giggled at his accent, but Draco ignored it with a steel face — waited patiently for her to answer.

'That's the Gryffindor table,' she finally replied. 'The table of the brave.' She laid a long emphasis on the word brave, giggling again and having some of her friends join her.

With a frown Draco gave them a confused look. 'Why is it that you find that amusing?'

The girl shrugged. 'Perhaps because that's the only thing they are. Don't get me wrong, but there aren't a lot of smart students amongst them; except for Granger, that is.'

Draco didn't care; he only cared about the boy. Wether he was smart or brave or evil. As he looked over his shoulder again, his eyes found the boy's greens — but this time the boy quickly looked away, almost feeling caught glancing at Draco himself. He felt a slight blush appear on his cheeks but it disappeared as fast as it came when Dumbledore cleared his throat to make an announcement.