Not Just Our Story

Chapter 7: I Still Think of You

July 1992

Draco Malfoy

Summer came, and I was happily reunited with my parents. We Apparated to our manor, and I walked between them as we stepped on the gravel. I was pleased to see the familiar sight of albino peacocks and twinkling fairy lights. My luggage hovered behind us, and I was relieved to hold Mother's hand once more.

"So, who won the Quidditch Cup?" she asked.

"Gryffindor did," I shrugged. "It's a good thing Potter was there or they would've been steamrollered by Ravenclaw in the last match, and they'd suffer their worst defeat in three hundred years."

***

OddPAL1: Wait! Hold on.

Draco Malfoy: What?

OddPAL1: In the original book, after rescuing the Stone, Harry was unconscious in the hospital wing during the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You mean to say that he---I mean, she---was conscious the whole time?

Draco Malfoy: Weren't you listening?

OddPAL1: Oh, right. Snape saved the Stone. Sorry, I dozed off.

Draco Malfoy: (sigh) Moving on!

*** 

"Really?" Mother said. "And the House Cup?"

I smirked. "Slytherin won, of course. Dumbledore didn't look too happy about it. He looked as though he was going to give Gryffindor more points but decided against it." 

"Ah, yes," Father said, "that oaf who runs the school always tries to find an excuse to tip the scale in favor of his old House."

"He was in Gryffindor, wasn't he?" I asked.

"Indeed... nevertheless, we can do nothing about that now." Father reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. "How are your grades, Draco? Did you manage to secure the honor of being top of the class?"

"Yes, Father."

"And... the Mudblood?"

"Well, she scored the highest in our year. But I was at the top of my class in Slytherin!"

"Please don't tell me she outdid you in Charms and Potions," Father coldly expressed as he unlocked the door with a wave of his wand. "It was already humiliating enough that you were beaten by a Mudblood."

I defensively said as we entered, "It doesn't matter. It's not like she's better than me---"

"However, I thought otherwise, which is why I must ask you to do better next time."

"I will, Father, I will. Just watch me."

Dobby, our house elf, came forward to take my luggage to my room, and disappeared quickly.

"Very well then, Draco," Father said as he removed his black cloak. "Now, I've been reading a lot of your letters lately, and most of them are about Harriet Potter," he gave me an unsettling glance. "I take it you made friends with her?"

I tried to look neutral as I took off my coat and hung it in the rack, and talked as we proceeded to the dining room. "Yes, so you know what she's like. She's sweet, innocent, and kind, a friend to Mudbloods and blood traitors... she was sickening! Worst of all, she keeps on defending those worthless scums." 

"And apparently you tried to make trouble for her," Father said as he sat down at the head of our table. "Or so I've heard..."

"Yes, well, I did, but the fact is---"