~Unknown Markings~

~Pilot~

Draco POV:

From a young child, I realized something was wrong. 

My mother tried to get me appointments with the doctor but my father always refused, saying that a Malfoy couldn't possibly go to the doctors for something as trivial as this. It was unbecoming. My mother disagreed. Frankly so did I, but I never said anything. 

Over the years I saw the cuts and bruises on my arms and legs get steadily bigger and more frequent. I began to ignore it over time but that does mean it doesn't sting like a bitch whenever it happens. There seemed to be no explanation for what was happening to me so we played it off as sensitive skin. That I was a boy who liked to play rough and easily got into a mess. 

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When I arrived at Hogwarts I could finally try to find out what was wrong with me. After all, I managed to exhaust all of the books at the Manor.

However, I got distracted easily. His name was Harry Potter. However, I didn't know it at the time. I remember waiting, being bunched in with a group of idiots, and my gaze wandering. A black mop of hair was the first thing to catch my eye. It was absolutely horrendous. His hair looked like someone had died rolled around in the mud and then was placed firmly on his head. Does he not use gel? Honestly, I don't even think gel could solve this. 

But that was all before he turned his face in my direction. My breath hitched as the piercing emerald eyes met mine leaving me speechless. For some reason, I was slightly annoyed that his black round glasses and his insufferable hair kept getting in its way. I examined every piece of his face committing it to memory and that's when I saw the pale unmistakable lightning scar. 

Desperate for some kind of communication with this enchanting boy, I put on my best Malfoy face, straightening my posture to look presentable. I took a few steps forward, training everyone's attention on me. "So it's true, then. What they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." I remarked as Harry Potter came to look me in the eyes again. My heart did a little summersault. I introduced him to my friends pointing behind me to the other pureblood boys. 

I heard a snicker come from somewhere in the crowd, and I was outraged, looking for the cause of the noise. How dare someone make fun of the Malfoy family. "Think my name's funny, do you? Well, no need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down-robe? You must be a Weasley." I snarked, quite proud of my deduction, but no use showing it. 

Slowly I turned back to Harry a look of indignation etched onto his face, his charming emerald eyes narrowed. I had to make this boy my friend, there was just something about him. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." I offered my hand, seeing no possible way for him to turn me down as I flashed him my winning smile, that my father had made me do on so many occasions.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks." he declared, leaving my hand untouched and my heart broken in only 11 words. From then on I hated him. 

Present Day --------------------------------------------

I was in the Slytherin common room studying for my O.W.Ls. Slytherin isn't exactly homey, with its dim lighting, some of which came from the dangling overhead candle-lit lights, the rest came from the fireplace. The table I was sitting at was a dark oak desk overflowing with textbooks, scrolls, quills, ink in addition there was a candle in the corner for more light. 

People often ask me why I start studying when the school years have only just begun. Two reasons. The first being that my father would shun me if I didn't pass every single one of my O.W.Ls with an O, an E could be tolerated but not without punishment. The second reason being I don't like people. Quite frankly they annoy me. Most people when they see me studying will leave me alone, but then there's Pansy and Blaise. Annoying gits. 

While being in the middle of writing a bloody sentence, it happened again. 

I gave a huff of annoyance as I peered over at my left arm to read the words that were forming. Potions Homework is due tomorrow. Groaning I turned my attention away from the painstakingly obvious message. Clearly, this message was not for me as I completed my potions homework three days ago; when it was assigned. Just out of pure amusement, I wrote on my arm just underneath this new message Obviously you wanker, don't be daft. Feeling rather pleased with this message I continued to work. 

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Harry POV:

Hermione had been on my case for ages about doing that blasted potions homework. It's not like I will fail, it's just one homework. Excluding the potions homework, we had to do last week. Besides Snape hates me. 

"Harry Potter!" I heard a shrill voice coming down from the girl's dormitory and prepared for the worst. 

"Yes, Hermione?" I asked feigning innocence. Pretending that I had not procrastinated the potions homework for the past three days. I was beyond hope because Hermione had enough. Her brown bushy stood on edge as she pierced me with her eyes. The chastising about to start. 

"Have you done your potions homework? I told you to get it done three days ago!" She exclaimed, her eyes livid as she awaited my response. 

"Well, you see-"

"So you haven't done it! Well Mr. Harry Potter I am done reminding you! Write it on your arm for all I care; for you will be the one with a missed deadline!" She cut me off. I waited patiently for her to be finished when she gave me a good idea. I quickly scribbled on my arm in wonky hand-writing Potions Homework is due tomorrow. I quickly got up to head out of the common room but turned to Hermione first.

"Thanks for the great idea 'Mione. I will make sure to do it tomorrow!" Her face was priceless like she couldn't imagine doing homework the day it was due. I shot her a goofy grin as I dashed up the stairs to the boy's dormitories. 

"Harry you are insufferable!" She shouted after me but I just pretended not to hear her. When I entered the room I saw Ron on the floor playing chess with Seamus. By the looks of it, Ron was winning but I went straight to my bed, flopping down on it making a big noise. The others ignored me to ensnared in their game. I rolled onto my back groaning as the day crashed down on top of me. 

In the corner of my eye, I see some writing appear on my arm right underneath what I had written. The handwriting was long and elegant, definitely someone with perfect penmanship. It had probably taken years of practice. The writing itself was enchanting but that was before I had even read what was written. Obviously you wanker, don't be daft. I was left puzzled about who could have done this. Was someone pranking him?