Draco's Mudblood - Draco Malfoy Fan Fiction - *Year One*

The Exception Slytherins

Tracey Davis was barely a month into her first term at Hogwarts, and it was not going as expected.

Tracey was raised, as many young pureblood witches, to act like royalty. She was to be polite, sit up straight, keep her elbows off the dinner table and speak in a soft, gentle manner. Speaking out of turn was punishable; speaking inappropriately was a heinous crime. Childish behaviour was despicable. Back home, 'tomfoolery' was not to be tolerated.

Tracey, however, was no longer home.

Or so she thought.

Tracey had loved 'tomfoolery' growing up. She'd read books written by genius minds, and then hid them when she got them taken away. In secret she learned to cast spells to stumble even the nimblest of dancers, make inanimate objects rise up behind her like an army of dogs, and even made contraptions to throw pies into people's faces and take pictures at the results. Her idols were those of Hogwarts, where it seemed anyone could get away with just about anything, and she'd dreamt of outdoing them since she learned to read. The thought of her name in the books was enough to keep her sane for the eleven years with her parents.

Executing that plan, however, was not going very well.

Her pranks really were harmless. She made a roast chicken dance on the tables and she cast flower pedals to explode over the entrance hall. She even animated small pieces of paper to float around like butterflies. In contrast to the pranks two Gryffindor boys were pulling -- flipping desks and exploding all the ink pots on the second floor -- her practical jokes were pleasant.

But for some reason, her jokes went 'too far': One student was so surprised by the sight of the dancing chicken that he started choking; another tripped on a pile of flower petals and sprained their ankle; numerous complaints from students claimed that the butterflies attacked them, and showed off papercuts as proof when they tattled to their professors.

Every student in passing gave Tracey weary looks, as though terrified she might attack them next. Attack, they claimed. The Slytherin girl attacked me.

All she wanted was to make people laugh, and all she'd achieved was infamy and a few detentions.

- - -

Daphne Greengrass was having similar issues.

Her family had raised her with only the purest of families. The Parkinsons and Bulstrodes were there for her entire childhood, so even if she didn't consider herself particularly close with their daughters, she didn't mind the company. Add in her naturally reserved nature and it made the most sense to stick with the friends she already had as opposed to making new ones.

That didn't mean she wasn't disappointed when no one wanted to talk to her, though.

Her sorting had gone exactly as everyone thought it would. She knew from the second she was old enough to know anything that she would be sorted into Slytherin, but there was still a small part of her that wished for Hufflepuff that day. She knew the reputation most Slytherins had, and although she knew she fit in best with those of the same ambitious nature, determination, and cleverness as her, she couldn't help but wish her kind nature would overpower her natural Slytherin traits.

Suffice it to say, it did not.

Instead she was sorted Slytherin and subjected to the girls she'd known almost her entire life. It made things easier, really. She told herself relentlessly that she was too quiet to make friends on her own, so having a predetermined group was ideal.

But it didn't help to dull the ache. Every student steered clear of her and her green tie as though she were a rabid dog. No one wanted to work with her in classes, no one interacted with her outside her own House, some students even yelped when they made eye contact with her. She hadn't said a word to anyone outside of her House, but it didn't seem to matter.