when they became villains [draco malfoy] {book 2}

Year 6 - 132

Draco Malfoy had been chosen. And he was proud of that. Because when the rest of the world had turned on him, on his father, his family, there still was some who had chosen him. It was an important task - possibly the most important he would ever get. Full of desire for revenge and to return his father to the Dark Lord's good grace, to have the man return home, the boy had easily taken up the task, the order of the Lord. He hated the world that he was sure hated him back and he saw no problem in that. He had always considered Hogwarts would be a better place without the old hag Dumbledore as a headmaster and now was the perfect time to carry out his wishes. Not that Draco himself would stay at the school for much longer. By the time he had finished the task, he'd probably not even be in need of further education yet still... Deep inside Draco had convinced himself he was doing everyone a favour.

Potter too had always been in his way, whatever it was Draco had set to do - Quidditch, acceptance of peers - Harry Potter always got the spotlight whatever he did and this was the year Draco would take it from him. He'd execute the man Potter liked the same as the latter had thrown his father into Azkaban. And when the world would be in the Dark Lord's hands, Draco would throw the stupid Potter to rot in a prison cell himself - reverse the cards on the lad for it was obvious that on their way back to Hogwarts scarhead had hid and listened in on conversations, trying his best to undermine the blonde. Harry Potter hadn't had enough with throwing one member of the Malfoy family in prison the same as Draco hadn't had enough of revenge with just breaking the lad's nose.

It was just Draco's brilliant luck that somebody had found Potter lying on the floor of the train and brought him to the school, leading him through the doors of the Great Hall and to his table, two tissues stuck up his both nostrils to stop the blood flow.

The boy who never dies yet constantly puts everyone else in mortal danger was how Ninomae had once described him and Draco couldn't have agreed more.

His knife made a loud screech as it cut through the meat and rammed into the plate below it. Students chattered all around, each involved in their own conversations and nobody had heard the screetching over the loudness of the Great Hall. Draco inhaled a breath to contain his anger and cut the pork he had set on his plate into an even smaller piece before placing it in his mouth and chewing. His eyes bore into the back of Potter's head as he did so and Draco contemplated just how easy it would've been to send a non-verbal, wandless hex the lad's way, smack his head against the table once again, fracture the bone of his nose entirely. Draco knew he could do that and his fists gripped on the cutlery tightly, a few veins popping out on said hands from the effort he was putting in to contain himself.

Draco had spent the whole summer training, his crazy aunt pulling him to the dungeons to practice spells and hexes of all sort every morning, hiding them from view of any nosy Ministry officials. He felt he had learned more than he had in the entirety of the five years he had gone to Hogwarts already and whenever he recalled all that he had successfully accomplished, his chest swelled with pride of a sort he had never felt before. The boy supposed that's what being powerful felt like and if completing the task was what he had to do to remain feeling this way forever, he was ready to do it with ease. Sure, Draco had always hated the idea of death, but everyone died sooner or later anyway, right? Dumbledore had lived off his share of life already.

A loud laugh came from his left side and he didn't have to look to know who it was that had laughed. She was laughing together with all of her roommates and Draco thoroughly despised that her laugh still stood out to him the most. He had certainly missed her, but he also most certainly couldn't act on it.

Over the summer Draco had come to a conclusion - one he knew would appeal the lot of his family if he was ever to speak it and one that finally eased his worries of what he had had the previous year when he had thought he was going to fall in love with somebody who wasn't pure. The conclusion was that he had never been falling in love with half-mudblood, subconsciously he must've known she wasn't of lesser blood therefore he had learned to respect her. Muggles and mudbloods were still creatures of lesser value in the world they lived in. Astrid Ninomae wasn't one of them. She was the Dark Lord's daughter.