dear draco,

four

Draco Malfoy is much taller than the last time I saw him.

He stands in the middle of the train corridor talking to his friends, without a care in the world about anyone who might want to get past. On any other occasion, I would have something to say about his nerve. But today is the first day back at school and I would rather it be a wholly positive and enjoyable experience, so I try to sneak past unnoticed.

It has only been three months, but he has grown an awful lot; his jaw is more defined, his frame is manlier. His hair is longer now and flops over his forehead; white-blond strands tickling a delicate brow. I didn't think it was possible, but he seems to stand with an even more egotistical presence as well, and radiates more arrogance than ever before.

This is exactly what everyone who hates Draco Malfoy needed – for him to get even better looking.

What remains unchanged is how pale he is. I have tanned over the summer, built up freckles and lighter hair, but Draco looks like has never seen the sun. His paleness is almost angelic, yet his eyes bear a hard expression. A warning of the devil beneath?

I don't think so. I think there is a lot more to Draco Malfoy than he lets anyone see. Being who he is, there are expectations and standards; God forbid anyone see him looking sensitive or emotional or kind.

All that said, I don't actually care about Draco Malfoy. I swear.

An angry shout and shove on my back makes me realise I have stopped in my tracks at the centre of the corridor. I start forward, trying to move on, but my own trunk stands in my way, and before I know it I have tripped over it, and-

And I am on my knees, staring at Draco's feet.

I swallow and grit my teeth, preparing myself for certain humiliation. This is great, just great. Blood rushes to my face as I stand up awkwardly and grab my bag.

When I look at Draco, the ghost of a smirk is visible on his lips. "Young, I know you're in love with me, but there's no need to worship at my feet." His friends snigger and I glare at them.

"Malfoy, I know you're a self-important idiot but there's no need to be so open about it." I give him my sweetest smile and try to push past.

Draco sticks out his arm and I walk right into it. People are shoving past us now, pressing me into him, but he doesn't even flinch. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

I groan inwardly as I realise I have actually tried to walk on without my trunk. I hope my cheeks aren't as red as they feel. "How gallant of you to remind me."

Dragging my heavy trunk onwards is exceptionally more difficult under Draco's intense gaze. He follows me down the corridor, breaking out into a smile every time I stumble. "It's a shame you're too proud to ask for help," he says. He leans against a compartment window, strolls forward to catch up with me, then leans again.

"It's a shame there's no one around who would actually help me."

"You'll never know if you don't ask, will you?"

"Oh, shut up."

Draco pulls a very serious face. "Now, now Young. You wouldn't want detention on your first day now, would you?"

I blink. "What?"

Draco breaks out into a smile, and if I didn't hate him so much, he might almost look cute. "Oh, you mustn't have heard," he says pleasantly. "You see, I'm a prefect now, Young. I can give you detention any time I want."

"You're-" I step away. "No way. You're not a prefect."

"That's right," he says happily. "Actually, I was just on my way to our first meeting."

"That's great." I walk on, and once again he follows. "I can't wait for you to abuse that position. Honestly, who chose you? Who's in charge of choosing prefects?"

"As I'm prefect and you're not," Draco replies evenly; "I wouldn't think into it that much. You wouldn't want to bruise your ego."

I roll my eyes. "If you don't mind," I say, "I'm going to go talk to my friends – some of whom actually deserved to get prefect."

"Ohhhh," he says solemnly. I speed up, but he's much faster than me, and stays on my heels. "I completely forgot," he purrs into my ear. I shrug him off. "The reason you didn't get prefect was because of Granger. You must be so upset."

"There are more important things in life than being a prefect," I snap.

He sticks out his bottom lip. "Of course."

I feel at my sides for my wand to shut him up, but once again, I've left it in my trunk. He snickers.

"Isobel!"

I look around to see Ron and Hermione weaving their way towards me. Both wear a look of simultaneous excitement and confusion; they are happy to see me - but why am I talking to Malfoy?

Draco clearly isn't thrilled to see them either, and he stops in his tracks with a grimace. "Hope to see you later, Young," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. And with that, he is gone.

"Isobel!"

I spin around just in time to see the bushy haired head of the girl throwing her arms around me. I grin and hug her back tightly, then stand back to see her properly. "How are you, Hermione?"

"Good, how are you? How was your summer?" she says eagerly, as I embrace Ron.

"Why was he bothering you?" says Ron, craning his neck to try see Draco.

I roll my eyes. "Don't worry about it. Just Malfoy being Malfoy."

Hermione frowns, looking at the carriage behind her. "Oh Isobel, we've so much to tell you but we have to go to the-"

"The prefect meeting," I finish, and she gives me an apologetic look. "You'll never guess who else is prefect," I say warily.

Hermione groans. "Malfoy? I'm not surprised, honestly. Who else could it have been?"

"Anyone but him," I say scornfully. "But whatever. Who cares, right? Do you know where Harry or Ginny are?"

Hermione points in the direction they came from. "Somewhere down there, I think. We'll see you later."

When I finally find Harry, Ginny and Neville, I realise that I have missed my friends even more than I thought. We talk and chat and laugh, and in minutes, I have forgotten all about Draco Malfoy.

If there is one place in the world that rivals my love for Hogwarts, it is the Hogwarts Express. There is no day of the year among Hogwarts students that is more exciting than the first of September, and trapped in here for two hours, this excitement cannot help but surge through the carriages, until the train is ready to burst with its own exhilaration.

Returning to our second home is unimaginably thrilling. I stare out the window, biting back a grin. The hills and valleys fold rapidly into each other as we chug past, a consistent and oblivious contrast to the magically ecstatic train. They are void of any human life, just endless, sweeping stretches of shades upon shades of bright, bright green. There is no going back now – we are on our way to Hogwarts again.