wrong ||| dramione

Year Three || Bruise

If there was one season that Draco liked, it was the beginning of autumn. And even though he never spoke about it, he felt that it was the time of year when nothing could go wrong. The wind ruffling his pale hair and blowing through his thin white shirt made him feel as if he was three all over again, and running - for he liked running, even though his father forbade him to do so in the house - made him feel as if he were flying. That was why he picked Quidditch as his favourite sport. Most of all in the world, Draco Malfoy liked to fly. 

When Hagrid - the brute, as Draco called him - mentioned the Hippogriff could fly - Draco looked up. Everyone was scared of the Hippogriff, including him. Only stupid Harry Potter somehow was upfront again.

- Well done, 'Arry. Well done. - came Hagrid's voice.

Draco was envious and terrified at the same time. Why oh why did he fail to do such simple things? "Always be first" his father would say. "Always try harder than most". And yet Draco never did. It was almost as if he didn't want to. But then he never asked himself what it was he actually wanted to do.

Even teasing and insulting Harry Potter seemed like work to Draco. Work that had to be done.

He pushed some Gryffindors aside and found a spot where he could see Harry better. Someone cried out - probably out of pain. Draco didn't care. He was eyeing Harry with envy and hatred.

Soon enough, bloody Potter was close friends with that creature. Oh look, now he was mounting it. Draco felt so enraged he nearly hurt his hand by sliding it down the trunk of the tree behind him.

His bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, didn't see anything. They were much too busy eyeing Harry's success. 

And Harry was off - flying through the air on the Hippogriff's back.

"Whatever. Flying a broom is much better than some weird animal" - Draco tried to convince himself. His eyes lost Potter and he dug into his pocket for an apple - his fifth one that day.

As he took out the apple and bit into it, he looked around the small group of fascinated girls who were still looking up at the sky. Only one of the girls wasn't fascinated at all, but rather worried.

Granger, her brown hair somewhat dishevelled and loose, was in her white shirt, but not wearing the usual school robes. One of her stockings was lower than the other - and she paced up and down the sun-light clearing, clearly thinking of Potter.

You might say she was in love with him.

Draco spat out the apple and accidentally hit Goyle with it.

- Oi -

- Shut up.

He pushed his bodyguards roughly aside and walked through the small crowd, making his way violently through as some screamed and Hagrid wanted to make some sort of reprimand - but was apparently too scared to do so.

- What's the matter, Granger, scared your scar-headed fiancé won't be back?

With the words out of his mouth, he didn't like how they sounded - "scared" and "scar" were too alike. He decided to make up for his mistake by smiling what he thought was his most victorious smile.

But Granger ignored him. 

This had never happened before. Draco was lost for a second. A couple of laughs could be heard from behind. Draco turned around, but this time Weasley wasn't around. Where was he, though?

Strange... it was almost as if she hadn't heard. 

- Oi... Granger... Hard of hearing, eh?

He walked up a little closer to her, and she, feeling his presence, looked up.