Blue [DRARRY]

Chapter 5

Draco always took care of his books. It was almost funny how many people thought that because he was rich enough to replace a book if it got so much as a crease, that he didn't think he needed to respect them. Those people couldn't be more wrong. True, a lot of his books were worn, but in the well-loved way, not because he hadn't looked after them. In fact, in all his life, there was only one book he'd ever purposefully vandalised, but it had been for a good cause.

He was hating being a Malfoy more and more with every passing day, but he had to admit, he'd had some perks over the years thanks to that name. For example, second year, when his father had oh-so-subtly slipped Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron, Draco had slipped something else to another one of their Gryffindor group. It was true that Lucius hadn't exactly told Draco anything, but he'd had more of an idea about what was going to happen at Hogwarts than most students. That included the knowledge of who was going to be attacked. And, yes, maybe it had been a little threatening of him for the 'you'll be next mudblood' comment, but he hadn't been wrong. And if he hadn't ripped that page out of the book at Flourish and Botts and snuck it into Granger's bag, he had no doubts she'd have been the muggleborn to be found dead rather than only petrified. He was just glad she'd found it and started using that mirror; she was a little annoying, but she was a talented witch, anybody could see that. While he vaguely regretted ripping that page out, he admitted that a single page with the exact information she needed was much easier to smuggle to her than an entire book that she might just have disregarded. Especially when he couldn't have let anyone see him. If his father had, then that would be Hell for obvious reasons. If any of his peers had seen... well, no doubt they would trust him even less.

The point was, it was a very good thing that nobody had caught him.

Thankfully, he didnt have to worry about information on basiliks now. In fact, the book he was reading wasn't informational at all. It was mere fiction; a good choice for what he had hoped to be a relaxing evening. That, of course, was not what he got.

An unwanted distraction appeared just as he was relaxing, in the form of Pansy Parkinson. She did not look happy.

"We need to talk."

"What about?" Draco didn't even look up.

"Well, let's start with the hair."

"Honestly," Draco scoffed, "never heard of hair dye?"

"Why?"

"Because blonde is associated with my family, and I'd rather not be recognised as one of them, thank you very much."

Pansy scowled and plonked down on the sofa, but as far as possible away from him.

"What about your drama with Professor Snape? Care to explain that?"

"I told him to fuck off because he tried to 'talk sense' into me, and I wasn't having it. If you're asking about that because I lost us house points, then tough shit sweetheart. Prepare to lose more from him."

"And Quidditch? What's next Draco? Hanging out with mudbloods?"

Draco snapped his book shut, and stood, making Pansy jump. Turning to face her, grey eyes glaring, Draco couldn't help the anger burning bright and deep in his chest. How in Merlin's name had he managed to keep his sanity, spending so much time around her?

"Screw you Pansy. What I've done are my choices, my business. Not yours. You have nothing to do with it, no say, and certainly no way to change my mind. I'm done being the pathetic, racist, stereotypical Slytherin, you hear me? The term is muggleborn. Muggle. Born. Get that through your fucking head. Your attitude is vile, and believe me, I'm ashamed that I ever acted that way. I want nothing to do with you." He made towards his dorm, before pausing at the foot of the stairwell, and turning back, "And that goes for everyone else who's stuck in their prejudice pureblood ways."

---

The next morning, at breakfast, Draco was left alone by his former frends when he took a seat at the very end of the table, picking at his food as he continued with his book. He paused in his reading when a few figures stopped beside him, and looked up, preparing to snap. He stopped when he saw that the group was small, the pupils in it belonging to various years, but all sporting silver and green. Draco recognised them as the muggleborns who usually attempted to avoid the attention of those like Draco Malfoy.

"We wanted to thank you," one of the older ones - maybe a year younger than Draco - said.

"Thank me?" Draco cocked his head.

"Only," a younger one continued, "What you said to that Parkinson girl last night was... well, it was amazing. Really."

A first year coloured in the cheeks as he shyly added, "I didn't get bothered even once by the purebloods in my dorm after you did that."

A murmur of agreements ran through the small group, and Draco forced a small smile, though it was weak.

He hummed softly, "you're welcome."

The group sat by him, but they said nothing to him, leaving him to his book. And that was how events continued for the following days, and perhaps it was their plan to make Pansy's snide suggestion become true. Nobody made conversation with the blue haired boy, but at mealtimes, and evenings in the common room, Draco could be found indulging in his library book. And around him, sat the group of Slytherin muggleborns, using a Slytherin-worthy united front against the rest of the house to support him.