Saving Myself || A Drarry Story

III: Care of Magical Creatures

Yawning into his bowl of porridge, Draco wasn't really listening to Theo and his crazy suggestions about Quidditch and how to beat Slytherin, but he nodded and grunted every once in a while. When his bowl was taken up by somebody, he should have known who it was.

"This stuff is disgusting. How do you even eat it?"

"Put it down, Potter, " Blaise said.

"Fine, " he huffed, but instead of setting it the table, Harry dumped it on Draco's head, causing the blonde to jump up and he didn't notice when Blaise had cleaned it up with his wand. "Oh, did I make Malfoy mad?"

Draco had to fight to keep his anger in check as he said through gritted teeth, "Wouldn't you like to know."

Harry glared at him again before walking over to the Slytherin table, sitting on the opposite side of Ron, facing away from Draco.

"What was that for, anyway?" Draco grumbled. "It was unprovoked."

Blaise nodded. "At least you're going to beat him in Quidditch."

Draco grinned while Theo added, "Potter is no match for us."

"Hear, hear, " Draco said, raising his glass to Theo slightly. "No match at all. It'll be an easy win."

Blaise bumped Theo with his elbow, telling him, "Then you'll surely have Lovegood at your arm."

"Shut up, " Theo blushed.

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Care of Magical Creatures was usually a quiet class with no distractions or unforeseen events. But Draco groaned when he saw on his time tables that they had the class with Slytherin.

Hagrid, the gamekeeper and the Professor for Care of Magical Creatures, was a big man but he was often too easy-going on students that couldn't keep their mouths shut, such as Harry Potter, who did well in the class and seemed, at least to Draco, to actually enjoy the strange creatures that Hagrid always had, though he never acted like it when Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger showed up.

With his left hand, Draco put his quill in his school bag while Theo asked, "D'you think there will be something new? Last year was . . ." Theo shuddered. "Terrible."

Last year, Hagrid had brought something called Blast-Ended Skrewts that we're beastly things. They resembled lobsters without shells for about a month before growing a sort of grey armour.

"I hope they all ate each other, " Draco admitted. "I really do."

Blaise said, "I heard he caught a baby unicorn."

Theo scrunched up his face. "Don't they only like the 'feminine ways' and I don't feel like dressing like a girl."

"Why would you even think of dressing like a girl?" Draco asked, his eyebrows furrowed in amused confusion. "Why is that the first thing that comes to your mind?"

Theo blushed while Blaise and Draco laughed. When the class began, Hagrid said loudly, "Today, we are goin' to be handlin' Nifflers."

Draco heard somebody suck in a breath behind him and he turned around, seeing Harry Potter with an excited gleam in his large, emerald eyes. It was quickly replaced by a vehement look.

"What in Merlin's name are you staring at?"

Draco rolled his eyes and turned back to face Hagrid, who said, "Yer all goin' to be working in groups of at least two. No more than four."

Draco, Blaise, and Theo automatically partnered up. The rest of the class had gotten into groups and the only person left was Harry Potter, who, apparently, was abandoned by his friends.

Hagrid told him, "You can work by yerself, if yer want to."

Harry nodded, retrieving a small niffler from the pen Hagrid was keeping them in. He held the Niffler carefully, doing his best not to startle it.

Their task was to write down the different parts of its body on a diagram, but Harry was too busy playing with the little thing to care about the actual assignment.

He sat under a tree with low hanging branches and leaves, careful to stay out of sight of the other students. He held the Niffler up in his palms, his eyebrows furrowing at the small creature in his hands. "You're cute, "

The Niffler cocked its head curiously.

"I like this class the best, " Harry told it. "It's relaxing at times. Or exhilarating. Don't you think?"

The Niffler sniffed his hand expectedly and bit his finger very hard.

Angrily, Harry strutted over and almost threw it back into the pen, ignoring Hagrid, who was yelling. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he went back over to his stuff, writing everything for the assignment and giving it to Hagrid.

He sat back down under the tree, scowling at nothing in particular. Was it just him that everything hated? Everyone, and it seemed like everything, hated him to bits so how would that Niffler be different? Hell, his own parents couldn't stand to look at him.

Harry sighed, leaning his head onto his knees, one thought ringing in his head; I need a drink.

Admittedly, Harry wanted to be liked, but he didn't know how to be nice. Ever since he was young, people close to him had been mean to him, so he was quick to learn that nothing in this useless life was kind or loving.

He had never been hugged or kissed or held closely or even spoken of kindly. There was always an air of hostility whenever someone spoke to him, but he had no intentions of having somebody to be with him at Hogwarts because he secretly feared that he would push them away and harm them before they could do the same to him.

He learned to push and pull away quickly before people could hurt him. Harry learned that at a very young age when he had a best friend named Dudley Dursley, a mean bully who really loved to hit people. Harry had thought of them friends, but that was quickly proven wrong when Dudley let a gang of older boys beat him up until he bled.

Then, when he was sniffling and bleeding when he arrived at Potter Manor, his father had hit him for crying like a little girl.

Harry, who was still sitting beneath the tree, clenched his jaw and felt the familiar feeling of anger pulsing through his bloodstream and he longed to punch somebody. Hard. And preferably in the face.

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