Draco cheered up immensely the following morning when he saw that Potter and the Weasel were in fact present during breakfast.

And his face lit up even more when they received a Howler from the Weasley mother which caused them to go running from the hall in shame.

"Did you see their stupid faces?" He cried through his laughter, banging his fist on the table in delight as literal tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Yes, we all did," I shrugged indifferently, helping myself to more scrambled egg whilst Pansy squealed with glee on my other side.

Good god, I was surrounded by little children.

And not only that, thanks to Harry Potter killing off last year's Defence teacher, we were subjected to the moron from the bookshop signing, who clearly had no idea about anything other than himself.

"Oooo, but he's so gorgeous, though," Pansy sighed, looking dreamily off into the distance after I had pointed this out whilst the three of us attempted our homework by the common room fire.

"Stop it, you're starting to sound like my mother," I sighed, tossing my unfinished homework to the side. Stuff that shit; I refused to write an essay on Gilderoy Lockhart's Top Ten Ideal Christmas Gifts and Where to Buy Them.

"You don't think he's good looking?" Draco asked me, his voice unnaturally light as his eyes seemed to dart apprehensively over to me from where we were sat at opposite ends of the sofa.

"He's an old man with a serious narcissistic disorder," I explained, removing a magazine from my bag to flick through, "not really my type, Drac."

"Oh," he blinked; an oddly curious expression upon his face, "what is your type, then?"

I looked up at him properly. We never discussed things like this usually. But then again, we were twelve.

"I dunno," I shrugged, chewing my lower lip, "I never thought about it before."

His eyes pierced mine and I suddenly found myself quite vigorously flicking through my magazine, for some reason finding it difficult to look at him.

"Well, if you ask me, I like them blonde," Pansy prattled, missing the fact that no one actually asked her. "And with twinkling silver eyes."

She smiled coyly up at Draco from where she was sat on the floor by his feet like some kind of loyal pet. He shifted awkwardly, suddenly looking uncomfortable. I tried to suppress a smirk.

"What about you, Draco?" she cooed, a look of hopefulness shining upon her face, "what kind of girl do you like?"

"Who says he's not into boys?" I queried at once, watching with interest as pink spots appeared on Draco's cheeks. "I mean, based on the way he can't stop talking about a certain Gryff-"

"Can we please just drop this?" he snapped at once, an angry scowl on his face as he jumped irritably to his feet. "I'm going to find Crabbe and Goyle. At least they don't try and involve me in stupid girly gossip."

Pansy and I watched him strop away. I shook my head, not even bothering to point out that he was the one who had started it.

*****

"Hurry up, Blaire. We don't want to miss him!"

I took another slow, deliberate bite of my toast as I stared at Pansy who was bobbing up and down in her seat as though she needed a piss.

"What's the rush?" I drawled lazily. "We're only going to miss him making a prat out of himself. Again."

"It's his debut on the pitch!" Pansy spluttered incredulously. "We need to support him!"

"Chill, Pans," I muttered, rolling my eyes, "it's just a training session."

For some reason she refused to go on ahead without me, so, getting fed up with her pleading agitated face, I abandoned my breakfast and went with her.

As I predicted, it was all about Draco proving his dick was bigger than Potter's.

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker," he boasted loudly to the Gryffindor team, whose training session had come to a sudden unexpected interruption.

It had all been planned, of course. Draco had explained gleefully the night before that Marcus Flint had found out especially when Gryffindor were going to practice so that they could surprise them with their new brooms.

"One up better than Potter's," Draco said smugly; excitement dancing in his eyes as he showed off his broomstick to me and an awestruck Pansy. "I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he discovers my father bought the whole team one."

I felt oddly bad for him that his father had such little faith in his ability to get on the team through his own merit, that he felt the need to throw gold at the situation.

I didn't say anything though; just smiled pityingly at him and agreed that yes, his broomstick was better than Harry Potter's.

So, here I was, watching as my best friend called Hermione Granger a Mudblood right in her face, all because she pointed out what everyone else was already thinking.

Draco was laughing so hard when Ron's hex backfired causing him to vomit up slugs that I don't think he even noticed me shaking my head and leaving.

I wished I'd just stayed inside and finished my breakfast.

******

When everyone thought Harry Potter was the heir of Slytherin and the one opening up the Chamber of Secrets, I snorted.

"They have met the guy, right?" I scoffed in utter bafflement, "he literally crashed a car into a tree."

"That was Weasley, but yeah... facts," Draco smirked, pleased that I was coming around to his way of thinking. "Saint Potter, the Mudblood's friend. As if he could be Slytherin's heir!"

Pansy giggled gleefully as if he'd just said the wittiest thing, pawing eagerly at his arm.

I just rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to filing my nails. Pansy was getting more and more handsy with Draco as the year progressed and it was beginning to piss me off.

Draco, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice that she had a glaringly obvious crush on him. Or if he did, he didn't mind. I wondered what it would be like if they ever became boyfriend and girlfriend, and it gave me such a nasty burning feeling in the pit of my stomach that I had to stop thinking about it.

Not sure what that was about. Must have been something I ate.

*****

Second year did not end well for Draco.

His father was sacked as a school governor after it had turned out that he had planted a murderous diary on an eleven year old girl, resulting in a monster being released into the school, almost killing everyone on-site.

And Gryffindor won everything. Again.

"Never mind, there's always next year," I sympathised during the end of year feast as I dished roast parsnips onto his plate.

Draco said nothing; too busy grinding his teeth together as he glared fixedly upon Harry Potter who was once again dancing on the Gryffindor table to a chorus of loud cheers.

Still, at least he got rid of that twat Lockhart.

*****