Chapter Text
The room was quiet besides the low crackle of the fire in the hearth. He sat alone in an armchair, staring into the flames. The fire's dancing flames were reflected in his grey eyes. He was thinking.
Regrets.
Draco Malfoy regretted many things. They were the scenes that plagued his waking hours. In the silence they would creep out of the depths of his mind. They always did.
Sometimes they were big events that could have changed everything.
The first was from long ago. He frowned as he remembered it.
He was young. He was excited. He was finally going to Hogwarts. He was finally going to be free.
Draco had heard lots about Harry Potter. What wizard hadn't? But he had heard more than most.
And it wasn't usually good.
For years his father had talked and he had listened. And he had believed everything he had said as all children do.
He had sat on that train and he should have excited. He should have been debating lessons and sorting and teachers. He should have been talking about dormitories and new friends and quidditch. But he wasn't. Instead he was thinking about that boy. The boy his father had talked about. The boy who was on this train right now.
Harry Potter.
He wanted to meet him. Yes, he wanted to meet him. He wanted to Know what all the fuss was about. At least that's what I tried to tell myself
But first excitement.
Train stations. Half-giants. Boats rowed across the lake. Hogwarts. The great castle towering over them. He almost forgot about Harry.
They stood waiting outside of the Great Hall. Draco looked around and easily found the boy he was looking for. How couldn't he? Everyone who knew anything of the magical world was staring at him.
Draco took a breath. Smoothed down his robes and strode forward. He stood in front of Harry and the first thing he noticed was his eyes. Bright green. And his hair. It was a mess but there was something almost endearing about it.
"It's true then, what they're saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
Why did I say it like that?
"This is Crabbe and Goyle. And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Merlin, could I have sounded anymore arrogant?
The ginger haired boy stood beside Harry snickered.
"Think my name's funny, do you? I've no need to ask yours. Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."
And there's nothing wrong with that you entitled prick.
"You'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
I wouldn't even want to be friends with me.
Draco stook out his hand for Harry to shake. And that's how you make friends with the boy who lived.
"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."
Draco stared. Why would he turn him down? Didn't he know who he was? Why wouldn't he want to be friends? No-one wants to be friends with someone who talks like that.
Why couldn't I just have been nice?
Sometimes they were smaller things but they were equally as horrible.
"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in on pure talent."
He hadn't asked his father to buy him onto the team. Draco had talked about Quidditch a lot and his father had obviously understood his need. After Harry had got onto the quidditch team he had to be on his too. He couldn't let him be better than him.
And anyway as seeker he could just copy what Harry did last year. He had watched him during games a lot. For research purposes. You keep telling yourself that.
"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."
There it is. That's the moment when you fucked it all up.
Like you fuck up everything.
It all went wrong from there. What had he expected? He knew what that word meant. He knew he shouldn't use it. He was copying his father. Draco frowned as they all walked away.
Why did he feel regret?
Then there were those times he said things that were just plain stupid.
Draco hadn't exactly meant to get attacked by the Hippogriff. He had just wanted attention. More like Harry's attention. Harry had looked amazing on the Hippogriff. Oh yes that's a completely straight thing to think. He wanted to look like that too. Of course that was my reasoning.
He had to pretend though. Pretend it was all part of his plan to get Hagrid fired. Pretend that was exactly what he wanted. After all it had made his father proud. You don't have to do anything that dick says.
Now he was here waiting to watch an execution. He didn't want to but he had been dragged down there. After all it was crucial to watch the end of his plan come to an end.
"Ah, come to see the show?"
"You! You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"
"Hermione, no! He’s not worth it."
Draco smirked. The next second he was being punched in face.
You bloody deserved it too.
Then there were those small moments. Forgotten by most.
But not by him.
He hadn't meant to run straight into Harry. Especially not after the ferret incident. He had been walking quickly though. Trying to escape a conversation that had quickly been turning foul.
But there he was books thrown across the floor. Fallen on his back. Draco leaned down to help him pick up his books. Finally.
"Shove off, Malfoy"
Draco turned to look at him.
"I'm trying to help you."
Harry just glared. Merlin you've always been stubborn.
"Fine. I'll leave you be."
Draco stood and marched off down the corridor. Determined not to look back. He could hear Harry muttering behind him. He couldn't quite catch what he was saying besides one word.
"Dickhead."