Dragon

Chapter One

Yes, I can fathom quite well what you're thinking, if you are an unfortunate customary witch or wizard. Draco Malfoy, that awfully prejudiced cowardly scum. Yeah, I get that all the time; it never had any effect at all on me, but you should know that. You get used to it after you attend a bloody school with morons like Harry Potter.

I'll bet my Hand of Glory (which took a ton of convincing to badger my father into buying for me), that there are many things you have never cared to notice about me. No one cares to look closer at me (save Pansy Parkinson), because the famous Harry Potter is currently gracing the world by breathing.

I'm second in my class in the academic field, only bested by that blasted mudblood, Hermione Granger. My father tells me that it is the ultimate shame to have a mudblood reigning over me in academics. In reply, I tell my father that I have a life; I don't study books every minute I waste space on this vile earth.

I beat Potter in dueling, or have outsmarted him twice. Back in my first year, I tricked him into thinking I would duel him in the trophy room, and then I alerted Filch. But Potter was a no-show. This either means he fell for the trick, or was too cowardly to show. Either way, I win. Or else Professor dratted Dumbledore had something to do with the fact that no trouble bestowed Saint Potter. I won't mention the second year dueling club incident; the whole school saw that anyway.

Of course, all the staff at this hellhole of a school fancies Potter as one would a god. Their will seems to vanish when the good Saint Potter commands, or even thinks about. Therefore, Potter has taken the third seed in the academic field, beneath Granger and I.

Only one staff member sees Potter for the good-for-nothing he actually is. The ruddy Gryffindors (and Ravenclaws. and Hufflepuffs.) claim he's biased against their respectable houses, because Slytherin is his resident house. That's rubbish; Gryffindor mistakes stupidity for courage, Ravenclaw boasts feigned intelligence (I haven't met a smart Ravenclaw yet), and Hufflepuff is a load of lazy duffers that are even more worthless than Gryffindor. All three of these rubbish houses hate the Slytherins as well, when we triumph over them, as we should.

I'm more intelligent than Potter, athletic, rich, and most certainly better looking, yet this oaf Potter is so acclaimed and famed for things he really did not do. A bit of blind luck occurred when he was a baby (father says his mudblood mother had something to do with it), and the only reason he survived First Year is due to help of his friends, and his blasted mudblood mother's last spell. How tragic that she died for him. You can feel my condolences.

Saint Potter (Okay, I admit this was a bit shocking) opened the Chamber of Secrets to do the Hero-Thing, to save the pathetic Weasley girl, and was saved by some bird Dumbledore had, and that idiotic sorting hat. He's lucky that the waste of a headmaster fancies him. They've all fallen under Potter's trance.

Third year. Well, I just heard someone slipped up, and that Granger somehow stepped in to save the day yet again, letting Potter have all the fame and glory for escaping the escaped convict Sirius Black. Oh, woe. That stupid girl; Potter is lucky he has her for a friend, or he'd be dead and failing school.

Fourth year of education at Hogwarts brought forth the Triwizard Tournament, which glorified Potter, the God even more. He somehow muse have hexed that thing into letting him sneak his name in, and I'll bet my broomstick Dumbledore tampered with it to get Potter as a Champion. Idiot Potter thus showed off against a big slow dragon, misunderstood an underwater task and was rewarded, and was able to drag Cedric Diggory along on a friendly visit to Lord Voldemort's restoration party. The only good things Potter managed to do was help bring forth Voldemort and get Diggory killed.

Now my summer's end impended closer, marking the start of my fifth year at Hogwarts (Sadly, no Durumstrang for me; mother would miss me at such a terrible distance away). Lord Voldemort had returned, and for the first time in my life, I felt as if I were really belonging.

* * * *

I smirked to myself as I watched the pathetic house elf called Annu writhe in pain as she shut her hefty ears in the kitchen door. This was my daily ritual of House Elf Upsetting. It helped me let go the horrors of the night, and unwind for the start of a wonderful day. It was such a wonderful feeling to for once be the one in power.

As usual, father was not around to scold me and critique my schedule and set limits for me. I was glad he was gone; I would not have to look at that dreadful snake staff her carried about with him, as if he were the Minister of Magic himself. But Lucius Malfoy, who held such a high position in the Ministry, governed the doings of his fifteen-year-old son, Draco. No one realized what really went on deep inside the walls of the Malfoy Mansion.

"Draco, darling!" called a soft soprano female voice from nearby, echoing off the mansion walls. "What is the upset, dearest?" the voice asked again. I sighed, pushing thoughts of father from my mind, giving Annu a kick to boot. The voice was getting closer, and soon my mother, a tall, thin, blonde, blue-eyed, and worried woman, was standing in the doorframe, watching me closely as I knocked a china plate from the table onto the floor. It clattered noisily, and I grinned.

"Nothing's the matter, mum," I drawled lazily. "Just the usual morning activities. Nothing to worry about." My mother had a constant fear that something horrendous was going to happen to me one of these days in the comfort of our own home. Me being her only spawn and pride, she constantly followed me around the house, and refused to let me attend an educating facility abroad. It was too far away; something could happen to her little Dragon.

"I was just. worried, Dragon," she said, forcing a smile at me. Dragon was her nickname for me; Draco meant Dragon. I believe it was a Latin name. "This is such a dangerous world, Dragon!" She looked ready to cry, and swooped forward so ungracefully towards me and embraced me so tightly I could barely breathe."

There was a moment of silence, and I waited for the water works to begin. This happened daily; mother's crying spells. It was always a vague experience to me; she never said why she cried so much, just that I was her little Dragon and she didn't want to lose me. Instants later, I could feel tears splashing down in my silvery-blond hair, and tried to pull away from my mother, who had such a tight grip for someone so frail looking.

"Your father has poisoned your mind!" she bawled, releasing me from her noxious embrace. I took a deep breath to compensate for the ones I had missed while locked in her jaws of death. "You used to be such an innocent little boy! I can still recall the Draco that picked on the house elves. What ever happened to that Draco?"

"Trust me." I grinned, causing mother to force another terrible smile and wipe the tears from her watery blue eyes. "He's still here." To verify this, there was a loud clanking, undoubtedly caused by the house elves, in the pantry. "Nothing is going to happen to me, mother." I sighed as lazily as possible, to prove to mother that I was not doing anything dangerous, or exciting. But apparently, mother was not done with her daily lecture. Just a few more weeks of this and I would have been ready to recite it in front on an audience.

"But with Voldemort, thank the heavens, back, that also means the Death Eaters return to power." My mother looked around nervously, as if the walls were spying on her, and drew me in closer, to whisper in my ear, "Your father is gone." She drew away, looking as if a large steel plate had been lifted off her chest. "He can't hurt us now, but others can." She looked around again, as if overcome with paranoia. "The enemies of our family can get us, Dragon."

I sighed deeply, shrugging this off. Under my father's influence, no one dared to toil with our family. Mother must have been dwelling on the past experiences that had taken place before I was born, or when I was but a baby. I thought for a moment my mother would bequeath to me more information, but a thoughtful look crossed her face, then left with a painful expression planting itself on her long, thin face.

"Well, Dragon," She said, gingerly patting me on the shoulder as if I were an old friend of hers. "I have no argument with the beliefs of the Dark Lord and his followers, but Dragon, you're set to join them." She straightened up, and wiped the final tears from her cheeks, to look gravely at me with eyes that were tearless. "But they're dangerous. Dragon, don't join them! You'll get hurt. I don't want any harm to come to you. Let the others take in harm. You're a Malfoy. You don't deserve harm, baby."

She smiled and me, and slowly made her departure from the kitchen, stifling sobs and covering her face in her robes as she left. I rolled my eyes, and kicked the shards of china left from the shattered dish. Finding pleasure in this destruction, I jumped up and down upon them, releasing my anger. The house elves were quivering in their cupboard; I could hear them.

My mother was leaving sanity behind, aside from days when she needed to make public appearances. There she stood tall, Narcissa Malfoy, the fortunate wife of Lucius. Home was a completely different place for all of us. At school I hid my sorrow with anger and vengeance. Father was a control freak, and my mother was starting to feel his wrath.

Are these the Malfoys you so often heard about? You can't fathom the secrets we harbor here. All you see are villains. How typical. Really, I get tired of it. Tired of. everything. Perfect Potter, Superior Lucius.. How can little Dragon ever live up to these people; one close, and the other not. Or is it that way? Are they both far away?