The Difference

What is hate? The blind man asked himself one night, the night was young and he had a long time to think about this

Hate was when you hated someone with such a blind fury that just the fact that they were breathing and disorientated you with everything they did. Wait, you're getting off track, Draco Malfoy reminded himself and then resumed staring up at the sky, ignoring the warmth lying down beside him.

It had been a very interesting few years since he'd arrived at Hogwarts and meet Harry Potter, a very interesting few years indeed; glancing down he saw the slightly blue hue to his fingers with were bracing his knees to his chest.

The stars were so bright tonight he mused to himself as the night's light shone its radiance down on his frame highlighting his pale skin and hair. The clothing did nothing for him, as the chill still seeped through the material and skin heading right for his bones, besides the clothing hadn't actually been on for that long.

How his life had changed when he'd first seen him. It some way he'd known, known that they'd be rivals, he was the source of most of his angst and his bitterness towards his school years so far, most of his angst and bitterness. Bear in mind that he didn't exactly have a wonderful family life, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, lovingly devoted parents. Yeah, and he was best friends with Potter

He had such a cheery life.

Part of his resentfulness was because his life was empty; did he have anyone who would jump in the way of danger for him if there was an Unforgivable Curse directed straight for him. No, most would push him into their line of defense or leap away. Potter had that, Granger and Weasley, or Mudblood and Weasel as he used to call them, he tired of insults now and passed them by just ignoring them and their poisonous glares.

He'd been ignoring it for a couple of weeks now and even giggly Hufflepuff third years were coming up to him and asking if he had a fever, it was a bit much really. So now he was going to reinstate himself as the biggest bastard they'd ever seen, too bad they'd already met his dad. But how

One of his dithering slow housemates had been raving on about some muggle show the other day, something The Vampire Slayer, Muffy, Tuffy... Buffy, right. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. And had force-fed the entire common room one of the episodes from little pieces of paper;

Wise words from a smart but fake, vampire. Overrated but wise. He'd have to put thing into practice if he could be bothered to move from this freezing cold astronomy tower and that also depended on his ability to move without waking the nameless female figure who was asleep on her side, he thought she was from Ravenclaw.

She had dark hair and possibly green eyes, if that wasn't telling him something he was rather dense. Or numb from the ever increasing cold, cold which had nothing to do with the weather or sharp sting of the dewy night, more of the coldness that had started to overtake his sorry excuse for a soul in his fourth year at Hogwarts. He moved quickly and silently and was gone before she woke up to empty surroundings and to greet Mrs Norris.

Back in the Slytherin Common Room he dragged himself up the stairs after staring into the still crackling flames of the fire, he heard little feet pattering along, no doubt the house-elves putting more wood on the fire and he entered the dormitory. He couldn't bring enough warmth into his limbs to be bothered getting changed and climbed under the covers turning on his side and curling into a fetal position as cold nightmares slowly invaded his head, laughing viciously as they toyed.