Pride

Platform 9 3/4 was packed with people, as can be expected when the Hogwarts Express was within five minutes of leaving King's Cross for yet another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Older students said hasty farewells to their families, anxious to catch up with their friends while first-years tearfully clung to their parents. Amazement was clearly visible on the muggle-borns' faces. The general atmosphere of the platform was busy, hurried, rushed. Screeching owls, howling cats, and the occasional croaking of a frog named Trevor only added to the chaos. But he didn't take notice of any of this from his seat in an empty compartment of the Express. He'd seen it four times before, it wasn't anything special. He gazed out of his window at a family saying goodbye. The mother, a skinny, happy-looking witch kissed her son on the forehead and held him for a long time in a big hug. The boy's father gave him a hug and a pat on the back too. Inside the train, the boy watching clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip until he tasted blood. Envy is a wasted emotion, he told himself, but it didn't help. So was self-pity, but that didn't stop him either. He'd give anything to go home. He hated that school.

"Not one year, not one single good year at that school..." he muttered to himself.

Just then a girl with bushy brown hair walked past his window and he quickly looked away. She was an embarrassment. Simply put, a year without her would be a good year for him. She beat him on everything, every exam, and was a mudblood! His father was furious. And that was definitely not the most pleasant of situations to be in.

Yet there was something about her, a certain bounce in her walk that forced him to look at her again, let his eyes watch her until she was out of sight.

When she was gone, he continued to stare at the spot where she'd left, thinking about her, about Weasley, about Potter...Potter! He let out a frustrated yell and angrily kicked the side of his compartment, startling a few sixth-year Ravenclaws standing outside on the platform. One of them, a fat, blonde boy, glared at him. He sneered and sat back down. He couldn't count the number of glares like that he'd gotten over the years. They had long since lost their effect on him. If he let the hatred get to him he'd simply be a shell of a person...maybe he was.

The shrill whistle of the Hogwarts Express pierced his thoughts. As they started to move, he watched all the parents on the platform jumping, waving to their children, and running alongside the train. His parents weren't among them. He quickly swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat and looked away, disgusted with himself.

They're never here.

As he watched the endless countryside roll past his window his thoughts wandered back to Potter. How he strutted around the school like he owned it, how he was always given privileges because he was famous, how everyone always looked up to the great Harry Potter...A sharp pain interrupted his thoughts. He hadn't realized he'd made his hands into fists until his own nails digging into his flesh alerted him. He gazed at the marks in his palms and laughed.

"See what you do to me Potter?" he sneered. He'd never been as embarrassed as he had been that very first day of his very first year when Potter flat-out refused his offer for friendship, all to protect that good-for-nothing Weasley's feelings. He laughed aloud again. That family had seven too many kids than they could afford! Didn't they have any pride at all?

He winced openly at that word, "pride". How many times had his father asked him, "Aren't you proud of your family name, of the privilege that it comes with?"

"Of course I am!" he breathed. "But it's not that simple." Lately he had begun to wonder what he had to be proud of. Money, yes, lots of money and pure blood - that was becoming more and more rare. But they also had the hatred of the wizarding community and an allegiance with an evil man. It was dangerous. Why couldn't anyone see it but him? He had been having nightmares where his family was tortured at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He was scared.

Overwhelmed, he buried his face in his hands.

"Uh...you okay?" came a gruff voice from the doorway of the compartment.

He peeked through his fingers to see Crabbe and Goyle staring at him. He wondered where they'd been, probably harassing Hufflepuffs.

"Fine, I'm fine!" he said quickly, staring out the window. Avoiding their eyes, he stood up. "Good, because we're almost there." said Goyle, as emotionless as ever.

In the distance he could see the rooftops of the village of Hogsmeade, and ever further, the towering heights of Hogwarts outlined against the sky by the full moon. He smiled in spite of himself and could feel his own pride creeping up on him, covering him like a cloak. All doubts and emotions pushed to the very back of his mind, he turned and strode from the compartment, robes billowing. Crabbe and Goyle hurried to follow. He was proud; it seeped from every aspect of his being. It followed him wherever he went, and everyone he was near felt it. It leered at him from the high turrets of Hogwarts castle. It shaped him into the person everyone thought he was. He was, of course, Draco Malfoy and pride, for him, was a shield, a defense, and necessary to survive.