𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞 | 𝐇.𝐏.

𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝟏 - 𝟓

But I knew that Draco had been watching the Gryffindor team practice since their first one. He knew how good Potter was, even on a school broom.

"I think I'll manage," Potter sniffed, and then trailed his gaze down to Draco's hand on my shoulder. His lips thinned, and I suddenly felt self conscious for being a Malfoy. I despised myself for the fact.

"Draco. Stop please," I whispered, so quiet that I wasn't sure he even heard me. Until his fingers tightened. 

"I truly hope Slytherin wins. Imagine how embarrassing it would be if our Seeker looses to a first year," he continued.

"Draco," I said warningly, slightly louder. I was staring straight ahead, into a blank space somewhere over Hermione's head. This time, he dug his nails into my skin. I bit back a gasp.

"I'm sorry to see the people my sister has become friends with. It seems she's forgotten her pureblood status." 

I swallowed and closed my eyes in disgust. Why was he doing this?

"I might just have to contact father," Draco said, bending down and whispering in my ear. My stomach clenched. I felt my chin wobble, and almost burst out crying right there. I had forgotten that half the school was surrounding us, and inwardly cursed myself. 

"No," I forced out, voice shaking stupendously.

"Imagine the disappointment on their faces," he whispered again. I had a strange impulse to slap him across the face.

I stood up suddenly, twisting to rip my shoulder out of his grasp. Then I walked away, posture still ruler straight, silent tears running down my cheeks. I didn't comprehend the way the entire hall was deathly silent until I reached the corridor.

I selfishly hoped to hear someone chase after me, like Hermione. But, of course, nobody did. I wasn't important enough. Sure I helped write the introductions to their essays, but that was all I was good for.

Not good enough for Slytherin.

Not good enough for my brother. 

Not good enough for the Malfoy family.

A sob escaped me. I put my hand over my mouth and began to run. I ran out the castle, through the courtyard, past Hagrid's hut, and into the Forbidden Forest. I stopped when I saw the trees begin to get thicker, and the light begin to come less.

I leaned against an especially gnarled tree, and slowly sank to the ground. My body shook with loud, racking sobs, imagining all the things that could happen if Draco actually decided to contact father.

Oh, I would get in so much trouble. 

Befriending a Mudblood and a blood traitor? And even worse, befriending Harry Potter? The boy who vanquished our savior, the Dark Lord? 

How betraying to my dear father. And mother. Mother would keep me in my room all day and give me back to my etiquette teacher and make me wear puffy little dresses with itchy capped sleeves every day if Draco blabbed to them.

I don't know how long I sat there, drowning in my own thoughts, before my breath started to become more even, and the hot tears started to run slower down my face.

I pushed myself up onto shaking legs, and reluctantly made my way back to the castle. I figured the Quidditch match had started by now, and I was proven correct when I heard shouting and cheering as I emerged from the forest. 

Good. That meant I wouldn't walk back to a school full of children who had just watched my brother treat me like I was a disgrace to our name. Like I was a mistake. Like I was nothing.