his weakness | draco malfoy |

01

DRACO MALFOY HAD ALWAYS been bad with controlling his temper. In fact, he was known as a ticking time bomb by his family. Being stuck in an enormous and dark mansion for the majority of his childhood certainly did not serve him as a favor either.

Naturally, the fact that he was around a huge crowd of people pushing past him to board the Hogwarts express, disrupted the calmness he was used to back at home. He was supposed to feel excited for his first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but instead he felt nothing but anger. He loathed being around so many people bumping into him – he thought it was disrespectful and rude of them to do that. It was almost as if  they did not know that he was a Malfoy, one of the most powerful pureblood families in the wizarding world. He held himself at a higher ground and thought they should have been praising him instead.  

He grumbled under his breath.

Then, out of nowhere, a figure crashed into him and fell to the ground. Draco was lucky enough to have caught his balance, otherwise he would have been on the ground as well. He groaned and looked down at the person in annoyance. 

"Watch where you're going – " 

He did not dare finish the sentence as his silvery eyes locked with a pair of unfamiliar hazel ones. For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was speechless.

Thick,  light brown locks covered the pale face of a young girl. Her cheeks were gleaming with the color red, making her beautiful hazel eyes very easy to notice. What caught his attention even more were the little freckles scattered on her cheeks. They weren't many, but he definitely noticed them.

The girl started apologizing to him. 

"I – I'm so sorry," her voice was very soft and trembling. Malfoy just stood there and looked at her, his own hands practically itching to help her. Bless his heart, he almost did. "I lost my cat in this crown and, you see, I can't seem to find her."

Draco took one great look at her clothes and the fact that she looked way too nervous to be there, and realization came flooding down upon him that she was, in fact, a muggleborn. Or, as his father liked to call them – mudbloods.

All his life he was taught not to spare a glance at that sort, and certainly not to stoop so low as to be seen with them. Being a father's son, he said the next best thing that came to his mind. 

"I'd lend you a hand, but," he said, forcing on his famous Malfoy smirk, "I would hardly want to make my hands dirty from a mudblood like you." 

With that, he trailed off towards the train and left the flustered girl on the verge of tears. 

Even though he immediately regretted his choice of words, he knew it was the right thing to do. He was a pureblood, and purebloods did not associate with muggleborns. He felt shame for finding that girl beautiful. He could not stop thinking about her during the entire train ride. The guilt rose even higher when he suddenly found himself worried if she had managed to find her cat.

Oh, how his father would not hear about that.