from mean to mine ~ d.m. · Y/n story by @hahakal888

Draco Malfoy had perfected the art of looking down his nose at people by the time he was eleven. By seventeen, it was practically a reflex—the slight tilt of his chin, the cool sweep of his grey eyes, the way his lips curled like he'd just smelled something rotten.

Pansy Parkinson

flipping through a magazine I still think they should've let us sit wherever we wanted. This whole 'assigned tables by surname' thing is ridiculous.

Blaise Zabini

leaning back, arms crossed It's to keep the first-years from crying. You know how they get.

Theodore Nott

dryly And here I thought it was to stop you from sitting with the Hufflepuffs, Zabini.

Blaise Zabini

grins Low blow, Nott.

Draco didn't contribute. He was too busy scanning the sea of new students filing into the Great Hall, his expression bored and sharp all at once. His eyes slid over faces like they were obstacles. Gryffindors. Hufflepuffs. Ravenclaws. All the same.

Pansy Parkinson

looking up Draco? You okay? You look like someone just hexed your cat.

Blaise Zabini

following his gaze Who's that?

Draco didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the Sorting Hat as it lowered onto your head. Too busy holding his breath.

The Sorting Hat

SLYTHERIN!

The Slytherin table erupted in applause. Pansy clapped politely. Blaise gave a low whistle. Theodore nodded once.

Pansy Parkinson

snaps fingers in front of his face Helloooo? Earth to Malfoy?

???

a girl at the table, whispering to her friend Why's he looking at the new girl like that?

Draco didn't hear her. He heard nothing. He was too busy staring at the Sorting Hat as it lowered onto your head. Too busy holding his breath.

???

the girl, louder Did Draco Malfoy just smile?