Nothing could have ever prepared Draco for the years that he would experience facing when he arrived at Hogwarts. He'd been taught all his life that he was the best of the best and there was no one that could change that. Only, there were, apparently and it was rather frustrating.

Specifically the 'Golden Trio', consisting of Harry, Hermione and Ronald. The three Gryffindors that somehow seemed to believe they could ever be better than him. A Malfoy. It was a scoffable idea and Draco regularly made sure they understood that.

Still, Draco had felt something...twist inside his stomach everytime his eyes focused on a particular Mudblood. It was stupid, really, and Draco had been forcing himself to ignore it. After all, he refused to be the shame to the Malfoy name.

Currently it was the Fourth year of Hogwarts and the Triwizard Tournament had begun. The schools of both Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang had arrived in early December and their presence was more obvious with each day that passed.

Draco found himself smirking each time a new name was put into the glowing cup, people of 17 years old waiting to be picked for a life or death challenge. They were such idiots....until the unimaginable happened. Harry, had somehow gotten his name into the cup.

It irritated Draco to no extent. How did the Gryffindor keep getting more fame and playing it off like he had no idea? Draco had to seriously hold back from punching the idiots face quite a few times.

What was worse, was the fact that Hermione had been gaining the attention of Viktor Krum. Draco hated that he'd noticed and especially hated that he couldn't stop. His mind ran wild until he forced it back into the safety of not caring.

Currently, Draco had decided to take a walk outside in the cold Scottish air, letting it wash over him. The cold had never bothered him much and the castle was decidedly too stuffy for his liking.

Then, just because the universe hated him, he saw a particular head of messy brown curls. Sat under a tree was Hermione, surrounded by an army of books. Draco felt a smirk form on his face as her hazel eyes locked onto his grey ones.

Then, before he could second guess himself, Draco began walking over. He shoved his hands far into his trouser pockets until he was looming over the Gryffindor, casting a shadow over her and her books. "Tired of the fame already, Granger?" Draco drawled teasingly, "Potter and Weaslebee certainly aren't." He hated the way his heart skipped a beat or two from being close to her. He refused to be weak for a Mudblood.