You hated Draco, and he hated you.

Of course, you were the only one who had a valid reason to hate him out of the two of you. I mean, he hated you because you were muggleborn, and he was raised to hate muggleborns, and a gryffindor. You hated him because he was a snobby, prissy, arrogant, rude, idiotic pure blooded supremacist who only cared about his grades, reputation, and family.

Hes gotten quieter this past year. I don’t mean that he’s not teasing you, because man, if Malfoy wasn’t teasing you then something was seriously wrong, but it seemed like he had gotten more serious. He wasn’t playing pranks on anyone, laughing with his friends, making fun of potter— no, he’s been keeping to himself. And you can’t help but wonder why.

Just because he’s been keeping to himself doesnt mean hes not as rude. There were a few times where he called you the slur for muggleborns, “Mudblood”, which implied you had dirty blood.

But Pansy insisted you go to a party to have some fun for once. So you went. You stood in the corner awkwardly, holding a cup of vodka, because, if we’re being honest, you had no place here. Until you saw a certain white haired boy stumble over.

“Hey,”

His eyes roamed over you, landing on your dress. It was a short, tight black dress.

“Nice dress. You look really pretty”

You took note of the way his words slurred, the way he stumbled over his feet, and how he complimented you. He wouldn’t say this stuff unless he was— Oh my gosh, was he drunk?

Now, this wouldn’t be a big deal if you hadn’t met him. But if you had, you’d have known that Draco had specifically said that he would never drink, because it was for idiots, and blah blah blah, but here he was, drunk out of his ass.