Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, were proud to say that they were pure-bloods. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything normal and non-magical, because they just didn't hold with such nonsense.

Lucius Malfoy came from a long line of wizards who all believed in pure-blood supremacy. Mr. Malfoy was the chairman of the school governors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and owner of the Malfoy Apothecary. He was tall, had a pale, pointed face, pale blond hair and cold grey eyes.

Narcissa Malfoy also came from a pure-blood family, the Noble House of Black. Mrs. Malfoy was tall as well, slim, also very pale, with blue eyes, long blonde hair, and a clear, cold voice. She was rather beautiful, although sometimes, especially whenever she was in the company of those she considered her inferiors, she donned an expression that suggested that she was sniffing dung.

And there was their son, Draco Malfoy. Draco was a slender boy with sleek white-blond hair, cold grey eyes, a pale complexion and rather sharp, pointed features. As his father was a Death Eater, he was raised to strongly believe in the importance of blood purity. But from time to time, he doubted that what his parents said was right. These doubts first arose when he went to Hogwarts. Before that, he had little to no contact with Muggles or Muggle-borns.

•~•~•

The first time was in his first year at school. He'd been walking through the corridor, Crabbe and Goyle walking behind him, when he heard those three voices he'd come to dislike.

"You're serious?", Hermione asked incredulously, yet not without a hint of humour in her voice, as Harry began to laugh.

"I know, right? And that wasn't all, the next day he came down to breakfast with-" But Ron was interrupted by Harry and Hermione both bursting out laughing. Draco had obviously missed part of the conversation, but he still found their reaction slightly exaggerated. I mean, who even reacted that way to someone just telling a story? He motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to stop walking and halted just around the corner to listen to the rest of the conversation.

"And Fred too!", Ron said and Harry could barely breath properly with him laughing so much.

"You're kidding! Fred too?", Hermione asked between laughs.

"Of course him as well. Fred and George are a package deal. If you get one, the other's not far behind", he said and laughed too.

"Mate, your family stories are much more entertaining than Hermione's. No offence, though", Harry said, still slightly out of breath.

"No, I totally agree", Hermione said and the three of them kept on laughing. Draco motioned for Crabbe and Goyle to turn around and walk back the way they came. They gave him weird looks, but he ignored them. Seeing his "archenemies" having fun, just hanging out between classes and generally being happy made him jealous. He'd never had any friends like that. Crabbe and Goyle were his followers, his "henchmen", not his friends. They were like sheep and he was their shepherd. The friendship those three Gryffindors shared was a friendship he'd always wanted to have with someone. Yet for some reason, they found their friends, but he did not.

But weren't Mudbloods supposed to be inferior? Dumber and worth less than he was? So why did Weasley even spend time with Granger? He came from a pureblood family, why did they all become blood traitors? And Granger didn't seem all that dumb and dependent on a wizard's or witch's rule over her. She seemed... normal? Well, as normal as an annoying know-it-all could get, but she could definitely hold her own.

That had been the first time he'd questioned his parents' beliefs and the first time he'd ever been truly jealous. Draco had always had everything money could buy. However, true friendship wasn't a part of those things.

•~•~•

The second time he started to doubt whether Muggle-borns were worth less was in his third year. Granger had punched him in the face that day and the entire evening he hadn't been able to stop thinking about said Muggle-born. She was smart, beautiful, strong, funny, loyal and... well... pretty much perfect. It took quite some time for him to admit that he may or may not have a crush on her. He certainly wouldn't tell any living soul about that but admitting that to himself had been enough of an accomplishment. He wouldn't change his attitude towards Granger, Potty and the Weasel – not in a million years – but that didn't change the fact that he, on the inside, liked Hermione, envied Harry and found Ron funny from time to time. Luckily he'd learned to hide his emotions pretty well, with his father being like he was. He never cared much about Draco, only about what he could achieve for him, and he did not like being disobeyed. So for now, Draco would just have to keep up the act of hating the three and make sure that no one found out that he was jealous and in love.

But speaking of his father, Draco had been very relieved when their DADA class had finished early. He'd been dreading the moment he'd have to step forward and let the entire class, including those three, see his biggest fear: disappointing his father. Now that he thought about it, he only acted the way he did because he tried to copy his father's behaviour as well as possible. Not that he'd change the way he was, but it made him think. Were non-purebloods really that bad?

•~•~•

Over the next three years, Draco began to like Harry, Ron and Hermione more and more, his crush was always present, but he got sucked into the Dark Arts much too fast. He'd gotten the Dark Mark and the mission to kill Dumbledore. He'd cursed that poor girl, almost killed Weasley and all the while the incredible guilt of letting Death Eaters into the school was gnawing at him, consuming him from the inside. And in the end, when Snape had killed Dumbledore and Hogwarts was overrun by Death Eaters, he didn't feel proud or happy like he should have. He felt horrible. His entire time at Hogwarts he'd bullied other students, he'd made those he considered to be lesser than him feel like they really were and he'd been an attention seeking sissy who couldn't stand losing. And now, now he'd endangered the lives of all of his fellow students, the teachers and even more people outside of Hogwarts. But he couldn't apologise. They'd never believe him. They'd brand him as a coward, someone who couldn't accept that he'd messed up and now sought shelter with them. So Draco had no choice but to continue like he always had: play the arrogant prick, stand in the way of the 'good' ones and hope that someone – anyone – would notice that he didn't like to play that role.

But no one ever did.

And no one ever would.