**i dont own any of the Harry Potter characters**
**i do own Amber and any other characters you may not recognize**
Malfoy was an evil name.
Draco knew this.
He wanted out.
I had been chosen as Head Boy. I had to share a dormitory with the Head Girl; a Gryffindor girl by the name of Amber Mitchell.
I sat in our common room, thinking about her, about how I was always so mean to her, about how I tormented her friends, about how I had no choice.
Anger rose up in me. I tried to suppress it. Anger was a weakness. Any emotion was a weakness.
It was hard for me to love, as I didn’t have much when I was younger. Maybe that was a small lie. My mother loved me. My father didn’t, but my mother did. When my father so much as scared me when he yelled at me, I would go to my mother and she would comfort me.
By that I was taught to love in a small way. But I never put it to the test. I was scared. I thought I was in love with Pansy, but I eleven and really stupid. Besides, that was before I met Amber.
Of course, I hid my emotions from her, from everyone. I spent much of my time in my dormitory, hidden from the rest of the Slytherins and somewhere where she wouldn’t ever be allowed to appear. No matter how hard she tried, she wouldn’t be able to get to me.
Until I was chosen as Head Boy and Amber was chosen for Head Girl. Now I had to see her every day. When I woke up, she was in the same room. When I wanted to relax, she was in the same room. When I wanted to eat breakfast, lunch, or dinner, she was in the same room. I couldn’t escape her.
But Father would never allow me to fall in love with this girl. Especially since she was a Gryffindor, and, not to mention, a blood traitor. She was just as fascinated by Muggle objects as that fool Arthur Weasley.
Weasley. A Weasley was there the night I met the famous Harry Potter. Potter had been my last hope of redemption. If he hadn’t brushed me off like that…
Maybe if I had been a bit more pleasant…
That moment, a very pretty girl with golden, almost white, blond hair and stunningly blue eyes bounded into the common room, holding some strange object and looking excited.
She walked over to me. I quickly put the familiar arrogant mask on to hide my feelings.
“I wanted to show you this, but I couldn’t get it to work,” she said with a grin.
“Well, if it doesn’t work, what use is it?” I said casually.
She gave me a slightly sarcastic look and said, “I just got it to work, you dolt. Otherwise I wouldn’t be showing you!”
Amber plopped down on the couch and opened the slim casing. Inside was a flat screen on the top part and a panel full of keys on the bottom.
“What is it?” I asked, voicing my thoughts for once.
I rarely ever do that.
“This is called a computer,” Amber said. “Well, the more useful term would be a laptop, since it’s portable.”
I still didn’t quite understand.
“What does it do?”
Amber must have flipped a switch or pushed a button or something because all of the sudden the once black screen was full of light. There were cloud-like objects sitting behind this thing that read:
WINDOWS IS STARTING
Then the screen flashed again and became slightly darker. Small icons popped up around a picture of Hogwarts.
“That still doesn’t clarify what it does,” I said faintly.
Amber gave me a look that clearly said “have patients.” So I did. I waited patiently for this—what did she call it—oh yes—computer to finish setting up.
When it did, Amber set her slender finger on a square box in the middle of the palette of keys and moved it.
“Watch the screen,” she said to me quietly.
I looked up at the Hogwarts picture to see a small object moving around.
“Is that supposed to happen?” I asked, confused.
Amber smiled and nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s called the pointer…I think. On a standard computer it is moved around by a thing called a mouse, but we won’t get into that now.”
A mouse? Isn’t a mouse a little animal that has a long naked tail, big ears, and eats cheese?
“If you want to open a file, you touch this button two times really quickly,” Amber went on.
“What’s a file?” I asked.
“One of these icons,” Amber answered, using her pointer to indicate what she was talking about.
“Rubbish,” I mumbled, getting up.
“If you’d just give Muggles a chance, Malfoy—”
Amber had set the Muggle object on the couch next to her and stood up after me.
“Give Muggles a chance?” I repeated. “Ridiculous.”
“No,” said Amber angrily, “what you were taught is ridiculous. That is what is rubbish.”
She picked up her computer and walked up to the dormitory, slamming the door after her.
Not only had I successfully angered her, I had insulted what she was brought up by, her moral beliefs. Not that she hadn’t insulted mine, but I was used to things like that. Amber was more sensitive then I was. I guess you could say she had a heart.