Stupid Potter. Some things never changed, it seems. Draco watched as the young wizard before him caused fireworks to explode, rolling his eyes at the child like magic he was performing. "Not everything I did was because of Voldemort," Draco snapped, hissing the name, as if to prove a point that he could, in fact, say the name. "I had fun, when I could afford it. You don't know shite about what it meant to be a Slytherin during my time."
He paused then. "If you become friends with my son, I'll give you this: things must have gotten better. For a Potter and a Malfoy to be allowed to be on speaking terms, that says a lot." He sighed, pushing off the wall and smirking. "Do you want to see what real wandless magic can do?"