Draco: Flipendo! ... Keep up, old man.
Harry: We're the same age, Draco.
Draco: I wear it better.

HARRY: "Oh, Draco . . . we can’t. We can’t use it."

Draco looks up at Harry, and for the first time — at the bottom of this dreadful pit — they look at each other as friends.

DRACO: "We have to find them — if it takes centuries, we must find our sons —

Most of the time, I think you have to make a choice—at a certain point—of the man you want to be. And I will tell you at that time you need a parent or a friend. And if you've learnt to hate your parent by then and you have no friends...then you're all alone. And being alone—that's so hard."
-Draco Malfoy

Play Quidditch at all?”
“No,” Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.
“I do — Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you’ll be in yet?”
“No,” said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.
“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been — imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?

You foul, lying, evil little cockroach!

Scared?" Malfoy muttered, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him.
"You wish." said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.