Look at this first.
*
Draco tired of things quickly.
He rarely finished his food, could never concentrate on one homework assignment for more than half an hour, never kept a girlfriend for more than a few weeks, and constantly changed his mind about his future goals. The last one was less of a problem, since it had all been more or less decided for him. Grow up, leave Hogwarts, be a Death Eater, get married, carry on the Malfoy bloodline, and spend the rest of his life being rich and disdainful towards anyone who wasn't a Pureblood aristocrat.
Not that Draco had a problem with that. At least his parents didn't expect him to go out and get a job. He'd probably end up with a vanity position at the Ministry, anyway, based solely on his father's influence. That was great, but still.
Draco, at the age of fifteen, was not only bored with his current life situation, but with his entire future.
This was worse than the occasional fit of teenage ennui. He thought he'd go mad if he didn't find some sort of challenge to keep him busy. Something different. Something difficult. Something worth the effort.
With his fingernail, Draco carved a lightning bolt into the skin of the apple.