Draco Malfoy's anger rose up in him like a fire. How dare Harry Potter reject him like that, and so openly, too? It was positively embarrassing. Just because he was the famous Harry Potter didn't mean he could treat others like dirt. And all he'd done really was state the obvious. If he wanted to succeed in the wizarding world, he ought to align himself with powerful wizards. Like himself. Well, he wasn't powerful yet, but he would be. Ron Weasley looked like a classic Hufflepuff if Draco ever saw one.

But they were interrupted by McGonagall, and led into the Sorting. Draco felt a peculiar case of nerves wash over him, but beat them down. Every member of his family ever had been in Slytherin. There wasn't any suspense over where he'd be, but still the nerves persisted under the surface, as present as his own heartbeat. He just didn't like everyone in the whole school staring at him, he reasoned, but he was unable to calm himself down. His name was called and he made his way to the hat, trying not to look quite so timid as he felt, feeling his heartbeat in his throat.

He expected it to be only a second before declaring Slytherin, but sat still for a few moments while the hat thought. Certainly would make a good Slytherin, the hat said, and Draco prepared to jump up and run to the table. He didn't like the hat peering into his mind, didn't appreciate the lack of control here. But that would be too easy, and in Slytherin lies what has always been. You have bravery, and heart. You're loyal. Draco felt panic rise in his throat, but before he could do anything to stop it the hat yelled, "Gryffindor!" He sat, stunned for a moment. He glanced at the crowd of Slytherins, where he had expected to go, and found that those who didn't know him didn't care. Those who did know who he was looked a little shocked. Almost no one in Gryffindor knew who he was yet, so they cheered him on as they would any new first year, but Draco remained frozen to the chair.

"Go on," McGonagall said, nudging him gently from the seat. She clearly understood who his family was, and was also surprised at his placement. But she had a job to do, and she ushered him off to his new house. He sat amongst the other Gryffindors stiffly, watched as others got called to go to Slytherin, watched as Potter and Weasley moved to join him at the Gryffindor table. He barely even cared now, though he did realize with some annoyance that this meant they would be dorm mates.

Caught myself on the wrong foot there, Draco thought bitterly. Now he was going into the lion's den, surrounded by people he would have never called friends ordinarily. House lines were rarely crossed, and he could already feel his friends a few tables away slipping away from him. Then he imagined what his father would say, and shuddered. He had essentially, unintentionally, gone against his whole family. He heartened a little, thinking that maybe his father could sort something out, but he still played with his food more than he ate it. He ignored everyone at the table, and they ignored him in return. He noticed that Potter snuck him a glance now and then, but he didn't even bother sneering. He just waited out the feast and went with the others to the common room, barely taking it in as he made his way up the stairs to the dorm and fell into bed. He pulled the curtains, and wished very much that he could talk to his mother. When he finally fell asleep his chest was still heavy with worry, and he dreamed in restless fits about lions and snakes.

As suspected, he received a letter from his father two days later. He had written first thing in the morning, urging him to do something. The reply was short and curt. In no uncertain terms he advised that the sorting hat's decision was final, and he was in Gryffindor until he graduated. Knowing his father, Draco inferred that he had fought Dumbledore on the matter and had lost, otherwise he'd be packing his trunk and moving to the Slytherin common room right that moment. So at breakfast, with new resolve, Draco sat next to Harry Potter. If you can't beat em, join em, he told himself. He piled bacon and eggs and toast onto his plate and tried to pretend he wasn't absolutely miserable. He turned to ask Harry to please pass the marmalade when Ron Weasley strolled up and gave him a nasty look.

"What are you looking at?" Ron had sneered, and Draco quickly looked away. He at his toast dry, and had never felt less confident in his life. He quickly forced down what he could, and left the rest on his plate, cheeks hot.

Everyone hated him. He knew he had started off with a deficit since Ron Weasley was Harry Potter's friend, and Harry Potter and in particular Ron Weasley didn't like him. His whole house was lauded as being this amazingly loyal place, but every time he seemed to open his mouth, or look the wrong way, he was in trouble again. He tried to keep his head up high, like his mother suggested when she wrote him, but he found it harder each day. His only refuge was learning his school work as best he could, throwing himself into his studies. And even there he was bested by Granger at every turn.

It was Halloween when things finally changed for Draco. Hermione had been in the bathroom crying, and hadn't heard about the troll. In the fray, Draco heard Harry try to convince Ron to go after her - but Ron refused. Harry squared his shoulders and went down the hall, away from the crowd. Draco followed him.

"Hey - wait up!"

Harry spared a glance behind him, but kept moving determinedly. "What?" he called behind him, not slowing.

Draco fell into step beside him, huffing a little from the hurry to catch up. "I saw - Ron wasn't coming - thought you might need backup in case -" Then he saw the troll. They chained the door quietly, starting to back away...

And a scream broke through the air, startling them both. Draco ignored the stitch in his side as adrenaline carried him on to find Hermione crouched under a sink. Potter was beside him, frozen with fear just like him. They moved at the same time, wrenching the door open then reaching for rubble and debris and bits of pipe and ceramic to throw at the troll, to hopefully distract it. When Harry physically jumped onto the troll, lodging his wand up its nose, Draco was agape before he heard Hermione yell at him to swish and flick.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he cried, guiding the trolls club to its own head, hoping it wouldn't crush Potter on the way down. That's all he needed, was to kill the boy who bloody lived. But he stood up, running to help Hermione, and the three turned to find themselves face to face with their professors.

It was only that night, alone in his bed with the curtains drawn, that Draco let himself replay the events of the evening. And he thought to himself that he'd wished he'd been brave enough to jump on the troll himself. Harry hadn't even questioned it, had just acted. A stupid thing to do, he decided. A stupid, noble, brave thing to do. He thought about it all night. Harry was willing to do that for someone he barely knew, hadn't even really liked as far as Draco could tell. It was so rash, so — magnificent. The word came to him suddenly, and he knew he couldn't find a truer word.

The next day, Ron wasn't mean to him at breakfast. He sat next to Hermione, across from Ron and Harry, interjecting occasionally as the three filled the redhead in on what he'd missed. It was clear to Draco that Ron was jealous he'd stayed behind and hadn't taken action like Harry had insisted. But it also looked rather clear that Hermione was attached to their friend group now, and was filled with nothing but glowing pride for Draco himself. A losing battle to fight for Ron, who had opted not to go find her and everyone knew it, so he shrugged his shoulders at it all and accepted it with relative ease. Then Harry started telling Ron about seeing Snape, which Draco didn't realize was a big deal at all, so then the three had to explain that from the beginning to him - starting with a duel Blaise had orchestrated to get the guys caught wandering out of bed. It was a long and confusing morning of explanations all around, and in the end Draco was glad to finally be able to talk Quidditch with the guys and moon over Harry's broomstick.

He knew he was supposed to be lamenting the fact that he was not in Slytherin house, but having real friends in Gryffindor was a giant weight off of Draco's chest. He found Hermione wasn't as bad as his father might have him believe, despite her blood status. They did their homework together, and it was easier to divide and conquer with Ron and Harry to get them to participate with the two of them. And he rather enjoyed playing chess with Ron, even though the redhead beat him most games. But it was to his great surprise Harry Potter who was becoming his closest friend, especially once it came time for Christmas break.

He had opted not to go home for break, because he wasn't sure he could face his parents still. Ron stayed as his parents were out of the country, and Harry did too because he simply had no place to go. And although they hung out with Ron most of the break, the two bonded over their loneliness in reserved ways.

Harry was a quiet person, and Draco found that he had that in common with him. They read books together in the common room until Ron complained loud enough and they played exploding snap instead. They explored the castle, which seemed too huge to cover in seven years, though they steadfastly avoided the three headed dogs area. They wondered about Nicholas Flamel, and made odd guesses at what could he kept underneath the trap door.

When Christmas came, Draco was greeted with a tense but polite happy Christmas note from his parents, and a few presents that were clearly expensive but had no meaning. Same as usual. Better than Harry's relatives, who had sent him 50p he supposed - Draco had been a bit impressed until Harry had explained how little that could buy. He tried to hide his jealousies at Harry's and Ron's sweaters and homemade candy from the Weasley's, but he thought Harry might have noticed because he shared his fudge with him. It was delicious, of course, better than he'd even thought it would be. He tossed Ron a present from his trunk, a pair of orange socks with his favourite Quidditch team on them, and handed Harry a gift too. It was small, and light, and Harry looked surprise to get it, as he had with all of his gifts. He opened it slowly and carefully, and found a ring on a chain.

"What's this?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, are you two getting married now?" Ron asked through a mouth full of fudge.

Draco threw a Chudley Cannons scarf that he'd also ordered for Ron at his head. "Look at it, you tosser," Draco instructed Harry, who peered at the ring more intently. It was gold and had an ornate crest on it, and though it was old the letters were still legible - the product of careful polishing once he'd had the ring in hand. Potter. "It's, um, your family crest," Draco explained, suddenly uncomfortable with the fact that he knew a lot more about Harry's family than Harry did, by virtue of being pure blood and being mired in the tradition and history in a way that Ron hadn't been. "I saw it in an antique shop over the summer in Diagon Alley, and I mail ordered it for you. I thought you'd like to have something from your family." He faltered and stopped talking, watching Harry slip the chain over his head. The chain was necessary since Harry was still quite a small eleven year old, but he would be able to wear it when he was older if he wished.

He was nervous about it now, feeling a bit foolish for giving such a serious and thoughtful gift, so he bustled around and made a show of not looking at Harry and finding his clothes for the day instead. He was rooting through his trunk for his socks when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and into Harry's emerald eyes.

"Thank you," he said a little hoarsely, as though his throat was suddenly swollen. He hugged Draco then, and he could feel his own shoulders relax at the approval his gift had gotten.

"Oh, I get it, you are getting married. Can we finish opening our presents now?"

The invisibility cloak was the gift of the day, however, and the boys took delight in trying it out one by one before getting dressed and hanging out with the twins. They ate a Christmas meal for a king, and Draco noticed Harry occasionally touching a hand to his chest in a brief way to make contact with the ring under his jumper. He went to bed that night feeling accomplished, and glad the ding to his Gringotts account had been worth it.

He was woken in the middle of the night by Harry, who then moved on to get Ron. He forcibly dragged them under the cloak to the Mirror of Erised, and made them watch. He was sure they'd all see his parents, though Ron just saw an older, successful Ron.

"Go on, Draco, you try it," Harry said desperately. He stepped up in front of the mirror, and bit his lip.

"Ah -"

"Do you see them? My parents?"

"No," Draco said, though he wished he could have lied and said yes at Harry's dejected look.

"Well, what do you see then?"

"Um. I'd rather not..." His cheeks felt hot looking into the mirror.

"Go on," Ron said cheerfully, bolstered by being a fake Head Boy. "Tell us what it is?"

"Well, I'm Head Boy too," he lied apologetically to Ron, who had thought he might be glimpsing the future. "Sorry. Guess this mirror just shows us what we want."

The truth of that was real, and he carried the confusion of it with him back to bed. He returned a few nights later, though he kept half an ear out for Harry, whom he'd seen come back every night. He didn't have an invisibility cloak himself, but it was worth a detention risk to find the mirror again. He stared into it, both anxious and comforted by what he saw.

"I wonder what you're seeing," Dumbledore said from behind him, and Draco jumped. "Sorry," he chuckled. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

"Er - sir - sorry, sir, I'll go back to bed," he said, flushing, heading towards the door.

"Please stay," Dumbledore asked, and Draco found he couldn't ignore it. He was rooted to the spot near the door. "I only wished to tell you the mirror won't be here any longer. I'm moving it for everyone's betterment."

"Oh," Draco said disappointed. "I guess that's - it's just a stupid mirror anyway." But he found himself blinking back tears anyway. He willed himself to be silent and strong, and not to quiver. Because there in the mirror was an image of Draco himself, just as he was, except he was holding hands with someone. Not someone, he corrected himself, not just someone. Harry Potter was holding his hand, and looking at him in a way that made Draco feel a bit light headed.

"I think we both know it's a lot more than that, Draco."

"Do you think... the thing I see might happen?" Draco asked hopefully. "One day, I mean."

"Who can say?" Dumbledore answered. "It depends on what it is. But the mirror shows your hearts desire, not what is possible."

"Oh."

"Is there anything else you wish to talk about, my dear boy?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"No," he said automatically. "It's just - well. I guess I'm just awfully confused lately about... some things. And - you can't tell anyone if I tell you!" He felt so very stupid. The last person he wanted to speak with about his deepest secret was Albus Dumbledore, a man whom his father had spent considerable time railing against at home. But Dumbledore had a way of seeming like he knew more than he did, and he was halfway to telling a secret that felt urgent and impossible to swallow back now.

"I can't promise that," the old man said. "If it would hurt someone else I have to take action. But for the most part, yes."

"Well I just - it's - I feel not normal."

"Not normal how?"

"In a - in a way my father would disapprove of. I f-feel like I might l-l-like boys, instead of girls."

There was a long pause, followed by an "Ah," of understanding. "I would expect many would tell you that you're too young for such a revelation. But I think no one knows a man better than the man himself. So my advice to you would be to be as true to yourself as you can be, as things have a tendency to work themselves out that way. But be careful - there are still those in the world who would not find this acceptable, and your trust should not be blindly placed."

Draco nodded, brushing the tears he had fought so hard to keep from flowing away. He turned to the door, unable to speak.

"And Draco," he heard, and paused his hand on the knob. Dumbledore sounded sad now, pensive. "You can be confident that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you." Draco fled, back to his bed and back to his covers. Harry's bed was empty, and Draco was glad for it. He allowed himself a break for once from his composure, and cried into his pillow until he fell asleep.

It was only a few weeks later that Harry realized who Flamel was, and Hermione pulled his biography from Hogwarts: A History. Then going to Hagrid to confront him, and the dragon, and Blaise in the window - it was all a blur to the end of term. It seemed like no time at all that they were struggling through Devil's Snare and playing an insane chess game. Draco volunteered to stay with Ron when he was sacrificed, and Hermione saw Harry through to the end. When he visited him in the hospital wing when it was all over and got the full story, Draco realized he had been grossly underestimating Harry's bravery.

"Harry - you're so - I'm glad you're okay." Even in his pyjamas in the hospital wing Draco could see a glint of gold chain, showing he hadn't taken the ring off. It gave him courage. "I wanted to tell you..."

But then Dumbledore came in, and Draco looked away in embarrassment. He muttered to Harry that he'd see him later, and wandered off. He found Ron and Hermione in the common room and joined them. He borrowed Hogwarts: A History from Hermione for the summer, and promised to owl it back when he was done. She told him to keep it til next term, since she'd be travelling over the summer. Ron invited Draco to visit for a bit in the summer, although they both knew that due to his father it would be highly unlikely that he could. The invitation itself was a lift to Draco's spirits though. He would have never made such a suggestion before Christmas. They all promised to write, and traded addresses before the leaving feast.

When his house was awarded the house cup Draco felt pride. When he and his friends were awarded the points that tipped them over the edge, he felt his chest swell. And when his whole table leapt to their feet and cheered and celebrated, Harry hugged him and he felt his heart was fit to burst. And he was never more proud to be in Gryffindor.

That feeling carried him all the way to the train the next day, and on the ride home too. He shared a compartment with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and they talked about their incredible year. It was when they reached the train station that Harry and Draco became notably less animated and a little surly.

"What's gotten into you two?" Ron asked, kicking Harry playfully.

"I'm going home," the two said in unison, then laughed ironically.

"It won't be as bad as all that, will it?" Hermione asked lightly, but neither was ready to offer up much in the way of details.

Draco started to say goodbye quickly and leave, as his father wouldn't take too kindly to him hanging out with his chosen friend group. Although he noticed, surely, when the train stopped with their compartment in front of Lucius Malfoy himself.

He didn't say anything about it until they got home, and for a mad moment he thought his father wouldn't mention it at all.

"So you are consorting with Harry Potter now?" Lucius asked in a sneer after dinner when he called his son to his study, and Draco ducked his head, blushing.

"I suppose so," Draco said cautiously, hoping to minimize the damage. "I tried to get in good with everyone in my house. No one really talked to me for the first few months."

"And you thought being around mudbloods and blood traitors and Harry Potter was preferable?"

"To being ignored and ostracized by everyone? Yeah, I did," Draco challenged, and immediately regretted it when his fathers walking stick came down on him, striking his face. Before he knew it he was pushed against a wall and Lucius held his face in one hand.

"You are a Malfoy," Lucius spat. "You are better than the likes of them, and I will not see our good name spoiled because of you."

"Yes sir," Draco said through gritted teeth, knowing that was what was expected of him. He escaped to his room at the earliest possible convenience, and decided he'd be spending most of his time there that summer. He did something then that would have been unthinkable the previous September — he yearned for the safety of Gryffindor tower.